Chapter IV · PHILOSOPHICAL CONSEQUENCES.

Such, in outline, will be the argument of the first half of this chapter, and such will be the justification for regarding as à priori those axioms of Geometry, which were deduced above from the conception of a form of externality. For these axioms, and these only, are necessarily true of any world in which experience is possible.

This part of Kant's argument is wholly irrelevant for us. Whether a form of externality be given in sense, or in a pure intuition, is for us unimportant, since we neglect the question as to the connection of the à priori and the subjective; while the temporal priority of space to objects in it has been generally recognized as irrelevant to Epistemology, and has often been regarded as forming no part of Kant's thesis[181]. If we call intuitional whatever is given in sense-perception, then we may contend that a form of externality must be intuitional; but whether it is a pure intuition, in Kant's sense, or not, is irrelevant to us, as is its priority to the objects in it.

That the non-sensational nature of space is no essential part of Kant's logical teaching, appears from an examination of his argument. He has made, in the introduction, the purely logical distinction of matter and form, but has given to this distinction, in the very moment of suggesting it, a psychological implication. This he does by the assertion that the form, in which the matter of sensations is ordered, cannot itself be sensational. From this assumption it follows, of course, that space cannot be sensational. But the assumption is totally unsupported by argument, being set forth, apparently, as a self-evident axiom; it has been severely criticized by Stumpf[182] and others[183], and has been described by Vaihinger as a fatal petitio principii[184]; it is irrelevant to the logical argument, when this argument is separated, as we have separated it, from all connection with psychological subjectivity; and finally, it leaves us a prey to psychological theories of space, which have seemed, of late, but little favourable to the pure Kantian doctrine.

Space seems to perform two functions: on the one hand, it reveals things, by the eccentric projection of sensations, as external to the self, while, on the other hand, it reveals simultaneously presented things as mutually external. These two functions, though often treated as coordinate and almost equivalent[185], seem to me widely different. Before we discuss the apriority of space, we must carefully distinguish, I think, between these two functions, and decide which of them we are to argue about.

Now externality to the Self, it would seem, must necessarily raise the whole question of the nature and limits of the Ego, and what is more, it cannot be derived from spatial presentation, unless we give the Self a definite position in space. But things acquire a position in space only when they can appear in sense-perception; we are forced, therefore, if we adopt this view of the function of space, to regard the Self as a phenomenon presented to sense-perception. But this reduces externality to the Self to externality to the body. The body, however, is a presented object like any other, and externality of objects to it is, therefore, a special case of the mutual externality of presented things. Hence we cannot regard space as giving, primarily at any rate, externality to the Self, but only the mutual externality of the things presented to sense-perception[186].

My premiss, in this argument, is that all knowledge involves a recognition of diversity in relation, or, if we prefer it, of identity in difference. This premiss I accept from Logic, as resulting from the analysis of judgment and inference. To prove such a premiss, would require a treatise on Logic; I must refer the reader, therefore, to the works of Bradley and Bosanquet on the subject. It follows at once, from my premiss, that knowledge would be impossible, unless the object of attention could be complex, i.e. not a mere particular. Now could the mental object—i.e., in this connection, the object of a cognition—be complex, if the object of immediate perception were always simple?

This question we must, I think, answer in the negative. With time alone, we have seen, our presented object must be complex, but its complexity must, if I may use such a phrase, be merely adjectival. Without a second form of externality, only one thing can be given at one moment[189], and this one thing, therefore, must constitute the whole of our world. The object of past perception must—since our one thing has nothing external to it, by which it could be created or destroyed—be regarded as the same thing in a different state. The complexity, therefore, will lie only in the changing states of our one thing—it will be adjectival, not substantival. Moreover we have the following dilemma: Either the one thing must be ourselves, or else self-consciousness could never arise. But the chief difficulty of such a world would lie in the changes of the thing. What could cause these changes, since we should know of nothing external to our thing? It would be like a Leibnitzian monad, without any God outside it to prearrange its changes. Causality, in such a world, could not be applied, and change would be wholly inexplicable.

