SUPPLEMENTARY ESSAYS. (continued 2)

I dwell at length upon this subject, because although Mr. Spencer himself does not appear to attach much weight to his argument, Mr. Fiske, as we have seen, elevates it into a basis for "Cosmic Theism." Yet so far is this argument from "ruling out," as Mr. Fiske asserts, the essential doctrine of Materialism—i.e., the doctrine that what we know as Mind is an effect of certain collocations and distributions of what we know as Matter and Force—that the argument might be employed with almost the same degree of effect, or absence of effect, to disprove any instance of recognised causation. Thus, for example, the doctrine of Materialism is no more "ruled out" by the reflection that what we cognise as cerebral matter is only cognised relatively, than would the doctrine of chemical equivalents be "ruled out" by the parallel reflection that what we cognise as chemical elements are only cognised relatively. I say advisedly, "with almost the same degree of effect," because, to be strictly accurate, we ought not altogether to ignore the indefinitely slender presumption which Mr. Spencer's subjective test of inconceivability establishes on the side of Spiritualism, as against the objective evidence of causation on the side of Materialism. As this is an important subject, I will be a little more explicit. We are agreed that Force and Matter are entities external to consciousness, of which we can possess only symbolical knowledge. Therefore, as we have said, Force and Matter may be anything within the whole range of the possible. But we know that Mind is a possible entity, while we have no certain knowledge of any other possible entity. Hence we are justified in saying, It is possible that Force and Matter may be identical with the only entity which we know as certainly possible; but forasmuch as we do not know the sum of possible entities, we have no means of calculating the chances there are that what we know as Force and Matter are identical in nature with Mind. Still, that there is a chance we cannot dispute; all we can assert is, that we are unable to determine its value, and that it would be a mistake to suppose we can do so, even in the lowest degree, by Mr. Spencer's test of inconceivability. Nevertheless, the fact that there is such a chance renders it in some indeterminate degree more probable that what we know as Force and Matter are identical with what we know as Mind, than that what we know as oxygen and hydrogen are identical with what we know as water. So that to this extent the essential doctrine of Materialism is "ruled out" in a further degree by the philosophy of the Unknowable than is the chemical doctrine of equivalents. But, of course, this indefinite possibility of what we know as Force and Matter being identical with what we know as Mind does not neutralise, in any determinable degree, the considerations whereby Materialism in its present shape infers that what we know as Force and Matter are probably distinct from what we know as Mind.

But I see no reason why Materialism should be restricted to this "its present shape." Even if we admit to the fullest extent the validity of Mr. Spencer's argument, and conclude with Professor Clifford as a matter of probability that "the universe consists entirely of Mind-stuff," I do not see that the admission would affect Materialism in any essential respect. For here again the admission would amount to little else, so far as Materialism is directly concerned, than a change of terminology: instead of calling objective existence "Matter," we call it "Mind-stuff." I say "to little else," because no doubt in one particular there is here some change introduced in the speculative standing of the subject. So long as Matter and Mind, x and y, are held to be antithetically opposed in substance, so long must Materialism suppose that a connection of causality subsists between the two, such that the former substance is produced in some unaccountable way by the latter. But when Matter and Mind, x and y, are supposed to be identical in substance, the need for any additional supposition as to a causal connection is excluded. But unless we hold, what seems to me an uncalled-for opinion, that the essential feature of Materialism consists in a postulation of a causal connection between x and y, it would appear that the only effect of supposing x and y to be really but one substance z, must be that of strengthening the essential doctrine of Materialism—the doctrine, namely, that conscious intellectual existence is necessarily associated with that form of existence which we know phenomenally as Matter and Motion. If it is true that a "a moving molecule of inorganic matter does not possess mind or consciousness, but it possesses a small piece of Mind-stuff," then assuredly the central position of Materialism is shown to be impregnable. For while it remains as true as ever that mind and consciousness can only emerge when what we know phenomenally as "Matter takes the complex form of a living brain," we have abolished the necessity for assuming even a causal connection between the substance of what we know phenomenally as Matter and the substance of what we know phenomenally as Mind: we have found that, in the last resort, the phenomenal connection between what we know as Matter and what we know as Mind is actually even more intimate than a connection of causality; we have found that it is a substantial identity.

