WILLIAM JAMES

My object in this paper is to discuss some of the things which Prof.

William James says about truth in the recent book, to which he has

given the above name.[1] In Lecture VI he professes to give an account

of a theory, which he calls "the pragmatist theory of truth;" and he

professes to give a briefer preliminary account of the same theory in

Lecture II. Moreover, in Lecture VII, he goes on to make some further

remarks about truth. In all these Lectures he seems to me to make

statements to which there are very obvious objections; and my main

object is to point out, as clearly and simply as I can, what seem to me

to be the principal objections to some of these statements.

We may, I think, distinguish three different things which he seems

particularly anxious to assert about truth.

(I) In the first place, he is plainly anxious to assert some connection

between truth and "verification" or "utility." Our true ideas, he seems

to say, are those that "work," in the sense that they are or can be

"verified," or are "useful."

(II) In the second place, he seems to object to the view that truth is

something "static" or "immutable." He is anxious to assert that truths

are in some sense "mutable."

(III) In the third place, he asserts that "to an unascertainable

extent our truths are man-made products" (p. 242).

To what he asserts under each of these three heads there are, I think,

serious objections; and I now propose to point out what seem to me to

be the principal ones, under each head separately.

(I)

Professor James is plainly anxious to assert _some_ connection between

truth and "verification" or "utility." And that there is _some_

connection between them everybody will admit. That _many_ of our true

ideas are verified; that _many_ of them can be verified; and that

_many_ of them are useful, is, I take it, quite indisputable. But

Professor James seems plainly to wish to assert something more than

this. And one more thing which he wishes to assert is, I think, pretty

plain. He suggests, at the beginning of Lecture VI, that he is going to

tell us in what sense it is that our true ideas "agree with reality."

Truth, he says, certainly _means_ their agreement with reality;

the only question is as to what we are to understand by the words

"agreement" and "reality" in this proposition. And he first briefly

considers the theory, that the sense in which our true ideas agree with

reality, is that they "copy" some reality. And he affirms that some

of our true ideas really do do this. But he rejects the theory, as a

theory of what truth means, on the ground that they do not _all_ do so.

Plainly, therefore, he implies that no theory of what truth _means_

will be correct, unless it tells us of some property which belongs to

_all_ our true ideas without exception. But his own theory is a theory

of what truth means. Apparently, therefore, he wishes to assert that

not only many but _all_ our true ideas are or can be verified; that

_all_ of them are useful. And it is, I think, pretty plain that this is

_one_ of the things which he wishes to assert.

Apparently, therefore, Professor James wishes to assert that _all_

our true ideas are or can be verified--that _all_ are useful. And

certainly this is not a truism like the proposition that _many_ of

them are so. Even if this were all that he meant, it would be worth

discussing. But even this, I think, is not all. The very first

proposition in which he expresses his theory is the following. "True

ideas," he says (p. 201) "are those that we can assimilate, validate,

corroborate and verify. False ideas are those that we cannot." And

what does this mean? Let us, for brevity's sake, substitute the word

"verify" alone for the four words which Professor James uses, as he

himself subsequently seems to do. He asserts, then, that true ideas

are _those which_ we can verify. And plainly he does not mean by this

merely that _some_ of the ideas which we can verify are true, while

plenty of others, which we can verify, are not true. The plain meaning

of his words is that _all_ the ideas which we can verify are true.

No one would use them who did not mean this. Apparently, therefore,

Professor James means to assert not merely that we can verify all our

true ideas; but also that all the ideas, which we can verify, are true.

And so, too, with utility or usefulness. He seems to mean not merely

that all our true ideas are useful; but that all those which are useful

are true. This would follow, for one thing, from the fact that he seems

to use the words "verification" or "verifiability" and "usefulness" as

if they came to the same thing. But, in this case too, he asserts it

in words that have but one plain meaning. "The true" he says (p. 222)

"is only the expedient in the way of our thinking." "The true" is _the_

expedient: that is, _all_ expedient thinking is true. Or again: "An

idea is 'true' so long as to believe it is profitable to our lives" (p.

75). That is to say, _every_ idea, which is profitable to our lives,

is, while it is so, true. These words certainly have a plain enough

meaning. Apparently, therefore, Professor James means to assert not

merely that all true ideas are useful, but also that all useful ideas

are true.

Professor James' words, then, do at least suggest that he wishes to

assert all four of the following propositions. He wishes to assert, it

would seem--

(1) That we can verify all those of our ideas, which are true.

(2) That all those among our ideas, which we can verify, are true.

(3) That all our true ideas are useful.

(4) That all those of our ideas, which are useful, are true.

These four propositions are what I propose first to consider. He

does mean to assert them, at least. Very likely he wishes to assert

something more even than these. He does, in fact, suggest that he means

to assert, in addition, that these properties of "verifiability" and

"utility" are the _only_ properties (beside that of being properly

_called_ "true") which belong to all our true ideas and to none but

true ideas. But this obviously cannot be true, unless all these four

propositions are true. And therefore we may as well consider them first.

First, then, can we verify all our true ideas?

I wish only to point out the plainest and most obvious reasons why I

think it is doubtful whether we can.

We are very often in doubt as to whether we did or did not do a certain

thing in the past. We may have the idea that we did, and also the idea

that we did not; and we may wish to find out which idea is the true

one. Very often, indeed, I may believe very strongly, that I did do a

certain thing; and somebody else, who has equally good reason to know,

may believe equally strongly that I did not. For instance, I may have

written a letter, and may believe that I used certain words in it.

But my correspondent may believe that I did not. Can we always verify

either of these ideas? Certainly sometimes we can. The letter may be

produced, and prove that I did use the words in question. And I shall

then have verified my idea. Or it may prove that I did not use them.

And then we shall have verified my correspondent's idea. But, suppose

the letter has been destroyed; suppose there is no copy of it, nor any

trustworthy record of what was said in it; suppose there is no other

witness as to what I said in it, beside myself and my correspondent?

Can we then always verify which of our ideas is the true one? I think

it is very doubtful whether we can _nearly_ always. Certainly we may

often try to discover any possible means of verification, and be quite

unable, for a time at least, to discover any. Such cases, in which we

are unable, for a time at least, to verify either of two contradictory

ideas, occur very commonly indeed. Let us take an even more trivial

instance than the last. Bad whist-players often do not notice at all

carefully which cards they have among the lower cards in a suit. At

the end of a hand they cannot be certain whether they had or had not

the seven of diamonds, or the five of spades. And, after the cards

have been shuffled, a dispute will sometimes arise as to whether a

particular player had the seven of diamonds or not. His partner may

think that he had, and he himself may think that he had not. Both may

be uncertain, and the memory of both, on such a point, may be well

known to be untrustworthy. And, moreover, neither of the other players

may be able to remember any better. Is it always possible to verify

which of these ideas is the true one? Either the player did or did not

have the seven of diamonds. This much is certain. One person thinks

that he did, and another thinks he did not; and both, so soon as the

question is raised, have before their minds both of these ideas--the

idea that he did, and the idea that he did not. This also is certain.

And it is certain that one or other of these two ideas is true. But can

they always verify either of them? Sometimes, no doubt, they can, even

after the cards have been shuffled. There may have been a fifth person

present, overlooking the play, whose memory is perfectly trustworthy,

and whose word may be taken as settling the point. Or the players may

themselves be able, by recalling other incidents of play, to arrive at

such a certainty as may be said to verify the one hypothesis or the

other. But very often neither of these two things will occur. And, in

such a case, is it always possible to verify the true idea? Perhaps,

theoretically, it may be still possible. Theoretically, I suppose, the

fact that one player, and not any of the other three, had the card in

his hand, may have made some difference to the card, which _might_

be discovered by some possible method of scientific investigation.

Perhaps some such difference may remain even after the same card has

been repeatedly used in many subsequent games. But suppose the same

question arises again, a week after the original game was played. Did

you, or did you not, last week have the seven of diamonds in that

particular hand? The question has not been settled in the meantime;

and now, perhaps, the original pack of cards has been destroyed. Is it

still possible to verify either idea? Theoretically, I suppose, it may

be still possible. But even this, I think, is very doubtful. And surely

it is plain that, humanly and practically speaking, it will often have

become quite impossible to verify either idea. In all probability it

never will be possible for any man to verify whether I had the card

or not on this particular occasion. No doubt we are here speaking of

an idea, which some man _could have_ verified at one time. But the

hypothesis I am considering is the hypothesis that we never have a true

idea, which we _can_ not verify; that is to say, which we cannot verify

_after_ the idea has occurred. And with regard to this hypothesis, it

seems to me quite plain that _very often indeed_ we have two ideas, one

or other of which is certainly true; and yet that, in all probability,

it is no longer possible and never will be possible for any man to

verify either.