Hence we require also the possibility of a diversity of simultaneously existing things, not merely of successive adjectives; and this, we have seen, cannot be given by time alone, but only by a form of externality for simultaneous parts of one presentation. We could never, in other words, infer the existence of diverse but interrelated things, unless the object of sense-perception could have substantival complexity, and for such complexity we require a form of externality other than time. Such a form, moreover, as was shown in Chapter III., Section A (§ 135), can only fulfil its functions if it has more than one dimension. In our actual world, this form is given by space; in any world, knowable to beings with our laws of thought, some such form, as we have now seen, must be given in sense-perception.

This argument may be briefly summed up, by assuming the doctrine of Bradley, that all knowledge is obtained by inference from the This of sense-perception. For, if this be so, the This—in order that inference, which depends on identity in difference, may be possible at all—must itself be complex, and must, on analysis, reveal adjectives having a reference beyond itself. But this, as was shown above, can only happen by means of a form of externality. This establishes the à priori axioms of Geometry, as necessarily having existential import and validity in any intelligible world.

I cannot hope, however, that no difficulty will remain, for the reader, in such a deduction, from abstract conceptions, of the properties of an actual datum in sense-perception. Let us consider, for example, such a property as impenetrability. To suppose two things simultaneously in the same position in a form of externality, is a logical contradiction; but can we say as much of actual space and time? Is not the impossibility, here, a matter of experience rather than of logic? Not if the above argument has been sound, I reply. For in that case, we infer real diversity, i.e. the existence of different things, only from difference of position in space or time. It follows, that to suppose two things in the same point of space and time, is still a logical contradiction: not because we have constructed the data of sense out of logic, but because logic is dependent, as regards its application, on the nature of these data. This instance illustrates, what I am anxious to make plain, that my argument has not attempted to construct the living wealth of sense-perception out of "bloodless categories," but only to point out that, unless sense-perception contained a certain element, these categories would be powerless to grapple with it.

The three following contradictions, which I shall discuss successively, seem to me the most prominent in a theory of Geometry.

(1) Though the parts of space are intuitively distinguished, no conception is adequate to differentiate them. Hence arises a vain search for elements, by which the differentiation could be accomplished, and for a whole, of which the parts of space are to be components. Thus we get the point, or zero extension, as the spatial element, and an infinite regress or a vicious circle in the search for a whole.

(2) All positions being relative, positions can only be defined by their relations, i.e. by the straight lines or planes through them; but straight lines and planes, being all qualitatively similar, can only be defined by the positions they relate. Hence, again, we get a vicious circle.

(3) Spatial figures must be regarded as relations. But a relation is necessarily indivisible, while spatial figures are necessarily divisible ad infinitum.

The only way, I think, is, not to make Geometry dependent on Physics, which we have seen to be erroneous[192], but to give every geometrical proposition a certain reference to matter in general. And at this point an important distinction must be made. We have hitherto spoken of space as relational, and of spatial figures as relations. But space, it would seem, is rather relativity than relations—itself not a relation, it gives the bare possibility of relations between diverse things[193]. As applied to a spatial figure, which can only arise by a differentiation of space, and hence by the introduction of some differentiating matter, the word relation is, perhaps, less misleading than any other; as applied to empty undifferentiated space, it seems by no means an accurate description.

But a bare possibility cannot exist, or be given in sense-perception! What becomes, then, of the arguments of the first part of this chapter? I reply, it is not empty space, but spatial figures, which sense-perception reveals, and spatial figures, as we have just seen, involve a differentiation of space, and therefore a reference to the matter which is in space. It is spatial figures, also, and not empty space, with which Geometry has to deal. The antinomy discussed above arises then—so it would seem—from the attempt to deal with empty space, rather than with spatial figures and the matter to which they necessarily refer.