To sum up this discussion. We have considered the bearing of modern speculation on the doctrine of Materialism in three successive stages of argument. First, we had to consider the bearing on Materialism of the simple doctrine of Relativity. Here we saw that Materialism was only affected to the extent of being compelled to allow that what we know as Matter and Motion are not known as they are in themselves. But we also saw that, as the inscrutable realities are uniformly translated into consciousness as Matter and Motion, it still remains as true as ever that what we know as Matter and Motion may be the causes of what we know as Mind. Even, therefore, if the supposition of causality is taken to be an essential feature of Materialism, Materialism would be in no wise affected by substituting for the words Matter and Motion the symbols x and y.

The second of the three stages consisted in showing that Mr. Spencer's argument as to the possible identity of Force and Feeling is not in itself sufficient to overthrow the doctrine that what we know as Matter and Motion may be the cause of what we know as Mind. For the mere fact of its being more conceivable that units of Force should resemble units of Feeling than conversely, is no warrant for concluding that in reality any corresponding probability obtains. The test of conceivability, although the most ultimate test that is available, is here rendered vague and valueless by the à priori consideration that whatever the cause of Mind may be (if it has a cause), we must find it more easy to conceive of this cause as resembling Mind than to conceive of it as resembling any other entity of which we are only conscious indirectly.

Lastly, in the third place, we saw that even if Mr. Spencer's argument were fully subscribed to, and Mind in its substantial essence were conceded to be causeless, the central position of Materialism would still remain unaffected. For Mr. Spencer does not suppose that his "units of Force" are themselves endowed with consciousness, any more than Professor Clifford supposes his "moving molecules of inorganic matter" to be thus endowed. So that the only change which these possibilities, even if conceded to be actualities, produce in the speculative standing of Materialism, is to show that the raw material of consciousness, instead of requiring to be caused by other substances—Matter and Force, x and y,—occurs ready made as those substances. But the essential feature of Materialism remains untouched—namely, that what we know as Mind is dependent (whether by way of causality or not is immaterial) on highly complex forms of what we know as Matter, in association with highly peculiar distributions of what we know as Force.

IV.

THE FINAL MYSTERY OF THINGS.

Some physicists are inclined to dispute the fundamental proposition in which the whole of Mr. Spencer's system of philosophy may be said to rest—the proposition, namely, that the fact of the "persistence of force" constitutes the ultimate basis of science. For my own part, I cannot but believe that any disagreement on this matter only arises from some want of mutual understanding; and, therefore, in order to anticipate any criticisms to which the present work may be open on this score, I append this explanatory note.

I readily grant that the term "persistence of force" is not a happy one, seeing that the word "force," as used by physicists, does not at the present time convey the full meaning which Mr. Spencer desires it to convey. But I think that any impartial physicist will be prepared to admit that, in the present state of his science, we are entitled to conclude that energy of position is merely the result of energy of motion; or, in other words, that potential energy is merely an expression of the fact that the universe, as a whole, is replete with actual energy, whose essential characteristic is that it is indestructible. And this may be concluded without committing ourselves to any particular theory as to the physical explanation of gravity; all we need assert is, that in some way or other gravity is the result of ubiquitous energy. And this, it seems to me, we must assert, or else conclude that gravity can never admit of a physical explanation. For all that we mean by a physical explanation is the proved establishment of an equation between two quantities of energy; so that if energy of position does not admit of being interpreted in terms of energy of motion, we must conclude that it does not admit of being interpreted at all—at least not in any physical sense.