It seems to me, then, that we very often have true ideas which we

cannot verify; true ideas, which, in all probability, no man ever will

be able to verify. And, so far, I have given only comparatively trivial

instances. But it is plain that, in the same sense, historians are very

frequently occupied with true ideas, which it is doubtful whether they

can verify. One historian thinks that a certain event took place, and

another that it did not; and both may admit that they cannot verify

their idea. Subsequent historians may, no doubt, sometimes be able to

verify one or the other. New evidence may be discovered or men may

learn to make a better use of evidence already in existence. But is

it certain that this will _always_ happen? Is it certain that _every_

question, about which historians have doubted, will some day be able to

be settled by verification of one or the other hypothesis? Surely the

probability is that in the case of an immense number of events, with

regard to which we should like to know whether they happened or not, it

never will be possible for any man to verify either the one hypothesis

or the other. Yet it may be certain that either the events in question

did happen or did not. Here, therefore, again, we have a large number

of ideas--cases where many men doubt whether a thing did happen or

did not, and have therefore the idea both of its having happened and

of its not having happened--with regard to which it is certain that

half of them are true, but where it seems highly doubtful whether

any single one of them will ever be able to be verified. No doubt it

is just possible that men will some day be able to verify every one

of them. But surely it is very doubtful whether they will. And the

theory against which I am protesting is the positive assertion that

we _can_ verify all our true ideas--that some one some day certainly

will be able to verify every one of them. This theory, I urge, has all

probability against it.

And so far I have been dealing only with ideas with regard to what

happened in the past. These seem to me to be the cases which offer

the most numerous and most certain exceptions to the rule that we can

verify our true ideas. With regard to particular past events, either

in their own lives or in those of other people, men very frequently

have ideas, which it seems highly improbable that any man will ever be

able to verify. And yet it is certain that a great many of these ideas

are true, because in a great many cases we have both the idea that the

event did happen and also the idea that it did not, when it is certain

that one or other of these ideas is true. And these ideas with regard

to past events would by themselves be sufficient for my purpose. If, as

seems certain, there are many true ideas with regard to the past, which

it is highly improbable that anyone will ever be able to verify, then,

obviously, there is nothing in a true idea which makes it certain that

we can verify it. But it is, I think, certainly not only in the case

of ideas, with regard to the past, that it is doubtful whether we can

verify all the true ideas we have. In the case of many generalisations

dealing not only with the past but with the future, it is, I think,

obviously doubtful whether we shall ever be able to verify all those

which are true; although here, perhaps, in most cases, the probability

that we shall not is not so great. But is it quite certain, that in all

cases where scientific men have considered hypotheses, one or other

of which must be true, either will ever be verified? It seems to be

obviously doubtful. Take, for instance, the question whether our actual

space is Euclidean or not. This is a case where the alternative has

been considered; and where it is certain that, whatever be meant by

"our actual space," it either is Euclidean or is not. It has been held,

too, that the hypothesis that it is not Euclidean might, conceivably,

be verified by observations. But it is doubtful whether it ever will

be. And though it would be rash to say that no man ever will be able

to verify either hypothesis; it is also rash to assert positively that

we shall--that we certainly can verify the true hypotheses. There are,

I believe, ever so many similar cases, where alternative hypotheses,

one or other of which must be true, have occurred to men of science,

and where yet it is very doubtful whether either ever will be verified.

Or take, again, such ideas as the idea that there is a God, or the

idea that we are immortal. Many men have had not only contradictory

ideas, but contradictory beliefs, about these matters. And here we

have cases where it is disputed whether these ideas have not actually

been verified. But it seems to me doubtful whether they have been. And

there is a view, which seems to me to deserve respect, that, in these

matters, we never shall be able to verify the true hypothesis. Is it

perfectly certain that this view is a false one? I do not say that it

is true. I think it is quite possible that we shall some day be able to

verify either the belief that we are immortal or the belief that we are

not. But it seems to me doubtful whether we shall. And for this reason

alone I should refuse to assent to the positive assertion that we

certainly can verify all our true ideas.

When, therefore, Professor James tells us that "True ideas are those

that we can assimilate, validate, corroborate and verify. False ideas

are those that we cannot," there seems to be a serious objection to

part of what these words imply. They imply that no idea of ours is

true, unless we can verify it. They imply, therefore, that whenever a

man wonders whether or not he had the seven of diamonds in the third

hand at whist last night, neither of these ideas is true unless he can

verify it. But it seems certain that in this, and an immense number of

similar cases, one or other of the two ideas is true. Either, he did

have the card in his hand or he did not. If anything is a fact, this

is one. Either, therefore, Professor James' words imply the denial of

this obvious fact, or else he implies that in _all_ such cases we _can_

verify one or other of the two ideas. But to this the objection is

that, in any obvious sense of the words, it seems very doubtful whether

we can. On the contrary it seems extremely probable that in a _very

large_ number of such cases no man ever will be able to verify either

of the two ideas. There is, therefore, a serious objection to what

Professor James' words imply. Whether he himself really means to assert

these things which his words imply I do not know. Perhaps he would

admit that, in this sense, we probably cannot verify nearly all our

true ideas. All that I have wished to make plain is that there is, at

least, an objection to what he says, whether to what he means or not.

There is ample reason why we should refuse assent to the statement that

none of our ideas are true, except those which we can verify.

But to another part of what he implies by the words quoted above, there

is, I think, no serious objection. There is reason to object to the

statement that we can verify all our true ideas; but to the statement

that all ideas, which we can "assimilate, validate, corroborate and

verify," are true, I see no serious objection. Here, I think, we might

say simply that all ideas which we can verify are true. To this, which

is the second of the four propositions, which I distinguished above

(p. 35) as what Professor James seems to wish to assert, there is, I

think, no serious objection, if we understand the word "verify" in

its proper and natural sense. We may, no doubt, sometimes say that we

have verified an idea or an hypothesis, when we have only obtained

evidence which proves it to be probable, and does not prove it to be

certain. And, if we use the word in this loose sense for incomplete

verification, it is obviously the case that we may verify an idea

which is not true. But it seems scarcely necessary to point this out.

And where we really can _completely_ verify an idea or an hypothesis,

there, undoubtedly, the idea which we can verify is always true. The

very meaning of the word "verify" is to find evidence which does really

prove an idea to be true; and where an idea can be really proved to be

true, it is of course, always true.

This is all I wish to say about Professor James' first two

propositions, namely:--

(1) That no ideas of ours are true, except those which we can verify.

(2) That all those ideas, which we can verify, are true.

The first seems to me extremely doubtful--in fact, almost certainly

untrue; the second on the other hand, certainly true, in its most

obvious meaning. And I shall say no more about them. The fact is, I

doubt whether either of them expresses anything which Professor James

is really anxious to assert. I have mentioned them, only because his

words do, in fact, imply them and because he gives those words a very

prominent place. But I have already had occasion to notice that he

seems to speak as if to say that we can verify an idea came to the same

thing as saying it is useful to us. And it is the connection of truth

with usefulness, not its connection with "verification," that he is, I

think, really anxious to assert. He talks about "verification" only,

I believe, because he thinks that what he says about it will support

his main view that truth is what "works," is "useful," is "expedient,"

"pays." It is this main view we have now to consider. We have to

consider the two propositions:--

(3) That all our true ideas are useful.

(4) That all ideas, which are useful, are true.

First, then: is it the case that all our true ideas are useful? Is it

the case that none of our ideas are true, except those which are useful?

I wish to introduce my discussion of this question by quoting a

passage in which Professor James seems to me to say something which is

indisputably true. Towards the end of Lecture VI, he attacks the view

that truths "have an unconditional claim to be recognised." And in the

course of his attack the following passage occurs:--

"Must I," he says, "constantly be repeating the truth 'twice two are

four' because of its eternal claim on recognition? or is it sometimes

irrelevant? Must my thoughts dwell night and day on my personal sins

and blemishes, because I truly have them?--or may I sink and ignore

them in order to be a decent social unit, and not a mass of morbid

melancholy and apology?"

"It is quite evident," he goes on, "that our obligation to acknowledge

truth, so far from being unconditional, is tremendously conditional.

Truth with a big T, and in the singular, claims abstractly to be

recognised, of course; but concrete truths in the plural need be

recognised only when their recognition is expedient." (pp. 231-232).

What Professor James says in this passage seems to me so indisputably

true as fully to justify the vigour of his language. It is as clear

as anything can be that it would not be useful for any man's mind to

be _always_ occupied with the true idea that he had certain faults

and blemishes; or to be _always_ occupied with the idea that twice

two are four. It is clear, that is, that, if there are times at which

a particular true idea is useful, there certainly are other times

at which it would _not_ be useful, but positively in the way. This

is plainly true of nearly all, if not quite all, our true ideas. It

is plainly true with regard to nearly all of them that, even if the

occasions on which their occurrence is useful are many, the occasions

on which their occurrence would _not_ be useful are many more. With

regard to most of them it is true that on most occasions they will, as

Professor James says elsewhere, "be practically irrelevant, and had

better remain latent."

It is, then, quite clear that almost any particular true idea _would_

not be useful at all times and that the times at which it would _not_

be useful, are many more than the times at which it would. And what

we have to consider is whether, in just this sense in which it is so

clear that most true ideas would _not_ be useful at most times, it is

nevertheless true that all our true ideas _are_ useful. Is this so? Are

all our true ideas useful?

Professor James, we see, has just told us that there are ever so many

occasions upon which a particular true idea, such as that 2 + 2= 4,

_would_ not be useful--when, on the contrary, it would be positively in

the way. And this seems to be indisputably clear. But is not something

else almost equally clear? Is it not almost equally clear that cases,

such as he says _would_ not be useful, do sometimes actually happen? Is

it not clear that we do actually sometimes have true ideas, at times

when they are not useful, but are positively in the way? It seems

to me to be perfectly clear that this does sometimes occur; and not

sometimes only, but very commonly. The cases in which true ideas occur

at times when they are useful, are, perhaps, far _more_ numerous; but,

if we look at men in general, the cases in which true ideas occur, at

times when they are not useful, do surely make up positively a very

large number. Is it not the case that men do sometimes dwell on their

faults and blemishes, when it is _not_ useful for them to do so? when

they would much better be thinking of something else? Is it not the

case that they are often unable to get their minds away from a true

idea, when it is harmful for them to dwell on it? Still more commonly,

does it not happen that they waste their time in acquiring pieces of

information which are no use to them, though perhaps very useful to

other people? All this seems to me to be undeniable--just as undeniable

as what Professor James himself has said; and, if this is so, then, in

one sense of the words, it is plainly not true that all, or nearly all,

our true ideas are useful. _In one sense of the words._ For if I have

the idea that 2+2=4 on one day, and then have it again the next, I may

certainly, in a sense, call the idea I have on one day _one_ idea, and

the idea I have on the next _another._ I have had two ideas that 2+2=4,

and not one only. Or if two different persons both think that I have

faults, there have been two ideas of this truth and not one only. And

in asking whether _all_ our true ideas are useful, we might mean to ask

whether _both_ of these ideas were useful and not merely whether one of

them was. In this sense, then, it is plainly not true that _all_ our

true ideas are useful. It is not true, that is, that every true idea is

useful, _whenever it occurs._

In one sense, then, it is plainly not true that all our true ideas

are useful. But there still remains a perfectly legitimate sense in

which it might be true. It might be meant, that is, not that every

_occurrence_ of a true idea is useful, but that every true idea is

useful on at least one of the occasions when it occurs. But is this,

in fact, the case? It seems to me almost as plain that it is not, as

that the other was not. We have seen that true ideas are not by any

means always useful on every occasion when they occur; though most

that do occur many times over and to many different people are, no

doubt, useful on some of these occasions. But there seems to be an

immense number of true ideas, which occur but once and to one person,

and never again either to him or to anyone else. I may, for instance,

idly count the number of dots on the back of a card, and arrive at a

true idea of their number; and yet, perhaps, I may never think of their

number again, nor anybody else ever know it. We are all, it seems to

me, constantly noticing trivial details, and getting true ideas about

them, of which we never think again, and which nobody else ever gets.

And is it quite certain that all these true ideas are useful? It seems

to me perfectly clear, on the contrary, that many of them are not. Just

as it is clear that many men sometimes waste their time in acquiring

information which is useful to others but not to them, surely it is

clear that they sometimes waste their time in acquiring information,

which is useful to nobody at all, because nobody else ever acquires

it. I do not say that it is never useful idly to count the number

of dots on the back of a card. Plainly it is sometimes useful to be

idle, and one idle employment may often be as good as another. But

surely it is true that men _sometimes_ do these things when their time

would have been better employed otherwise? Surely they sometimes get

into the habit of attending to trivial truths, which it is as great a

disadvantage that they should attend to as that they should constantly

be thinking of their own thoughts and blemishes? I cannot see my way

to deny that this is so; and therefore I cannot see my way to assert

positively that all our true ideas are useful, even so much as on _one

occasion._ It seems to me that there are many true ideas which occur

but once, and which are not useful when they do occur. And if this be

so, then it is plainly not true that _all_ our true ideas are useful in

any sense at all.

These seem to me to be the most obvious objections to the assertion

that all our true ideas are useful. It is clear, we saw to begin with,

that true ideas, which are sometimes useful, _would_ not be useful at

all times. And it seemed almost equally clear that they do sometimes

occur at times when they are not useful. Our true ideas, therefore

are not useful at every time when they actually occur. But in just

this sense in which it is so clear that true ideas which are sometimes

useful, nevertheless sometimes occur at times when they are not, it

seems pretty plain that true ideas, which occur but once, are, some of

them, not useful. If an idea, which is sometimes useful, does sometimes

occur to a man at a time when it is irrelevant and in the way, why

should not an idea, which occurs but once, occur at a time when it is

irrelevant and in the way? It seems hardly possible to doubt that this

does sometimes happen. But, if this be so, then it is not true that all

our true ideas are useful, even so much as on one occasion. It is not

true that none of our ideas are true, except those which are useful.

But now, what are we to say of the converse proposition--the

proposition that all those among our ideas, which are useful, are true?

That we never have a useful idea, which is not true?

I confess the matter seems to me equally clear here. The assertion

should mean that every idea, which is at any time useful, is true;

that no idea, which is not true, is ever useful. And it seems hardly

possible to doubt that this assertion is false. It Is, in the first

place, commonly held that it is sometimes right positively to deceive

another person. In war, for instance it is held that one army is

justified in trying to give the enemy a false idea as to where it

will be at a given time. Such a false idea is sometimes given, and it

seems to me quite clear that it is sometimes useful. In such a case,

no doubt, it may be said that the false idea is useful to the party

who have given it, but not useful to those who actually believe in it.

And the question whether it is useful on the whole will depend upon

the question which side it is desirable should win. But it seems to me

unquestionable that the false idea is sometimes useful on the whole.

Take, for instance, the case of a party of savages, who wish to make a

night attack and massacre a party of Europeans but are deceived as to

the position in which the Europeans are encamped. It is surely plain

that such a false idea is sometimes useful on the whole. But quite

apart from the question whether deception is ever justifiable, it is

not very difficult to think of cases where a false idea, not produced

by deception, is plainly useful--and useful, not merely on the whole,

but to the person who has it as well. A man often thinks that his watch

is right, when, in fact, it is slow, and his false idea may cause

him to miss his train. And in such cases, no doubt, his false idea

is _generally_ disadvantageous. But, in a particular case, the train

which he would have caught but for his false idea may be destroyed

in a railway accident, or something may suddenly occur at home, which

renders it much more useful that he should be there, than it would

have been for him to catch his train. Do such cases never occur? And

is not the false idea sometimes useful in some of them? It seems to me

perfectly clear that it is _sometimes_ useful for a man to think his

watch is right when it is wrong. And such instances would be sufficient

to show that it is not the case that every idea of ours, which is ever

useful, is a true idea. But let us take cases, not, like these, of an

idea, which occurs but a few times or to one man, but of ideas which

have occurred to many men at many times. It seems to me very difficult

to be sure that the belief in an eternal hell has not been often useful

to many men, and yet it may be doubted whether this idea is true. And

so, too, with the belief in a happy life after death, or the belief in

the existence of a God; it is, I think, very difficult to be sure that

these beliefs have not been, and are not still, often useful, and yet

it may be doubted whether they are true. These beliefs, of course, are

matters of controversy. Some men believe that they are both useful and

true; and others, again, that they are neither. And I do not think we

are justified in giving them as certain instances of beliefs, which

are not true, but, nevertheless, have often been useful. But there is

a view that these beliefs, though not true, have, nevertheless, been

often useful; and this view seems to me to deserve respect, especially

since, as we have seen, some beliefs, which are not true, certainly

are sometimes useful. Are we justified in asserting positively that it

is false? Is it perfectly certain that beliefs, which have often been

useful to many men, may not, nevertheless, be untrue? Is it perfectly

certain that beliefs, which are not true, have not often been useful

to many men? The certainty may at least be doubted, and in any case it

seems certain that some beliefs, which are not true, are, nevertheless,

sometimes useful.

For these reasons, it seems to me almost certain that _both_ the

assertions which I have been considering are false. It is almost

certainly false that all our true ideas are useful, and almost

certainly false that all our useful ideas are true. But I have only

urged what seem to me to be the most obvious objections to these two

statements; I have not tried to sustain these objections by elaborate

arguments, and I have omitted elaborate argument, partly because of a

reason which I now wish to state. The fact is, I am not at all sure

that Professor James would not himself admit that both these statements

are false. I think it is quite possible he would admit that they are,

and would say that he never meant either to assert or to imply the

contrary. He complains that some of the critics of Pragmatism are

unwilling to read any but the silliest of possible meanings into the

statements of Pragmatism; and, perhaps, he would say that this is the

case here. I certainly hope that he would. I certainly hope he would

say that these statements, to which I have objected, are silly. For

it does seem to me intensely silly to say that we can verify all our

true ideas; intensely silly to say that every one of our true ideas

is at some time useful; intensely silly to say that every idea which

is ever useful is true. I hope Professor James would admit all these

things to be silly, for if he and other Pragmatists would admit even

as much as this, I think a good deal would be gained. But it by no

means follows that because a philosopher would admit a view to be

silly, when it is definitely put before him, he has not himself been

constantly holding and implying that very view. He may quite sincerely

protest that he never has either held or implied it, and yet he may

all the time have been not only implying it but holding it--vaguely,

perhaps, but really. A man may assure us, quite sincerely that he is

not angry; he may really think that he is not, and yet we may be able

to judge quite certainly from what he says that he really is angry.

He may assure us quite sincerely that he never meant anything to our

discredit by what he said--that he was not thinking of anything in the

least discreditable to us, and yet it may be plain from his words that

he was actually condemning us very severely. And so with a philosopher.

He may protest, quite angrily, when a view is put before him in other

words than his own, that he never either meant or implied any such

thing, and yet it may be possible to judge, from what he says, that

this very view, wrapped up in other words, was not only held by him but

was precisely what made his thoughts seem to him to be interesting and

important. Certainly he may quite often imply a given thing which, at

another time, he denies. Unless it were possible for a philosopher to

do this, there would be very little inconsistency in philosophy, and

surely everyone will admit that _other_ philosophers are very often

inconsistent. And so in this case, even if Professor James would say

that he never meant to imply the things to which I have been objecting,

yet in the case of two of these things, I cannot help thinking that

he does actually imply them--nay more, that he is frequently actually

vaguely thinking of them, and that his theory of truth owes its

interest, in very great part, to the fact that he is implying them.

In the case of the two views that all our true ideas are useful, and

that all our useful ideas are true, I think this is so, and I do not

mean merely that his _words_ imply them. A man's _words_ may often

imply a thing, when he himself is in no way, however vaguely, thinking

either of that thing or of anything which implies it; he may simply

have expressed himself unfortunately. But in the case of the two views

that all our true ideas are useful, and all our useful ideas true, I do

not think this is so with Professor James. I think that his thoughts

seem interesting to him and others, largely because he is thinking,

not merely of words, but of things which imply these two views, in the

very form in which I have objected to them. And I wish now to give some

reasons for thinking this.

Professor James certainly wishes to assert that there is _some_

connection between truth and utility. And the connection which I have

suggested that he has vaguely before his mind is this: that every true

idea is, at some time or other, useful, and conversely that every idea,

which is ever useful, is true. And I have urged that-there are obvious

objections to both these views. But now, supposing Professor James does

not mean to assert either of these two things, what else can he mean to

assert? What else can he mean, that would account for the interest and

importance he seems to attach to his assertion of connection between

truth and utility? Let us consider the alternatives.

And, first of all, he might mean that _most_ of our true ideas are

useful, and _most_ of our useful ideas true. He might mean that most

of our true ideas are useful at some time or other; and even that most

of them are useful, whenever they actually occur. And he might mean,

moreover, that if we consider the whole range of ideas, which are

useful to us, we shall find that by far the greater number of them are

true ones; that true ideas are far more often useful to us, than those

which are not true. And all this, I think, may be readily admitted to

be true. If this were all that he meant, I do not think that anyone

would be very anxious to dispute it. But is it conceivable that this

is _all_ that he means? Is it conceivable that he should have been so

anxious to insist upon this admitted commonplace? Is it conceivable

that he should have been offering us this, and nothing more, as a

theory of what truth means, and a theory worth making a fuss about, and

being proud of? It seems to me quite inconceivable that this should

have been _all_ that he meant. He must have had something more than

this in his mind. But, if so, what more?

In the passage which I quoted at the beginning, as showing that he does

mean to assert that _all_ useful ideas are true, he immediately goes on

to assert a qualification, which must now be noticed. "The true," he

says, "is only the expedient in the way of our thinking" (p. 222). But

he immediately adds: "Expedient in the long run, and on the whole, of

course; for what meets expediently all the experience in sight won't

necessarily meet all further experiences equally satisfactorily."

Here, therefore, we have something else that he might mean. What is

expedient _in the long run_, he means to say, is true. And what exactly

does this mean? It seems to mean that an idea, which is not true, may

be expedient _for some time_. That is to say, it may occur _once,_

and be expedient then; and again, and be expedient then; and so on,

over a considerable period. But (Professor James seems to prophesy)

if it is not true, there will come a time, when it will cease to be

expedient. If it occurs again and again over a long _enough_ period,

there will at last, if it is not true, come a time when it will (for

once at least) fail to be useful, and will (perhaps he means) _never_

be useful again. This is, 1 think, what Professor James means in this

passage. He means, I think, that though an idea, which is not true,

may for some time be repeatedly expedient, there will at last come a

time when its occurrence will, perhaps, _never_ be expedient again,

certainly will, for a time, not be _generally_ expedient. And this

a view which, it seems to me, may possibly be true. It is certainly

possible that a time may come, in the far future, when ideas, which

are not true, will hardly ever, if ever, be expedient. And this is all

that Professor James seems here positively to mean. He seems to mean

that, if you take time _enough_, false ideas will some day cease to be

expedient. And it is very difficult to be sure that this is not true;

since it is very difficult to prophesy as to what may happen in the far

future. I am sure I hope that this prophesy will come true. But in the

meantime (Professor James seems to admit) ideas, which are not true,

may, for an indefinitely long time, again and again be expedient. And

is it conceivable that a theory, which admits this, is _all_ that he

has meant to assert? Is it conceivable that what interests him, in his

theory of truth, is merely the belief that, some day or other, false

ideas will cease to be expedient? "In the long run, _of course_," he

says, as if this were what he had meant all along. But I think it is

quite plain that this is _not_ all that he has meant. This may be one

thing which he is anxious to assert, but it certainly does not explain

the whole of his interest in his theory of truth.

And, in fact, there is quite a different theory which he seems plainly

to have in his mind in other places. When Professor James says, "in

the long run, _of course_," he implies that ideas which are expedient

only for a _short_ run, are very often not true. But in what he says

elsewhere he asserts the very opposite of this. He says elsewhere that

a belief is true "_so long as_ to believe it is profitable to our

lives" (p. 75). That is to say, a belief will be true, _so long as_

it is useful, even if it is _not_ useful in the long run! This is

certainly quite a different theory; and, strictly speaking, it implies

that an idea, which is useful even _on one occasion,_ will be true. But

perhaps this is only a verbal implication. I think very likely that

here Professor James was only thinking of ideas, which can be said _to

have a run,_ though only a comparatively short one--of ideas, that is,

which are expedient, not merely on one occasion, but _for some time._

That is to say, the theory which he now suggests, is that ideas, which

occur again and again, perhaps to one man only, perhaps to several

different people, over some space of time are, if they are expedient on

most occasions within that space of time, true. This is a view which he

is, I think, really anxious to assert; and if it were true, it would, I

think, be important. And it is difficult to find instances which show,

with certainty, that it is false. I believe that it is false; but it

is difficult to prove it, because, in the case of some ideas it is so

difficult to be certain that they ever were useful, and in the case of

others so difficult to be certain that they are not true. A belief such

as I spoke of before--the belief in eternal hell--is an instance. I

think this belief has been, for a long time, useful, and that yet it is

false. But it is, perhaps, arguable that it never has been useful; and

many people on the other hand, would still assert that it is true. It

cannot, therefore, perhaps, fairly be used as an instance of a belief,

which is certainly not true, and yet has for some time been useful. But

whether this view that all beliefs, which are expedient for some time,

are true, be true or false; can it be all that Professor James means to

assert? Can it constitute the whole of what interests him in his theory

of truth?

I do not think it can. I think it is plain that he has in his mind

something more than _any_ of these alternatives, or than all

of them taken together. And I think so partly for the following

reason. He speaks from the outset as if he intended to tell us what

_distinguishes_ true ideas from those which are not true; to tell us,

that is to say, not merely of some property which belongs to all our

true ideas; nor yet merely of some property, which belongs to none

but true ideas; but of some property which satisfies _both_ these

requirements at once--which both belongs to all our true ideas, and

_also_ belongs to none but true ones. Truth, he says to begin with,

means the agreement of our ideas with reality; and he adds "as falsity

their disagreement." And he explains that he is going to tell us what

property it is that is meant by these words "agreement with reality."

So again in the next passage which I quoted: "True ideas," he says "are

those that we can assimilate, validate, corroborate and verify." But,

he also adds, "False ideas are those that we cannot." And no one, I

think, could possibly speak in this way, who had not in his head the

intention of telling us what property it is which _distinguishes_ true

ideas from those which are not true, and which, therefore, not only

belongs to all ideas which are true, but also to none that are not.

And that he has this idea in his head and thinks that the property of

being "useful" or "paying" is such a property, is again clearly shown

by a later passage. "Our account of truth," he says (p. 218) "is an

account of truths in the plural, of processes of leading, realised _in

rebus_, and having only this quality in common, that they _pay." Only_

this quality in common! If this be so, the quality must obviously be

one, which is _not_ shared by any ideas which are _not_ true; for,

if true ideas have any quality in common at all, they must have at

least one such quality, which is _not_ shared by those which are _not_

true. Plainly, therefore, Professor James is intending to tell us of

a property which belongs both to _all_ true ideas and _only_ to true

ideas. And this property, he says, is that of "paying." But now let us

suppose that he means by "paying," not "paying _once_ at least," but,

according to the alternative he suggests, "paying in the long run" or

"paying for some time." Can he possibly have supposed that these were

properties which belonged _both_ to all true ideas _and also_ to none

but true ones? They may, perhaps, be properties which belong to _none

but_ true ones. I doubt, as I have said, whether the latter does; but

still it is difficult to prove the opposite. But even if we granted

that they belong to _none but_ true ones, surely it is only too obvious

that they do _not_ fulfil the other requirement--that they do _not_

belong to nearly all true ones. Can anyone suppose that _all_ our true

ideas pay "in the long run" or repeatedly for some time? Surely it is

plain that an enormous number do not for the simple reason that an

enormous number of them _have no run at all,_ either long or short,

but occur but once, and never recur. I believe truly that a certain

book is on a particular shelf about 10.15 p.m. on December 21st, 1907;

and this true belief serves me well and helps me to find it But the

belief that that book is there at that particular time occurs to no one

else, and never again to me. Surely there are thousands of useful true

beliefs which, like this, are useful but once, and never occur again;

and it would, therefore, be preposterous to say that every true idea is

useful "in the long run" or repeatedly for some time. If, therefore,

we supposed Professor James to mean that "paying in the long run" or

"paying repeatedly over a considerable period" were properties which

belonged to all true ideas and to none but true ones, we should be

supposing him to mean something still more monstrous than if we suppose

him to mean that "paying at least once" was such a property.

To sum up then:

I think there is no doubt that Professor James' interest in "the

pragmatist theory of truth" is largely due to the fact that he thinks

it tells us what distinguishes true ideas from those which are not

true. And he thinks the distinction is that true ideas "pay," and false

ones don't. The most natural interpretation of this view is: That every

true idea pays at least once; and that every idea, which pays at least

once, is true. These were the propositions I considered first, and I

gave reasons for thinking that _both_ are false. But Professor James

suggested elsewhere that what he means by "paying" is "paying in the

long run." And here it seems possibly true that all ideas which "pay

in the long run" are true; but it is certainly false that all our true

ideas "pay in the long run," if by this be meant anything more than

"pay at least once." Again, he suggested that what he meant by paying

was "paying for some time." And here, again, even if it is true (and it

seems very doubtful) that all ideas which pay for some time are true,

it is certainly false that all our true ideas pay for some time, if by

this be meant anything more than that they pay "at least once."

This, I think, is the simplest and most obvious objection to Professor

James' "instrumental" view of truth--the view that truth is what

"works," "pays," is "useful." He seems certainly to have in his mind

the idea that this theory tells us what distinguishes true ideas from

false ones, and to be interested in it mainly for this reason. He has

vaguely in his mind that he has told us of some property which belongs

to all true ideas and to none but true ones; and that this property is

that of "paying." And the objection is, that, whatever we understand

by "paying," whether "paying at least once," or "paying in the long

run," or "paying for some time," it seems certain that none of these

properties will satisfy _both_ requirements. As regards the first, that

of "paying at least once," it seems almost certain that it satisfies

_neither:_ it is neither true that all our true ideas "pay at least

once," nor yet that every idea which pays at least once, is true.

On the contrary, many true ideas never pay at all; and many ideas,

which are not true, do pay on at least one occasion. And as regards

the others, "paying in the long run" and "paying for some time,"

even if these do belong to none but true ideas (and even this seems

very doubtful), they certainly neither of them satisfy the _other_

requirement--neither of them belong to _all_ our true ideas. For, in

order that either of them may belong to an idea, that idea must pay at

least once; and, as we have seen, many true ideas do not pay even once,

and cannot, therefore, pay either in the long run or for some time.

And, moreover, many true ideas, which do pay on one occasion, seem to

pay on one occasion and one only.

And, if Professor James does not mean to assert any of these things,

what is there left for him to mean? There is left in the first place,

the theory that _most_ of our true ideas do pay; and that _most_ of the

ideas which pay are true. This seems to me to be true, and, indeed, to

be all that is certainly true in what he says. But is it conceivable

that this is all he has meant? Obviously, these assertions tell us

of no property at all which belongs to all true ideas, and to none

but true ones; and, moreover, it seems impossible that he should have

been so anxious to assert this generally admitted commonplace. What a

very different complexion his whole discussion would have worn, had he

merely asserted this--this quite clearly, and nothing but this, while

admitting openly that many true ideas do not pay, and that many, which

do pay, are not true!

And, besides this commonplace, there is only left for him to mean two

one-sided and doubtful assertions to the effect that certain properties

belong to none but true ideas. There is the assertion that all ideas

which pay in the long run are true, and the assertion that all ideas

which pay for some considerable time are true. And as to the first, it

_may_ be true; but it may also be doubted, and Professor James gives us

no reason at all for thinking that it is true. Assuming that religious

ideas have been useful in the past, is it quite certain that they may

not permanently continue to be useful, even though they are false?

That, in short, even though they are not true, they nevertheless will

be useful, not only for a time, but in the long run? And as for the

assertion that all ideas, which pay for a considerable time, are true,

this is obviously more doubtful still. Whether certain religious ideas

will or will not be useful in the long run, it seems difficult to doubt

that many of them have been useful for a considerable time. And why

should we be told dogmatically that all of these are true? This, it

seems to me, is by far the most interesting assertion, which is left

for Professor James to make, when we have rejected the theory that the

property of being useful belongs to _all_ true ideas, as well as to

none but true ones. But he has given no reason for asserting it. He

seems, in fact, to base it merely upon the general untenable theory,

that utility belongs to _all_ true ideas, and to none but true ones;

that this is what truth means.

These, then, seem to me the plainest and most obvious objections to

what Professor James says about the connection between truth and

utility. And there are only two further points, in what he says under

this head, that I wish to notice.

In the first place, we have hitherto been considering only whether it

is true, as a matter of empirical fact, that all our true ideas are

useful, and those which are not true, never. Professor James seems,

at least, to mean that, _as a matter of fact,_ this is so; and I have

only urged hitherto that _as a matter of fact_, it is not so. But as we

have seen, he also asserts something more than this--he also asserts

that this property of utility is the _only_ one which belongs to all

our true ideas. And this further assertion cannot possibly be true, if,

as I have urged, there are many true ideas which do not possess this

property; or if, as I have urged, many ideas, which do possess it, are

nevertheless not true. The objections already considered are, then,

sufficient to overthrow this further assertion also. If there are any

true ideas, which are not useful, or if any, which are useful, are not

true, it cannot be the case that utility is the _only_ property which

true ideas have in common. There must be some property, other than

utility, which is common to all true ideas; and a correct theory as to

what property it is that does belong to all true ideas, and to none but

true ones, is still to seek. The empirical objections, hitherto given,

are then sufficient objections to this further assertion also; but they

are not the only objections to it. There is another and still more

serious objection to the assertion that utility is the _only_ property

which all true ideas have in common. For this assertion does not

_merely_ imply that, as a matter of fact, all our true ideas and none

but true ideas are useful. It does, indeed, imply this; and therefore

the fact that these empirical assertions are not true is sufficient

to refute it. But it also implies something more. If utility were the

_only_ property which all true ideas had in common, it would follow

not merely that all true ideas are useful, but also that any idea,

which was useful, _would_ be true _no matter what other properties

it might have or might fail to have._ There can, I think, be no doubt

that Professor James does frequently speak as if this were the case;

and there is an independent and still more serious objection to this

implication. Even if it were true (as it is not) that all our true

ideas and none but true ideas are, as a matter of fact, useful, we

should still have a strong reason to object to the statement that any

idea, which was useful, _would_ be true. For it implies that if such an

idea as mine, that Professor James exists, and has certain thoughts,

_were_ useful, this idea would be true, _even if_ no such person as

Professor James ever did exist. It implies that, if the idea that I had

the seven of diamonds in my hand at cards last night, _were_ useful,

this idea would be true, even if, in fact, I did not have that card

in my hand. And we can, I think, see quite plainly that this is not

the case. With regard to some kinds of ideas, at all events--ideas

with regard to the existence of other people, or with regard to past

experiences of our own--it seems quite plain that they would not be

true, unless they "agreed with reality" in some other sense than that

which Professor James declares to be the only one in which true ideas

must agree with it. Even if my idea that Professor James exists were to

"agree with reality," in the sense that, owing to it, I handled _other_

realities better than I should have done without it, it would, I think,

plainly not be true, unless Professor James really did exist--unless

_he_ were a reality. And this, I think, is one of the two most serious

objections to what he seems to hold about the connection of truth with

utility. He seems to hold that any idea, which was useful, _would_ be

true, _no matter what other properties it might fail to have._ And with

regard to some ideas, at all events, it seems plain that they cannot be

true, _unless_ they have the property that what they believe to exist,

really does or did exist. Beliefs in the existence of other people

might be useful to me, even if I alone existed; but, nevertheless, in

such a case, they would not be true.

And there is only one other point, in what Professor James says in

connection with the "instrumental" view of truth, upon which I wish

to remark. We have seen that he seems sometimes to hold that beliefs

are true, _so long as_ they are "profitable to our lives." And this

implies, as we have seen, the doubtful proposition than any belief

which is useful for some length of time, is true. But this is not

all that it implies. It also implies that beliefs are true _only_ so

long as they are profitable. Nor does Professor James appear to mean

by this that they _occur_, only so long as they are profitable. He

seems to hold, on the contrary, that beliefs, which are profitable

for some time, do sometimes finally occur at a time when they are not

profitable. He implies, therefore, that a belief, which occurs at

several different times, may be true at some of the times at which it

occurs, and yet untrue at others. I think there is no doubt that this

view is what he is sometimes thinking of. And this, we see, constitutes

a quite new view as to the connection between truth and utility--a view

quite different from any that we have hitherto considered. This view

asserts not that every true idea is useful at some time, or in the long

run, or for a considerable period; but that the truth of an idea may

come and go, as its utility comes and goes. It admits that one and the

same idea sometimes occurs at times when it is useful, and sometimes

at times when it is not; but it maintains that this same idea is true,

at those times when it is useful, and not true, at those when it is

not. And the fact that Professor James seems to suggest this view,

constitutes, I think, a second most serious objection to what he says

about the connection of truth and utility. It seems so obvious that

utility is a property which comes and goes--which belongs to a given

idea at one time, and does not belong to it at another, that anyone who

says that the true is the useful naturally seems not to be overlooking

this obvious fact, but to be suggesting that truth is a property which

comes and goes in the same way. It is, in this way I think, that the

"instrumental" view of truth is connected with the view that truth is

"mutable." Professor James does, I think, imply that truth is mutable

in just this sense--namely, that one and the same idea may be true at

some of the times at which it occurs, and not true at others, and this

is the view which I have next to consider.

(II)

Professor James seems to hold, generally, that "truth" is mutable. And

by this he seems sometimes to mean that an idea which, when it occurs

at one time, is true, _may,_ when it occurs at another time, not be

true. He seems to hold that one and the same idea _may_ be true at

one time and false at another. That it _may_ be, for I do not suppose

he means that all ideas do actually undergo this change from true to

false. Many true ideas seem to occur but once, and, if so, they, at

least, will not actually be true at one time and false at another,

though, even with regard to these, perhaps Professor James means to

maintain that they _might_ be false at another time, if they were to

occur at it. But I am not sure that he even means to maintain this

with regard to _all_ our true ideas. Perhaps he does not mean to say,

with regard to _all_ of them, even that they _can_ change from true to

false. He speaks, generally, indeed, as if truth were mutable; but,

in one passage, he seems to insist that there is a certain class of

true ideas, none of which are mutable in this respect. "_Relations

among purely mental ideas,"_ he says (p. 209), "form another sphere

where true and false beliefs obtain, and here the beliefs are absolute

or unconditional. When they are true they bear the name either of

definitions or of principles. It is either a principle or a definition

that 1 and 1 make 2, that 2 and 1 make 3, and so on; that white differs

less from grey than it does from black; that when the cause begins to

act the effect also commences. Such propositions hold of all possible

'ones,' of all conceivable 'whites,' 'greys,' and 'causes.' The objects

here are mental objects. Their relations are perceptually obvious

at a glance, and no sense-verification is necessary. Moreover, once

true, always true, of those same mental objects. Truth here has an

'eternal' character. If you can find a concrete thing anywhere that is

'one' or 'white' or 'grey' or an 'effect,' then your principles will

everlastingly apply to it." Professor James does seem here to hold

that there are true ideas, which once true, are always true. Perhaps,

then, he does not hold that _all_ true ideas are mutable. Perhaps he

does not even hold that all true ideas, _except_ ideas of this kind,

are so. But he does seem to hold at least that _many_ of our true ideas

are mutable. And even this proposition seems to me to be disputable.

It seems to me that there is a sense in which it is the case with

_every_ true idea that, if once true, it is always true. That is to

say, that every idea, which is true once, _would_ be true at any other

time at which it were to occur; and that every idea which does occur

more than once, if true once, _is_ true at every time at which it does

occur. There seems to me, I say, to be _a sense_ in which this is so.

And this seems to me to be the sense in which it is most commonly and

most naturally maintained that all truths are "immutable." Professor

James seems to mean to deny it, even in this sense. He seems to me

constantly to speak as if there were _no_ sense in which _all_ truths

are immutable. And I only wish to point out what seems to me to be the

plainest and most obvious objection to such language.

And, first of all, there is one doctrine, which he seems to connect

with this of his that "truths are mutable," with regard to which I

fully agree with him. He seems very anxious to insist that reality is

mutable: that it does change, and that it is not irrational to hope

that in the future it will be different from and much better than it

is now. And this seems to me to be quite undeniable. It seems to me

quite certain that I do have ideas at one time which I did not have

at another; that change, therefore, does really occur. It seems to me

quite certain that in the future many things will be different from

what they are now; and I see no reason to think that they may not be

much better. There is much misery in the world now; and I think it is

quite possible that some day there will really be much less. This view

that _reality_ is mutable, that _facts_ do change, that some things

have properties at one time which they do not have at other times,

seems to me certainly true. And so far, therefore, as Professor James

merely means to assert this obvious fact, I have no objection to his

view. Some philosophers, I think, have really implied the denial of

this fact. All those who deny the reality of time do seem to me to

imply that nothing really changes or can change--that, in fact, reality

is wholly immutable. And so far as Professor James is merely protesting

against this view, I should, therefore, agree with him.

But I think it is quite plain that he does not mean _merely_ this,

when he says that truth is mutable. No one would choose this way of

expressing himself if he merely meant to say that _some_ things are

mutable. Truth, Professor James has told us, is a property of certain

of our ideas. And those of our ideas, which are true or false, are

certainly only a part of the Universe. Other things in the Universe

might, therefore, change, even if our ideas never changed in respect

of this property. And our ideas themselves do undoubtedly change in

some respects. A given idea exists in my mind at one moment and does

not exist in it at another. At one moment it is in my mind and not in

somebody else's, and at another in somebody else's and not in mine.

I sometimes think of the truth that twice two are four when I am in

one mood, and sometimes when I am in another. I sometimes think of it

in connection with one set of ideas and sometimes in connection with

another set. Ideas, then, are constantly changing in some respects.

They come and go; and at one time they stand in a given relation to

other things or ideas, to which at another time they do not stand in

that relation. In this sense, any given idea may certainly have a

property at one time which it has not got at another time. All this

seems obvious; and all this cannot be admitted, without admitting that

reality is mutable--that _some_ things change. But obviously it does

not seem to follow from this that there is _no_ respect in which ideas

are immutable. It does not seem to follow that because ideas, and other

things, change some of their properties, they necessarily change that

one which we are considering--namely, "truth." It does not follow that

a given idea, which has the property of truth at one time, ever exists

at any other time without having that property. And yet that this

_does_ happen seems to be part of what is meant by saying that truth

is mutable. Plainly, therefore, to say this is to say something quite

different from saying that _some_ things are mutable. Even, therefore,

if we admit that _some_ things are mutable, it is still open to

consider whether truth is so. And this is what I want now to consider.

Is it the case that an idea which exists at one time, and is true then,

ever exists at any other time, without being true? Is it the case that

any idea ever changes from true to false? That it has the property of

being true on one of the occasions when it exists, and that it has

_not_ this property, but that of being false instead, on some other

occasion when it exists?

In order to answer this question clearly, it is, I think, necessary to

make still another distinction. It does certainly seem to be true, _in

a sense_, that a given idea may be true on one occasion and false on

another. We constantly speak as if there were cases in which a given

thing was true on one occasion and false on another; and I think it

cannot be denied that, when we so speak, we are often expressing in a

perfectly proper and legitimate manner something which is undeniably

true. It is true now, I might say, that I am in this room; but

to-morrow this will not be true. It is true now that men are often

very miserable; but perhaps in some future state of society this will

not be true. These are perfectly natural forms of expression, and what

they express is something which certainly may be true. And yet what

they do apparently assert is that something or other, which is true

at one time, will not, or _perhaps_ will not, be true at another. We

constantly use such expressions, which imply that what is true at one

time is not true at another; and it is certainly legitimate to use

them. And hence, I think, we must admit that, _in a sense_, it is true

that a thing may be true at one time which is not true at another; in

that sense, namely, in which we use these expressions. And it is, I

think, also plain that these things, which may be true at one time and

false at another, may, _in a sense,_ be ideas. We might even say: The

idea that I am in this room, is true now; but to-morrow it will not be

true. We might say this without any strain on language. In any ordinary

book--indeed, in any philosophical book, where the subject we are at

present discussing was not being expressly discussed--such expressions

do, I think, constantly occur. And we should pass them, without any

objection. We should at once understand what they meant, and treat them

as perfectly natural expressions of things undeniably true. We must,

then, I think, admit that, _in a sense_, an idea may be true at one

time, and false at another. The question is: In what sense? What is the

truth for which these perfectly legitimate expressions stand?

It seems to me that in all these cases, so far as we are not merely

talking of _facts_, but of true _ideas_, that the "idea" which we truly

say to be true at one time and false at another, is merely the idea

of a _sentence_--that is, of certain _words._ And we do undoubtedly

call _words_ "true." The words "I am at a meeting of the Aristotelian

Society" are true, if I use them now; but if I use the same words

to-morrow, they would not be true. The words "George III is king of

England" were true in 1800, but they are not true now. That is to say,

a given set of words may undoubtedly be true at one time, and false

at another; and since we may have ideas of words as well as of other

things, we may, in this sense, say the same of certain of our "ideas."

We may say that some of our "ideas" (namely those of words) are true at

one time and not true at another.

But is it conceivable that Professor James _merely_ meant to assert

that the same _words_ are sometimes true at one time and false at

another? Can this be _all_ he means by saying that truth is mutable?

I do not think it can possibly be so. No one, I think, in definitely

discussing the mutability of truth, could say that true ideas were

mutable, and yet mean (although he did not say so) that this

proposition applied _solely_ to ideas of words. Professor James must, I

think, have been sometimes thinking that _other_ ideas, and not merely

ideas of words, do sometimes change from true to false. And this is the

proposition which I am concerned to dispute. It seems to me that if we

mean by an idea, not merely the idea of certain words, but the kind of

idea which words express, it is very doubtful whether such an idea ever

changes from true to false--whether any such idea is ever true at one

time and false at another.

And plainly, in the first place, the mere fact that the same set of

words, as in the instances I have given, really are true at one time

and false at another, does not afford any presumption that anything

which they stand for is true at one time and false at another. For

the same words may obviously be used in different senses at different

times; and hence though the same words, which formerly expressed a

truth, may cease to express one, that may be because they now express

a _different_ idea, and not because the idea which they formerly

expressed has ceased to be true. And that, in instances such as I have

given, the words _do_ change their meaning according to the time at

which they are uttered or thought of, is I think, evident. If I use now

the words "I am in this room," these words certainly express (among

other things) the idea that my being in this room is contemporary

with my present use of the words; and if I were to use the same words

to-morrow, they would express the idea that my being in this room

to-morrow, was contemporary with the use of them _then._ And since my

use of them then would not be the same fact as my use of them now,

they would certainly then express a different idea from that which

they express now. And in general, whenever we use the present tense

in its primary sense, it seems to me plain that we do mean something

different by it each time we use it. We always mean (among other

things) to express the idea that a given event is contemporary with

our actual use of it; and since our actual use of it on one occasion

is always a different fact from our actual use of it on another, we

express by it a different idea each time we use it. And similarly with

the past and future tenses. If anybody had said in 1807 "Napoleon is

dead," he would certainly have meant by these words something different

from what I mean by them when I use them now. He would have meant that

Napoleon's death occurred at a time previous to _his_ use of those

words; and this would not have been true. But in this fact there is

nothing to show that if he _had_ meant by them what I mean now, his

idea would not have been as true then as mine is now. And so, if I say

"It will rain to-morrow," these words have a different meaning to-day

from what they would have if I used them to-morrow. What we mean by

"to-morrow" is obviously a different day, when we use the word on one

day, from what we mean by it when we use it on another. But in this

there is nothing to show that if the idea, which I _now_ mean by "It

will rain to-morrow," _were_ to occur again to-morrow, it would not be

true then, if it is true now. All this is surely very obvious. But,

if we take account of it, and if we concentrate our attention not on

the words but on what is meant by them, is it so certain that what we

mean by them on any one occasion ever changes from true to false? If

there were to occur to me to-morrow the very same idea which I now

express by the words "I am in this room," is it certain that this idea

would not be as true then as it is now? It is perhaps true that the

_whale_ of what I mean by such a phrase as this never does recur. But

part of it does, and that a part which is true. Part of what I mean

is Certainly identical with part of what I should mean to-morrow by

saying "I _was_ in that room last night." And this part would be as

true then, as it is now. And is there _any_ part, which, if it were to

recur at any time, would _not_ then be true, though it Is true now? In

the case of all ideas or parts of ideas, which ever do actually recur,

can we find a single instance of one, which is plainly true at one of

the times when it occurs, and yet not true at another? I cannot think

of any such instance. And on the other hand this very proposition that

any idea (other than mere words) which is true once, would be true at

any time, seems to me to be one of those truths of which Professor

James has spoken as having an "eternal," "absolute," "unconditional"

character--as being "perceptually obvious at a glance" and needing

"no sense-verification." Just as we know that, if a particular colour

differs more from black than from grey at one time, the same colour

would differ more from black than from grey at any time, so, it seems

to me, we can see that, if a particular idea is true at one time, the

same idea would be true at any time.

It seems to me, then, that if we mean by an idea, not mere words, but

the kind of idea which words express, any idea, which is true at one

time when it occurs, _would_ be true at any time when it were to occur;

and that this is so, even though it is an idea, which refers to facts

which are mutable. My being in this room is a fact which is now, but

which certainly has not been at every time and will not be at every

time. And the words "I _am_ in this room," though they express a truth

now, would not have expressed one if I had used them yesterday, and

will not if I use them to-morrow. But if we consider the idea which

these words _now_ express--namely, the idea of the connection of my

being in this room with this particular time--it seems to me evident

that anybody who had thought of that connection at any time in the

past, would have been thinking truly, and that anybody who were to

think of it at any time in the future would be thinking truly. This

seems to me to be the sense in which truths are immutable--in which

no idea can change from true to false. And I think Professor James

means to deny of truths generally, if not of all truths, that they are

immutable even in this sense. If he does not mean this there seems

nothing left for him to mean, when he says that truths are mutable,

except (1) that some _facts_ are mutable, and (2) that the same _words_

may be true at one time and false at another. And it seems to me

impossible that he could speak as he does, if he meant _nothing more_

than these two things. I believe, therefore, that he is really thinking

that ideas which have been once true (_ideas,_ and not merely words)

do sometimes afterwards become false: that the very same idea is at

one time true and at another false. But he certainly gives no instance

which shows that this does ever occur. And how far does he mean his

principle to carry him? Does he hold that this idea that Julius Caesar

was murdered in the Senate-House, though true now, may, at some future

time cease to be true, if it should be more profitable to the lives of

future generations to believe that he died in his bed? Things like this

are what his words seem to imply; and, even if he does hold that truths

like this are _not_ mutable, he never tries to tell us to what kinds of

truths he would limit mutability, nor how they differ from such as this.

(III)

Finally, there remains the view that "to an unascertainable extent our

truths are man-made products." And the only point I want to make about

this view may be put very briefly.

It is noticeable that all the instances which Professor James gives

of the ways in which, according to him, "our truths" are "made" are

instances of ways in which our _beliefs_ come into existence. In

many of these ways, it would seem, false beliefs sometimes come into

existence as well as true ones; and I take it Professor James does

not always wish to deny this. False beliefs, I think he would say,

are just as much "man-made products" as true ones: it is sufficient

for his purpose if true beliefs do come into existence in the ways he

mentions. And the only point which seems to be illustrated by all these

instances, is that in all of them the existence of a true belief does

depend in some way or other upon the previous existence of something

in some man's mind. They are all of them cases in which we may truly

say: This man would not have had just that belief, had not some man

previously had such and such experiences, or interests, or purposes.

In some cases they are instances of ways in which the existence of a

particular belief in a man depends upon _his own_ previous experiences

or interests or volitions. But this does not seem to be the case

in all. Professor James seems also anxious to illustrate the point

that one man's beliefs often depend upon the previous experiences or

interests or volitions of _other_ men. And, as I say, the only point

which seems to be definitely illustrated in all cases is that the

existence of a true belief does depend, _in some way or other,_ upon

something which has previously existed in some man's mind. Almost

any kind of dependence, it would seem, is sufficient to illustrate

Professor James' point.

And as regards this general thesis that almost all our beliefs, true as

well as false, depend, in some way or other, upon what has previously

been in some human mind, it will, I think, be readily admitted. It

is a commonplace, which, so far as I know, hardly anyone would deny.

If this is all that is to be meant by saying that our true beliefs

are "man-made," it must, I think, be admitted that almost all, If not

quite all, really are man-made. And this is all that Professor James'

instances seem to me, in fact, to show.

But is this all that Professor James means, when he says that _our

truths_ are man-made? Is it conceivable that he only means to insist

upon this undeniable, and generally admitted, commonplace? It seems to

me quite plain that this is not all that he means. I think he certainly

means to suggest that, from the fact that we "make" our true beliefs,

something _else_ follows. And I think it is not hard to see one thing

more which he does mean. I think he certainly means to suggest that we

not only make our true beliefs, but also that we _make them true._ At

least as much as this is certainly naturally suggested by his words.

No one would persistently say that we make _our truths_, unless he

meant, at least, not merely that we make our true beliefs, but also

that we make them true--unless he meant not merely that the existence

of our true beliefs, but also that their _truth_, depended upon human

conditions. This, it seems to me, is one consequence which Professor

James means us to draw from the commonplace that the _existence_ of our

true beliefs depends upon human conditions. But does this consequence,

in fact, follow from that commonplace? From the fact that we make our

true beliefs, does it follow that we _make them true?_

_In one sense,_ undoubtedly, even this does follow. If we say (as we

may say) that no belief can be true, unless it exists, then it follows

that, in a sense, the truth of a belief must always depend upon any

conditions upon which its existence depends. If, therefore, the

occurrence of a belief depends upon human conditions, so, too, must its

truth. If the belief had never existed, it would never have been true;

and therefore its truth must, in a sense, depend upon human conditions

in exactly the same degree in which its existence depends upon them.

This is obvious. But is this all that is meant? Is this all that would

be suggested to us by telling us that we make our beliefs true?

It is easy to see that it is not. I may have the belief that it will

rain to-morrow. And I may have "made" myself have this belief. It may

be the case that I should not have had it, but for peculiarities in my

past experiences, in my interests and my volitions. It may be the case

that I should not have had it, but for a deliberate attempt to consider

the question whether it will rain or not. This may easily happen. And

certainly this particular belief of mine would not have been true,

unless it existed. Its truth, therefore, depends, in a sense, upon any

conditions upon which its existence depends. And this belief may be

true. It will be true, if It does rain to-morrow. But, in spite of all

these reasons, would anyone think of saying that, in case it is true, I

had _made_ it true? Would anyone say that I had had any hand _at all_

in making it true? Plainly no one would. We should say that I had a

hand in making it true, if and only If I had a hand in _making the rain

fall._ In every case in which we believe in the existence of anything,

past or future, we should say that we had helped to make the belief

true, if and only if we had helped to cause the existence of the fact

which, in that belief, we believed did exist or would exist. Surely

this is plain. I may believe that the sun will rise to-morrow. And I

may have had a hand in "making" this belief; certainly it often depends

for its existence upon what has been previously in my mind. And if the

sun does rise, my belief will have been true. I have, therefore, had

a hand in making a true belief. But would anyone say that, therefore,

I had a hand in _making this belief true_? Certainly no one would. No

one would say that anything had contributed to make this belief true,

except those conditions (whatever they may be) which contributed to

making the sun actually rise.

It is plain, then, that by "making a belief true," we mean something

quite different from what Professor James means by "making" that

belief. Conditions which have a hand in making a given true belief,

may (it appears) have no hand at all in making it true; and conditions

which have a hand in making it true may have no hand at all in making

_it._ Certainly this is how we use the words. We should never say that

we had made a belief true, merely because we had made the belief. But

now, which of these two things does Professor James mean? Does he mean

_merely_ the accepted commonplace that we make our true beliefs, in the

sense that almost all of them depend for their existence on what has

been previously in some human mind? Or does he mean also that we _make

them true_--that their truth also depends on what has been previously

in some human mind?

I cannot help thinking that he has the latter, and not only the former

in his mind. But, then, what does this involve? If his instances of

"truth-making" are to be anything to the purpose, it should mean that,

whenever I have a hand in causing one of my own beliefs, I always

have to that extent a hand in making it true. That, therefore, I have

a hand in actually making the sun rise, the wind blow, and the rain

fall, whenever I cause my beliefs in these things. Nay, more, it

should mean that, whenever I "make" a true belief about the past, I

must have had a hand in making this true. And if so, then certainly I

must have had a hand in causing the French Revolution, in causing my

father's birth, in making Professor James write this book. Certainly

he implies that some man or other must have helped in causing almost

every event, in which any man ever truly believed. That it was we who

made the planets revolve round the sun, who made the Alps rise, and

the floor of the Pacific sink--all these things, and others like them,

seem to be involved. And it is these consequences which seem to me to

justify a doubt whether, in fact "our truths are to an unascertainable

extent man-made." That some of our truths are man-made--indeed, a great

many--I fully admit. We certainly do make some of our beliefs true.

The Secretary probably had a belief that I should write this paper,

and I have made his belief true by writing it. Men certainly have the

power to alter the world to a certain extent; and, so far as they do

this, they certainly "make true" any beliefs, which are beliefs in the

occurrence of these alterations. But I can see no reason for supposing

that they "make true" _nearly_ all those of their beliefs which are

true. And certainly the only reason which Professor James seems to

give for believing this--namely, that the _existence_ of almost all

their beliefs depends on them--seems to be no reason for it at all. For

unquestionably a man does not "make true" nearly every belief whose

_existence_ depends on him; and if so, the question which of their

beliefs and how many, men do "make true" must be settled by quite other

considerations.

In conclusion, I wish to sum up what seems to me to be the most

important points about this "pragmatist theory of truth," as Professor

James represents it. It seems to me that, in what he says about it, he

has in his mind some things which are true and others which are false;

and I wish to tabulate separately the principal ones which I take to be

true, and the principal ones which I take to be false. The true ones

seem to me to be these:--

That _most_ of our true beliefs are useful to us; and that _most_ of

the beliefs that are useful to us are true.

That the world really does change in some respects; that facts exist at

one time, which didn't and won't exist at others; and that hence the

world may be better at some future time than it is now or has been in

the past.

That the very same words may be true at one time and false at

another--that they may express a truth at one time and a falsehood at

another.

That the existence of most, if not all, of our beliefs, true as well as

false, does depend upon previous events in our mental history; that we

should never have had the particular beliefs we do have, had not our

previous mental history been such as it was.

That the truth, and not merely the existence, of _some_ of our beliefs,

does depend upon us. That we really do make some alterations in the

world, and that hence we do help to "make true" all those of our

beliefs which are beliefs in the existence of these alterations.

To all of these propositions I have no objection to offer. And they

seem to me to be generally admitted commonplaces. A certain class of

philosophers do, indeed, imply the denial of every one of them--namely,

those philosophers who deny the reality of time. And I think that

part of Professor James' object is to protest against the views of

these philosophers. All of these propositions do constitute a protest

against such views; and so far they might be all that Professor James

meant to assert. But I do not think that anyone, fairly reading through

what he says, could get the impression that these things, and nothing

more, were what he had in his mind. What gives colour and interest to

what he says, seems to be obviously something quite different. And, if

we try to find out what exactly the chief things are which give his

discussion its colour and interest, it seems to me we may distinguish

that what he has in his mind, wrapped up in more or less ambiguous

language, are the following propositions, to all of which I have tried

to urge what seem to me the most obvious objections:--

That utility is a property which distinguishes true beliefs from those

which are not true; that, therefore, _all_ true beliefs are useful, and

_all_ beliefs, which are useful, are true--by "utility" being sometimes

meant "utility on at least one occasion," sometimes "utility in the

long run," sometimes "utility for some length of time."

That all beliefs which are useful for some length of time are true.

That utility is the _only_ property which all true beliefs have in

common: that, therefore, _if_ it were useful to me to believe in

Professor James' existence, this belief _would_ be true, even if he

didn't exist; and that, _if_ it were not useful to me to believe this,

the belief _would_ be false, even if he did.

That the beliefs, which we express by words, and not merely the words

themselves, may be true at one time and _not_ true at another; and that

this is a general rule, though perhaps there may be some exceptions.

That whenever the _existence_ of a belief depends to some extent on

us, then also the _truth_ of that belief depends to some extent on us;

in the sense in which this implies, that, when the existence of my

belief that a shower will fall depends upon me, then, if this belief

is true, I must have had a hand in making the shower fall: that,

therefore, men must have had a hand in making to exist almost every

fact which they ever believe to exist.

[1] _Pragmatism: A New Name for some Old Ways of Thinking: Popular

Lectures on Philosophy._ By William James. Longmans, Green, and Co.,

1907