Empty space, we have said, is a possibility of diversity in relation, but spatial figures, with which Geometry necessarily deals, are the actual relations rendered possible by empty space. Our matter, therefore, must supply the terms for these relations. It must be differentiated, since such differentiation, as we have seen, is the special work of space. We must find, therefore, in our matter, that unit of differentiation, or atom[194], which in space we could not find. This atom must be simple, i.e. it must contain no real diversity; it must be a This not resolvable into Thises. Being simple, it can contain no relations within itself, and consequently, since spatial figures are mere relations, it cannot appear as a spatial figure; for every spatial figure involves some diversity of matter. But our atom must have spatial relations with other atoms, since to supply terms for these relations is its only function. It is also capable of having these relations, since it is differentiated from other atoms. Hence we obtain an unextended term for spatial relations, precisely of the kind we require. So long as we sought this term without reference to anything more than space, the self-contradictory notion of the point was the only outcome of our search; but now that we allow a reference to the matter differentiated by space, we find at once the term which was needed, namely, a non-spatial simple element, with spatial relations to other elements. To Geometry such a term will appear, owing to its spatial relations, as a point; but the contradiction of the point, as we now see, is a result only of the undue abstraction with which Geometry deals.

May we not, then, resolve the antinomy very simply, by a reference to this ambiguity of space? Bradley contends (Appearance and Reality, pp. 36–7) that, on the one hand, space has parts, and is therefore not mere relations, while on the other hand, when we try to say what these parts are, we find them after all to be mere relations. But cannot the space which has parts be regarded as empty space, Stumpf's absolute underlying content, which is not mere relations, while the parts, in so far as they turn out to be mere relations, are those relations which constitute spatial order, not empty space? If this can be maintained, the antinomy no longer exists.

But such an explanation, though I believe it to be a first step towards a solution, will, I fear, itself demand almost as much explanation as the original difficulty. For the connection of empty space with spatial order is itself a question full of difficulty, to be answered only after much labour.

Leibnitz had affirmed that space was only relations, while Newton had maintained the objective reality of absolute space. Kant adopted a middle course: he asserted absolute space, but regarded it as purely subjective. The assertion of absolute space is the object of his second argument; for if space were mere relations between things, it would necessarily disappear with the disappearance of the things in it; but this the second argument denies[196]. Now spatial order obviously does disappear with matter, but absolute or empty space may be supposed to remain. It is this, then, which Kant is arguing about, and it is this which he affirms to be a pure intuition, necessarily presupposed by spatial order[197].

The uniqueness of space, again, seems hardly a valid argument for its intuitional nature; to regard it as an argument implies, indeed, that all conceptions are abstracted from a series of instances—a view which has been criticized in Chapter II. (§ 77), and need not be further discussed here[200]. There is no ground, therefore, in Kant's two arguments for the intuitional nature of empty space, which can be maintained against criticism.

The same reference to matter, then, by which the antinomy of the Point was solved, solves also the antinomy as to the relational nature of space. Space, if it is to be freed from contradictions, must be regarded exclusively as spatial order, as relations between unextended material atoms. Empty space, which arises, by an inevitable illusion, out of the spatial element in sense-perception, may be regarded, if we wish to retain it, as the bare principle of relativity, the bare logical possibility of relations between diverse things. In this sense, empty space is wholly conceptual; spatial order alone is immediately experienced.

Every relation, we may say, involves a diversity between the related terms, but also some unity. Mere diversity does not give a ground for that interaction, and that interdependence, which a relation requires. Mere unity leaves the terms identical, and thus destroys the reference of one to another required for a relation. Mere externality, taken in abstraction, gives only the element of diversity required for a relation, and is thus more abstract than any actual relation. But mere diversity does not give that indivisible whole of which any actual relation must consist, and is thus, when regarded abstractly, not subject to the restrictions of ordinary relations.

But with mere diversity, we seem to have returned to empty space, and abandoned spatial order. Mere diversity, surely, is either complete or non-existent; degrees of diversity, or a quantitative measure of it, are nonsense. We cannot, therefore, reduce spatial order to mere diversity. Two things, if they occupy different positions in space, are necessarily diverse, but are as necessarily something more; otherwise spatial order becomes unmeaning.

Empty space, then, in the above sense of the possibility of spatial relations, contains only one aspect of a relation, namely the aspect of diversity; but spatial order, by its reference to matter, becomes more concrete, and contains also the element of unity, arising out of the connection of the different material atoms. Spatial order, then, consists of relations in the ordinary sense; its merely spatial element, however—if one may make such a distinction—the element, that is, which can be abstracted from matter and regarded as constituting empty space, is only one aspect of a relation, but an aspect which, in the concrete, must be inseparably bound up with the other aspect. Here, once more, we see the ground of the contradictions in empty space, and the reason why spatial order is free from these contradictions.