Throughout the foregoing essays, therefore, I have assumed that all forms of energy are but relatively varying expressions of the same fact—the fact, namely, which Mr. Spencer means to express when he says that force is persistent. And it seems to me almost needless to show that this fact is really the basis of all science. For unless this fact is assumed as a postulate, not only would scientific inquiry become impossible, but all experience would become chaotic. The physicist could not prosecute his researches unless he presupposed that the forces which he measures are of a permanent nature, any more than could the chemist prosecute his researches unless he presupposed that the materials which he estimates by energy-units are likewise of a permanent nature. And similarly with all the other sciences, as well as with every judgment in our daily experience. If, therefore, any one should be hypercritical enough to dispute the position that the doctrine of the conservation of energy constitutes the "ultimate datum" of science, I think it will be enough to observe that if this is not the "ultimate datum" of science, science can have no "ultimate datum" at all. For any datum more ultimate than permanent existence is manifestly impossible, while any such datum as non-permanent existence would clearly render science impossible. Even, therefore, if such hypercriticism had a valid basis of apparently adverse fact whereon to stand, I should feel myself justified in neglecting it on à priori grounds; but the only basis on which such hypercriticism can rest is, not the knowledge of any adverse facts, but the ignorance of certain facts which we must either conclude to be facts or else conclude that science can have no ultimate datum whereon to rest. In the foregoing essays, therefore, I have not scrupled to maintain that the ultimate datum of science is destructive of teleology as a scientific argument for Theism; because, unless we deny the possibility of any such ultimate datum, and so land ourselves in hopeless scepticism, we must conclude that there can be no datum more ultimate than this—Permanent Existence; and this is just the datum which we have seen to be destructive of teleology as a scientific argument for Theism.

It may be well to point out that from this ultimate datum of science—or rather, let us say, of experience—there follows a deductive explanation of the law of causation. For this law, when stripped of all the metaphysical corruptions with which it has been so cumbersomely clothed, simply means that a given collocation of antecedents unconditionally produces a certain consequent. But this fact, otherwise stated, amounts to nothing more than a re-statement of the ultimate datum of experience—the fact that energy is indestructible. For if this latter fact be granted, it is obvious that the so-called law of causation follows as a deductive necessity—or rather, as I have said, that this law becomes but another way of expressing the same fact. This is obvious if we reflect that the only means we have of ascertaining that energy is not destructible, is by observing that similar antecedents do invariably determine similar consequents. It is as a vast induction from all those particular cases of sequence-changes which collectively we call causation that we conclude energy to be indestructible. And, obversely, having concluded energy to be indestructible, we can plainly see that in any particular cases of its manifestation in sequence-phenomena, the unconditional resemblance between effects due to similar causes which is formulated by the law of causation is merely the direct expression of the fact which we had previously concluded. It seems to me, therefore, that the old-standing question concerning the nature of causation ought now properly to be considered as obsolete. Doubtless there will long remain a sort of hereditary tendency in metaphysical minds to look upon cause-connection as "a mysterious tie" between antecedent and consequent; but henceforth there is no need for scientific minds to regard this "tie" as "mysterious" in any other sense than the existence of energy is "mysterious." To state the law of causation is merely to state the fact that energy is indestructible.

And from this there also arises at once the explanation and the justification of our belief in the uniformity of nature. If energy is, in its relation to us, ubiquitous and persistent, it clearly follows that in all its manifestations which collectively we call nature, similar preceding manifestations must always determine similar succeeding manifestations; for otherwise the energy concerned would require on one or on both of the occasions, either to have become augmented by creation, or dissipated by annihilation. Thus our belief in the uniformity of nature, as in the validity of the law of causation, is merely an expression of our belief in the ubiquitous and indestructible character of energy.

Such being the case, we may fairly conclude that all these old-standing "mysteries" are now merged in the one mystery of existence. And deeper than this it is manifestly impossible that they can be merged; for it is manifestly impossible that Existence in the abstract can ever admit of what we call explanation. Hence we can clearly see that, in a scientific sense, there must always remain a final mystery of things. But although we can thus see that, from the very meaning of what we call explanation, it follows that at the base of all our explanations there must lie a great Inexplicable, I think that the mystery of Existence in the abstract may be rendered less appalling if we reflect that, as opposed to Existence, there is only one logical alternative—Non-existence. Supposing, then, our physical explanations to have reached their highest limits by resolving all modes of Existence into one mode—force, matter, life, and mind, being shown but different manifestations of the same Infinite Existence—the final mystery of things would then become resolved into the simple question, Why is there Existence?—Why is there not Nothing?

Thus, if it be conceded that the universe as a whole is infinite both in space and time, the concession amounts to an abolition of the final mystery of things. For all that we mean by a mystery is something that requires an explanation, and the whole of the final mystery of things is therefore embodied in the question, "Why is there Existence?—Why is there not Nothing?" But if the universe of Existence be conceded infinite, this question is sufficiently met by the answer, "Because Existence is, and Nothing is not." If it is retorted, But this is no real answer; I reply, It is as real as the question. For to ask, Why is there Existence? is, upon the supposition which has been conceded, equivalent to asking, Why is the possible possible? And if such questions cannot be answered, it is scarcely right to say that on this account they embody a mystery; because the questions are really not rational questions, and therefore the fact of their not admitting of any rational answer cannot be held to show that the questions embody any rational mystery. That there is a rational mystery, in the sense of there being something which can never be explained, I do not dispute; all I assert is, that this mystery is inexplicable, only because there is nothing to explain; the mystery being ultimate, to ask for an explanation of that which, being ultimate, requires no explanation, is irrational. Or, to state the case in another way, if it is asked, Why is there not Nothing? it is a sufficient answer, on supposition of the universe being infinite, to say, Because Nothing is nothing; it is merely a word which presents no meaning, and which, so far as anything can be conceived to the contrary, never can present any meaning.

The above discussion has proceeded on the supposition of Existence being infinite; but practically the same result would follow on the counter-supposition of Existence being finite. For although in this case, as we have seen, Non-entity would still be included within the range of possibility, it would still be no more conceivable as such than is Entity; and hence the question, Why is there not Nothing? would still be irrational, seeing that, even if the possibility which the question supposes were realised, it would in no wise tend to explain the mystery of Something. And even if it could, the final mystery would not be thus excluded; it would merely be transferred from the mystery of Existence to the mystery of Non-existence. Thus under every conceivable supposition we arrive at the same termination—viz., that in the last resort there must be a final mystery, which, as forming the basis of all possible explanations, cannot itself receive any explanation, and which therefore is really not, in any proper sense of the term, a mystery at all. It is merely a fact which itself requires no explanation, because it is a fact than which none can be more ultimate. So that even if we suppose this ultimate fact to be an Intelligent Being, it is clearly impossible that he should be able to explain his own existence, since the possibility of any such explanation would imply that his existence could not be ultimate. In the sense, therefore, of not admitting of any explanation, his existence would require to be a mystery to himself, rendering it impossible for him to state anything further with regard to it than this—"I am that I am."

I do not doubt that this way of looking at the subject will be deemed unsatisfactory at first sight, because it seems to be, as it were, a merely logical way of cheating our intelligence out of an intuitively felt justification for its own curiosity in this matter. But the fault really lies in this intuitive feeling of justification not being itself justifiable. For this particular question, it will be observed, differs from all other possible questions with which the mind has to deal. All other questions being questions concerning manifestations of existence presupposed as existing, it is perfectly legitimate to seek for an explanation of one series of manifestations in another—i.e., to refer a less known group to a group better known. But the case is manifestly quite otherwise when, having merged one group of manifestations into another group, and this into another for an indefinite number of stages, we suddenly make a leap to the last possible stage and ask, "Into what group are we to merge the basis of all our previous groups, and of all groups which can possibly be formed in the future? How are we to classify that which contains all possible classes? Where are we to look for an explanation of Existence?" When thus clearly stated, the question, is, as I have said, manifestly irrational; but the point with which I am now concerned is this—When in plain reason the question is seen to be irrational, why in intuitive sentiment should it not be felt to be so? The answer, I think, is, that the interrogative faculty being usually occupied with questions which admit of rational answers, we acquire a sort of intellectual habit of presupposing every wherefore to have a therefore, and thus, when eventually we arrive at the last of all possible wherefores, which itself supplies the basis of all possible therefores, we fail at first to recognise the exceptional character of our position. We fail at first to perceive that, from the very nature of this particular case, our wherefore is deprived of the rational meaning which it had in all the previous cases, where the possibility of a corresponding therefore was presupposed. And failing fully to perceive this truth, our organised habit of expecting an answer to our question asserts itself, and we experience the same sense of intellectual unrest in the presence of this wholly meaningless and absurd question, as we experience in the presence of questions significant and rational.

THE END.

Notes

Professor Clifford, in a lecture on "Body and Mind" which he delivered at St. George's Hall, and afterwards published in the Fortnightly Review, argues against the existence of God on the ground that, as Mind is always associated with Matter within experience, there arises a presumption against Mind existing anywhere without being thus associated, so that unless we can trace in the disposition of the heavenly bodies some resemblance to the conformation of cerebral structure, we are to conclude that there is a considerable balance of probability in favour of Atheism. Now, as this argument—if we rid it of the grotesque allusion to the heavenly bodies—is one that is frequently met with, it seems desirable in this place briefly to analyse it. First of all, then, the validity of the argument depends upon the probability there is that the constant associated of Mind with Matter within experience is due to a causal connection; for if the association in question is merely an association and nothing more, the origin of known mind is as far from being explained as it would be were Mind never known as associated with Matter. But, in the next place, supposing the constant association in question to be due to a causal connection, it by no means follows that because Mind is due to Matter within experience, therefore Mind cannot exist in any other mode beyond experience.

Doubtless, from analogy, there is a presumption against the hypothesis that the same entity should exist in more than one mode at the same time; but clearly in this case we are quite unable to estimate the value of this presumption. Consequently, even assuming a causal connection between Matter and Human Mind, if there is any, the slightest, indications supplied by any other facts of experience pointing to the existence of a Divine Mind, such indications should be allowed as much argumentative weight as they would have had in the absence of the presumption we are considering. Hence Professor Clifford's conclusion cannot be regarded as valid until all the other arguments in favour of Theism have been separately refuted. Doubtless Professor Clifford will be the first to recognise the cogency of this criticism—if indeed it has not already occurred to him; for as I know that he is much too clear a thinker not to perceive the validity of these considerations, I am willing to believe that the substance of them was omitted from his essay merely for the sake of brevity; but, for the sake of less thoughtful persons, I have deemed it desirable to state thus clearly that the problem of Theism cannot be solved on grounds of Materialism alone. [This note was written before I had the advantage of Professor Clifford's acquaintance, but now I leave it, as I leave all other parts of this essay—viz., as it was originally written.—1878.]

In using the term "persistence of force," I am aware that I am using a term which is not unopen to criticism. But as Mr. Spencer's writings have brought this term into such general use among speculative thinkers, it seemed to me undesirable to modify it. Questions of mere terminology are without any importance in a discussion of this kind, provided that the terms are universally understood to mean what they are intended to mean; and I think that the signification which Mr. Spencer attaches to his term, "persistence of force," is sufficiently precise. Therefore, adopting his usage, whenever throughout the following pages I speak of force as persisting, what I intend to be understood is, that there is a something—call it force, or energy, or x—which, so far as experience or imagination can extend, is, in its relation to us, ubiquitous and illimitable; or, in other words, that it universally presents the property of permanence. (See, for a more detailed explanation, supplementary essay, "On the Final Mystery of Things.")