Conclusion.

In the first chapter, we watched the development of a branch of Mathematics designed, at first, only to establish the logical independence of Euclid's axiom of parallels, and the possibility of a self-consistent Geometry which dispensed with it. We found the further development of the subject entangled, for a while, in philosophical controversy; having shown one axiom to be superfluous, the geometers of the second period hoped to prove the same conclusion of all the others, but failed to construct any system free from three fundamental axioms. Being concerned with analytical and metrical Geometry, they tended to regard Algebra as à priori, but held that those properties of spatial magnitudes, which were not deducible from the laws of Algebra, must be empirical. In all this, they aimed as much at discrediting Kant as at advancing Mathematics. But with the third period, the interest in Philosophy diminishes, the opposition to Euclid becomes less marked, and most important of all, measurement is no longer regarded as fundamental, and space is dealt with by descriptive rather than quantitative methods. But nevertheless, three axioms, substantially the same as those retained in the second period, are still retained by all geometers.

In the second chapter, we endeavoured, by a criticism of some geometrical philosophies, to prepare the ground for a constructive theory of Geometry. We saw that Kant, in applying the argument of the Transcendental Aesthetic to space, had gone too far, since its logical scope extended only to some form of externality in general. We saw that Riemann, Helmholtz and Erdmann, misled by the quantitative bias, overlooked the qualitative substratum required by all judgments of quantity, and thus mistook the direction in which the necessary axioms of Geometry are to be found. We rejected, also, Helmholtz's view that Geometry depends on Physics, because we found that Physics must assume a knowledge of Geometry before it can become possible. But we admitted, in Geometry, a reference to matter—not, however, to matter as empirically known in Physics, but to a more abstract matter, whose sole function is to appear in space, and supply the terms for spatial relations. We admitted, however, besides this, that all actual measurement must be effected by means of actual matter, and is only empirically possible, through the empirical knowledge of approximately rigid bodies. In criticizing Lotze, we saw that the most important sense, in which non-Euclidean spaces are possible, is a philosophical sense, namely, that they are not condemned by any à priori argument as to the necessity of space for experience, and that consequently, if they are not affirmed, this must be on empirical grounds alone. Lotze's strictures on the mathematical procedure of Metageometry we found to be wholly due to ignorance of the subject.

Proceeding, in the third chapter, to a constructive theory of Geometry, we saw that projective Geometry, which has no reference to quantity, is necessarily true of any form of externality. Its three axioms—homogeneity, dimensions, and the straight line—were all deduced from the conception of a form of externality, and, since some such form is necessary to experience, were all declared à priori. In metrical Geometry, on the contrary, we found an empirical element, arising out of the alternatives of Euclidean and non-Euclidean space. Three à priori axioms, common to these spaces, and necessary conditions of the possibility of measurement, still remained; these were the axiom of Free Mobility, the axiom that space has a finite integral number of dimensions, and the axiom of distance. Except for the new idea of motion, these were found equivalent to the projective triad, and thus necessarily true of any form of externality. But the remaining axioms of Euclid—the axiom of three dimensions, the axiom that two straight lines can never enclose a space, and the axiom of parallels—were regarded as empirical laws, derived from the investigation and measurement of our actual space, and true only, as far as the last two are concerned, within the limits set by errors of observation.

In the present chapter, we completed our proof of the apriority of the projective and equivalent metrical axioms, by showing the necessity, for experience, of some form of externality, given by sensation or intuition, and not merely inferred from other data. Without this, we said, a knowledge of diverse but interrelated things, the corner-stone of all experience, would be impossible. Finally, we discussed the contradictions arising out of the relativity and continuity of space, and endeavoured to overcome them by a reference to matter. This matter, we found, must consist of unextended atoms, localized by their spatial relations, and appearing, in Geometry, as points. But the non-spatial adjectives of matter, we contended, are irrelevant to Geometry, and its causal properties may be left out of account. To deal with the new contradictions, involved in such a notion of matter, would demand a fresh treatise, leading us, through Kinematics, into the domains of Dynamics and Physics. But to discuss the special difficulties of space is all that is possible in an essay on the Foundations of Geometry.

FOOTNOTES:

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AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS.