These chapters were written before I had seen
the Washington monument which faces the Capitol
in the City of Washington, and before I had
enjoyed the experience of crossing the borders of
the State of Virginia—a great experience for an
Englishman.
Virginia, that symbol for romance throughout
the world of English speech: Virginia, which was
captured for that world in the romantic period
of English history by Sir Walter Raleigh, its most
romantic figure: Virginia, which has been true
to its origin and has steeped its history in
romance.
Romance does not yield unbroken happiness:
Sir Walter Raleigh suffered for his romance.
Romance does not creep along the ground; like the
memorial to Washington, it reaches upward—a
silver thread uniting earth to the blue of heaven
above.
April 18, 1927.
PREFACE
vii
In accordance with the terms of the Barbour-Page
Foundation, these lectures are published by
the University of Virginia. The author owes his
thanks to the authorities of the university for
their courtesy in conforming to his wishes in respect
to some important details of publication.
With the exception of a few trifling changes the
lectures are printed as delivered.
These lectures will be best understood by
reference to some portions of Locke’s Essay
Concerning Human Understanding. The author’s
acknowledgments are due to Locke’s
Theory of Knowledge and Its Historical Relations
by Professor James Gibson, to Prolegomena
to an Idealist Theory of Knowledge by
Professor Norman Kemp Smith, and to Scepticism
and Animal Faith by George Santayana.
CHAPTER I — 1. Kinds of Symbolism. — 2. Symbolism and Perception. — 3. On Methodology. — 4. Fallibility of Symbolism. — 5. Definition of Symbolism. — 6. Experience as Activity. — 7. Language. — 8. Presentational Immediacy. — 9. Perceptive Experience. — 10. Symbolic Reference in Perceptive Experience. — 11. Mental and Physical. — 12. Rôles of Sense-data and Space in Presentational Immediacy. — 13. Objectification.
1
The slightest survey of different epochs of
civilization discloses great differences in their attitude
towards symbolism. For example, during
the medieval period in Europe symbolism seemed
to dominate men’s imaginations. Architecture
was symbolical, ceremonial was symbolical,
heraldry was symbolical. With the Reformation
a reaction set in. Men tried to dispense with
symbols as ‘fond things, vainly invented,’ and
concentrated on their direct apprehension of the
ultimate facts.
But such symbolism is on the fringe of life. It
has an unessential element in its constitution. The
very fact that it can be acquired in one epoch and
discarded in another epoch testifies to its superficial
nature.
2There are deeper types of symbolism, in a sense
artificial, and yet such that we could not get on
without them. Language, written or spoken, is
such a symbolism. The mere sound of a word,
or its shape on paper, is indifferent. The word
is a symbol, and its meaning is constituted by the
ideas, images, and emotions, which it raises in
the mind of the hearer.
There is also another sort of language, purely
a written language, which is constituted by the
mathematical symbols of the science of algebra.
In some ways, these symbols are different to those
of ordinary language, because the manipulation
of the algebraical symbols does your reasoning
for you, provided that you keep to the algebraic
rules. This is not the case with ordinary language.
You can never forget the meaning of
language, and trust to mere syntax to help you
out. In any case, language and algebra seem to
exemplify more fundamental types of symbolism
than do the Cathedrals of Medieval Europe.
There is still another symbolism more fundamental
than any of the foregoing types. We look
up and see a coloured shape in front of us, and
3we say,—there is a chair. But what we have
seen is the mere coloured shape. Perhaps an
artist might not have jumped to the notion of a
chair. He might have stopped at the mere contemplation
of a beautiful colour and a beautiful
shape. But those of us who are not artists are
very prone, especially if we are tired, to pass
straight from the perception of the coloured shape
to the enjoyment of the chair, in some way of use,
or of emotion, or of thought. We can easily explain
this passage by reference to a train of difficult
logical inference, whereby, having regard to
our previous experiences of various shapes and
various colours, we draw the probable conclusion
that we are in the presence of a chair. I am very
sceptical as to the high-grade character of the
mentality required to get from the coloured shape
to the chair. One reason for this scepticism Is
that my friend the artist, who kept himself to the
contemplation of colour, shape and position, was
a very highly trained man, and had acquired this
facility of ignoring the chair at the cost of great
labour. We do not require elaborate training
merely in order to refrain from embarking upon
intricate trains of inference. Such abstinence is
only too easy. Another reason for scepticism is
4that if we had been accompanied by a puppy dog,
in addition to the artist, the dog would have acted
immediately on the hypothesis of a chair and
would have jumped onto it by way of using it as
such. Again, if the dog had refrained from such
action, it would have been because it was a well-trained
dog. Therefore the transition from a
coloured shape to the notion of an object which
can be used for all sorts of purposes which have
nothing to do with colour, seems to be a very
natural one; and we—men and puppy dogs—require
careful training if we are to refrain from
acting upon it.
Thus coloured shapes seem to be symbols for
some other elements in our experience, and when
we see the coloured shapes we adjust our actions
towards those other elements. This symbolism
from our senses to the bodies symbolized is often
mistaken. A cunning adjustment of lights and
mirrors may completely deceive us; and even when
we are not deceived, we only save ourselves by
an effort. Symbolism from sense-presentation to
physical bodies is the most natural and widespread
of all symbolic modes. It is not a mere tropism,
or automatic turning towards, because both men
and puppies often disregard chairs when they see
5them. Also a tulip which turns to the light has
probably the very minimum of sense-presentation.
I shall argue on the assumption that sense-perception
is mainly a characteristic of more advanced
organisms; whereas all organisms have experience
of causal efficacy whereby their functioning
is conditioned by their environment.
In fact symbolism is very largely concerned with
the use of pure sense-perceptions in the character
of symbols for more primitive elements in our experience.
Accordingly since sense-perceptions, of
any importance, are characteristic of high-grade
organisms, I shall chiefly confine this study of
symbolism to the influence of symbolism on human
life. It is a general principle that low-grade characteristics
are better studied first in connection
with correspondingly low-grade organisms, in
which those characteristics are not obscured by
more developed types of functioning. Conversely,
high-grade characters should be studied
first in connection with those organisms in which
they first come to full perfection.
Of course, as a second approximation to elicit
the full sweep of particular characters, we want
6to know the embryonic stage of the high-grade
character, and the ways in which low-grade characters
can be made subservient to higher types of
functioning.
The nineteenth century exaggerated the power
of the historical method, and assumed as a matter
of course that every character should be
studied only in its embryonic stage. Thus, for
example, ‘Love’ has been studied among the
savages and latterly among the morons.
There is one great difference between symbolism
and direct knowledge. Direct experience
is infallible. What you have experienced, you
have experienced. But symbolism is very fallible,
in the sense that it may induce actions, feelings,
emotions, and beliefs about things which are mere
notions without that exemplification in the world
which the symbolism leads us to presuppose. I
shall develop the thesis that symbolism is an essential
factor in the way we function as the result
of our direct knowledge. Successful high-grade
organisms are only possible, on the condition that
their symbolic functionings are usually justified so
far as important issues are concerned. But the
7errors of mankind equally spring from symbolism.
It is the task of reason to understand and purge
the symbols on which humanity depends.
An adequate account of human mentality requires
an explanation of (i) how we can know
truly, (ii) how we can err, and (iii) how we can
critically distinguish truth from error. Such an
explanation requires that we distinguish that type
of mental functioning which by its nature yields immediate
acquaintance with fact, from that type of
functioning which is only trustworthy by reason of
its satisfaction of certain criteria provided by the
first type of functioning.
I shall maintain that the first type of functioning
is properly to be called ‘Direct Recognition,’
and the second type ‘Symbolic Reference.’ I shall
also endeavour to illustrate the doctrine that all
human symbolism, however superficial it may
seem, is ultimately to be reduced to trains of this
fundamental symbolic reference, trains which
finally connect percepts in alternative modes of direct
recognition.
After this prefatory explanation, we must start
from a formal definition of symbolism: The human
8mind is functioning symbolically when some
components of its experience elicit consciousness,
beliefs, emotions, and usages, respecting other
components of its experience. The former set of
components are the ‘symbols,’ and the latter set
constitute the ‘meaning’ of the symbols. The organic
functioning whereby there is transition from
the symbol to the meaning will be called ‘symbolic
reference.’
This symbolic reference is the active synthetic
element contributed by the nature of the percipient.
It requires a ground founded on some community
between the natures of symbol and meaning.
But such a common element in the two
natures does not of itself necessitate symbolic reference,
nor does it decide which shall be symbol
and which shall be meaning, nor does it secure that
the symbolic reference shall be immune from producing
errors and disasters for the percipient. We
must conceive perception in the light of a primary
phase in the self-production of an occasion of actual
existence.
In defence of this notion of self-production arising
out of some primary given phase, I would remind
you that, apart from it, there can be no
moral responsibility. The potter, and not the pot,
9is responsible for the shape of the pot. An actual
occasion arises as the bringing together into one
real context diverse perceptions, diverse feelings,
diverse purposes, and other diverse activities arising
out of those primary perceptions. Here activity
is another name for self-production.
In this way we assign to the percipient an activity
in the production of its own experience, although
that moment of experience, in its character
of being that one occasion, is nothing else than the
percipient itself. Thus, for the percipient at least,
the perception is an internal relationship between
itself and the things perceived.
In analysis the total activity involved in perception
of the symbolic reference must be referred
to the percipient. Such symbolic reference requires
something in common between symbol and
meaning which can be expressed without reference
to the perfected percipient; but it also requires
some activity of the percipient which can be considered
without recourse either to the particular
symbol or its particular meaning. Considered by
themselves the symbol and its meaning do not require
either that there shall be a symbolic reference
10between the two, or that the symbolic
reference between the members of the couple
should be one way on rather than the other way
on. The nature of their relationship does not in
itself determine which is symbol and which is
meaning. There are no components of experience
which are only symbols or only meanings. The
more usual symbolic reference is from the less
primitive component as symbol to the more primitive
as meaning.
This statement is the foundation of a thoroughgoing
realism. It does away with any mysterious
element in our experience which is merely meant,
and thereby behind the veil of direct perception.
It proclaims the principle that symbolic reference
holds between two components in a complex experience,
each intrinsically capable of direct recognition.
Any lack of such conscious analytical recognition
is the fault of the defect in mentality on
the part of a comparatively low-grade percipient.
To exemplify the inversion of symbol and meaning,
consider language and the things meant by
language. A word is a symbol. But a word can
be either written or spoken. Now on occasions
11a written word may suggest the corresponding
spoken word, and that sound may suggest a
meaning.
In such an instance, the written word is a symbol
and its meaning is the spoken word, and the
spoken word is a symbol and its meaning is
the dictionary meaning of the word, spoken or
written.
But often the written word effects its purpose
without the intervention of the spoken word. Accordingly,
then, the written word directly symbolizes
the dictionary meaning. But so fluctuating
and complex is human experience that in general
neither of these cases is exemplified in the clear-cut
way which is set out here. Often the written
word suggests both the spoken word and also the
meaning, and the symbolic reference is made
clearer and more definite by the additional reference
of the spoken word to the same meaning.
Analogously we can start from the spoken word
which may elicit a visual perception of the written
word.
Further, why do we say that the word ‘tree’—spoken
or written—is a symbol to us for trees?
Both the word itself and trees themselves enter
into our experience on equal terms; and it would
12be just as sensible, viewing the question abstractedly,
for trees to symbolize the word ‘tree’ as for
the word to symbolize the trees.
This is certainly true, and human nature sometimes
works that way. For example, if you are a
poet and wish to write a lyric on trees, you will
walk into the forest in order that the trees may
suggest the appropriate words. Thus for the poet
in his ecstasy—or perhaps, agony—of composition
the trees are the symbols and the words are the
meaning. He concentrates on the trees in order to
get at the words.
But most of us are not poets, though we read
their lyrics with proper respect. For us, the words
are the symbols which enable us to capture the
rapture of the poet in the forest. The poet is a
person for whom visual sights and sounds and
emotional experiences refer symbolically to words.
The poet’s readers are people for whom his words
refer symbolically to the visual sights and sounds
and emotions he wants to evoke. Thus in the use
of language there is a double symbolic reference:—from
things to words on the part of the speaker,
and from words back to things on the part of the
listener.
When in an act of human experience there is a
13symbolic reference, there are in the first place two
sets of components with some objective relationship
between them, and this relationship will vary
greatly in different instances. In the second place
the total constitution of the percipient has to effect
the symbolic reference from one set of components,
the symbols, to the other set of components,
the meaning. In the third place, the question,
as to which set of components form the
symbols and which set the meaning, also depends
on the peculiar constitution of that act of experience.
The most fundamental exemplification of symbolism
has already been alluded to in the discussion
of the poet and the circumstances which elicit
his poetry. We have here a particular instance
of the reference of words to things. But this general
relation of words to things is only a particular
instance of a yet more general fact. Our perception
of the external world is divided into two
types of content: one type is the familiar immediate
presentation of the contemporary world, by
means of our projection of our immediate sensations,
determining for us characteristics of contemporary
14physical entities. This type is the experience
of the immediate world around us, a
world decorated by sense-data dependent on the
immediate states of relevant parts of our own
bodies. Physiology establishes this latter fact conclusively;
but the physiological details are irrelevant
to the present philosophical discussion, and
only confuse the issue. ‘Sense-datum’ is a modern
term: Hume uses the word ‘impression.’
For human beings, this type of experience is
vivid, and is especially distinct in its exhibition of
the spatial regions and relationships within the
contemporary world.
The familiar language which I have used in
speaking of the ‘projection of our sensations’ is
very misleading. There are no bare sensations
which are first experienced and then ‘projected’
into our feet as their feelings, or onto the opposite
wall as its colour. The projection is an integral
part of the situation, quite as original as the
sense-data. It would be just as accurate, and
equally misleading, to speak of a projection on the
wall which is then characterized as such-and-such a
colour. The use of the term ‘wall’ is equally misleading
by its suggestion of information derived
symbolically from another mode of perception.
15This so-called ‘wall,’ disclosed in the pure mode of
presentational immediacy, contributes itself to our
experience only under the guise of spatial extension,
combined with spatial perspective, and combined
with sense-data which in this example reduce
to colour alone.
I say that the wall contributes itself under this
guise, in preference to saying that it contributes
these universal characters in combination. For the
characters are combined by their exposition of one
thing in a common world including ourselves, that
one thing which I call the ‘wall.’ Our perception
is not confined to universal characters; we do not
perceive disembodied colour or disembodied extensiveness:
we perceive the wall’s colour and extensiveness.
The experienced fact is ‘colour away
on the wall for us.’ Thus the colour and the spatial
perspective are abstract elements, characterizing
the concrete way in which the wall enters into
our experience. They are therefore relational elements
between the ‘percipient at that moment,’
and that other equally actual entity, or set of entities,
which we call the ‘wall at that moment.’
But the mere colour and the mere spatial perspective
are very abstract entities, because they are
only arrived at by discarding the concrete relationship
16between the wall-at-that-moment and the percipient-at-that-moment.
This concrete relationship
is a physical fact which may be very unessential to
the wall and very essential to the percipient. The
spatial relationship is equally essential both to wall
and percipient: but the colour side of the relationship
is at that moment indifferent to the wall,
though it is part of the make-up of the percipient.
In this sense, and subject to their spatial relationship,
contemporary events happen independently.
I call this type of experience ‘presentational immediacy.’
It expresses how contemporary events
are relevant to each other, and yet preserve a mutual
independence. This relevance amid independence
is the peculiar character of contemporaneousness.
This presentational immediacy is only
of importance in high-grade organisms, and is a
physical fact which may, or may not, enter into
consciousness. Such entry will depend on attention
and on the activity of conceptual functioning,
whereby physical experience and conceptual imagination
are fused into knowledge.
The word ‘experience’ is one of the most deceitful
in philosophy. Its adequate discussion
17would be the topic for a treatise. I can only
indicate those elements in my analysis of it
which are relevant to the present train of
thought.
Our experience, so far as it is primarily concerned
with our direct recognition of a solid world
of other things which are actual in the same sense
that we are actual, has three main independent
modes each contributing its share of components
to our individual rise into one concrete moment of
human experience. Two of these modes of experience
I will call perceptive, and the third I will
call the mode of conceptual analysis. In respect
to pure perception, I call one of the two types concerned
the mode of ‘presentational immediacy,’
and the other the mode of ‘causal efficacy.’ Both
‘presentational immediacy’ and ‘causal efficacy’ introduce
into human experience components which
are again analysable into actual things of the actual
world and into abstract attributes, qualities,
and relations, which express how those other actual
things contribute themselves as components to
our individual experience. These abstractions express
how other actualities are component objects
for us. I will therefore say that they ‘objectify’
for us the actual things in our ‘environment.’ Our
18most immediate environment is constituted by the
various organs of our own bodies, our more remote
environment is the physical world in the
neighbourhood. But the word ‘environment’
means those other actual things, which are ‘objectified’
in some important way so as to form
component elements in our individual experience.
Of the two distinct perceptive modes, one mode
‘objectifies’ actual things under the guise of presentational
immediacy, and the other mode, which
I have not yet discussed, ‘objectifies’ them under
the guise of causal efficacy. The synthetic activity
whereby these two modes are fused into one perception
is what I have called ‘symbolic reference.’
By symbolic reference the various actualities disclosed
respectively by the two modes are either
identified, or are at least correlated together as
interrelated elements in our environment. Thus
the result of symbolic reference is what the actual
world is for us, as that datum in our experience
productive of feelings, emotions, satisfactions, actions,
and finally as the topic for conscious recognition
when our mentality intervenes with its conceptual
19analysis. ‘Direct recognition’ is conscious
recognition of a percept in a pure mode, devoid of
symbolic reference.
Symbolic reference may be, in many respects, erroneous.
By this I mean that some ‘direct recognition’
disagrees, in its report of the actual world,
with the conscious recognition of the fused product
resulting from symbolic reference. Thus error is
primarily the product of symbolic reference, and
not of conceptual analysis. Also symbolic reference
itself is not primarily the outcome of conceptual
analysis, though it is greatly promoted by it.
For symbolic reference is still dominant in experience
when such mental analysis is at a low ebb.
We all know Aesop’s fable of the dog who
dropped a piece of meat to grasp at its reflection
in the water. We must not, however, judge too
severely of error. In the initial stages of mental
progress, error in symbolic reference is the discipline
which promotes imaginative freedom.
Aesop’s dog lost his meat, but he gained a step on
the road towards a free imagination.
Thus symbolic reference must be explained antecedently
to conceptual analysis, although there is a
strong interplay between the two whereby they
promote each other.
20
By way of being as intelligible as possible we
might tacitly assign symbolic reference to mental
activity, and thereby avoid some detailed explanation.
It is a matter of pure convention as to which
of our experiential activities we term mental and
which physical. Personally I prefer to restrict
mentality to those experiential activities which include
concepts in addition to percepts. But much
of our perception is due to the enhanced subtlety
arising from a concurrent conceptual analysis.
Thus in fact there is no proper line to be drawn
between the physical and the mental constitution of
experience. But there is no conscious knowledge
apart from the intervention of mentality in the
form of conceptual analysis.
It will be necessary later on to make some slight
reference to conceptual analysis; but at present I
must assume consciousness and its partial analysis
of experience, and return to the two modes of pure
perception. The point that I want to make here
is, that the reason why low-grade purely physical
organisms cannot make mistakes is not primarily
their absence of thought, but their absence of presentational
immediacy. Aesop’s dog, who was a
21poor thinker, made a mistake by reason of an erroneous
symbolic reference from presentational
immediacy to causal efficacy. In short, truth and
error dwell in the world by reason of synthesis:
every actual thing is synthetic: and symbolic reference
is one primitive form of synthetic activity
whereby what is actual arises from its given
phases.
By ‘presentational immediacy’ I mean what is
usually termed ‘sense-perception.’ But I am using
the former term under limitations and extensions
which are foreign to the common use of the latter
term.
Presentational immediacy is our immediate perception
of the contemporary external world, appearing
as an element constitutive of our own experience.
In this appearance the world discloses
itself to be a community of actual things, which
are actual in the same sense as we are.
This appearance is effected by the mediation of
qualities, such as colours, sounds, tastes, etc.,
which can with equal truth be described as our
sensations or as the qualities of the actual things
22which we perceive. These qualities are thus relational
between the perceiving subject and the
perceived things. They can be thus isolated only
by abstracting them from their implication in the
scheme of spatial relatedness of the perceived
things to each other and to the perceiving subject.
This relatedness of spatial extension is a complete
scheme, impartial between the observer and the
perceived things. It is the scheme of the morphology
of the complex organisms forming the community
of the contemporary world. The way in
which each actual physical organism enters into
the make-up of its contemporaries has to conform
to this scheme. Thus the sense-data, such as colours,
etc., or bodily feelings, introduce the extended
physical entities into our experience under
perspectives provided by this spatial scheme. The
spatial relations by themselves are generic abstractions,
and the sense-data are generic abstractions.
But the perspectives of the sense-data provided by
the spatial relations are the specific relations
whereby the external contemporary things are to
this extent part of our experience. These contemporary
organisms, thus introduced as ‘objects’
into experience, include the various organs of our
body, and the sense-data are then called bodily
23feelings. The bodily organs, and those other external
things which make important contributions
to this mode of our perception, together form the
contemporary environment of the percipient organism.
The main facts about presentational immediacy
are: (i) that the sense-data involved
depend on the percipient organism and its spatial
relations to the perceived organisms; (ii) that the
contemporary world is exhibited as extended and
as a plenum of organisms; (iii) that presentational
immediacy is an important factor in the experience
of only a few high-grade organisms, and
that for the others it is embryonic or entirely
negligible.
Thus the disclosure of a contemporary world by
presentational immediacy is bound up with the disclosure
of the solidarity of actual things by reason
of their participation in an impartial system of
spatial extension. Beyond this, the knowledge
provided by pure presentational immediacy is
vivid, precise, and barren. It is also to a large
extent controllable at will. I mean that one moment
of experience can predetermine to a considerable
extent, by inhibitions, or by intensifications,
or by other modifications, the characteristics of
the presentational immediacy in succeeding moments
24of experience. This mode of perception,
taken purely by itself, is barren, because we may
not directly connect the qualitative presentations
of other things with any intrinsic characters of
those things. We see the image of a coloured
chair, presenting to us the space behind a mirror;
yet we thereby gain no knowledge concerning any
intrinsic characters of spaces behind the mirror.
But the image thus seen in a good mirror is just
as much an immediate presentation of colour qualifying
the world at a distance behind the mirror, as
is our direct vision of the chair when we turn round
and look at it. Pure presentational immediacy refuses
to be divided into delusions and not-delusions.
It is either all of it, or none of it, an immediate
presentation of an external contemporary
world as in its own right spatial. The sense-data
involved in presentational immediacy have a wider
relationship in the world than these contemporary
things can express. In abstraction from this wider
relationship, there is no means of determining the
importance of the apparent qualification of contemporary
objects by sense-data. For this reason
the phrase ‘mere appearance’ carries the suggestion
of barrenness. This wider relationship of the
sense-data can only be understood by examining
25the alternative mode of perception, the mode of
causal efficacy. But in so far as contemporary
things are bound together by mere presentational
immediacy, they happen in complete independence
except for their spatial relations at the moment.
Also for most events, we presume that their intrinsic
experience of presentational immediacy is so
embryonic as to be negligible. This perceptive
mode is important only for a small minority of
elaborate organisms.
In this explanation of Presentational Immediacy,
I am conforming to the distinction according
to which actual things are objectively in our
experience and formally existing in their own completeness.
I maintain that presentational immediacy
is that peculiar way in which contemporary
things are ‘objectively’ in our experience, and
that among the abstract entities which constitute
factors in the mode of introduction are those abstractions
usually called sense-data:—for example,
colours, sounds, tastes, touches, and bodily
feelings.
Thus ‘objectification’ itself is abstraction; since
no actual thing is ‘objectified’ in its ‘formal’ completeness.
26Abstraction expresses nature’s mode of
interaction and is not merely mental. When it
abstracts, thought is merely conforming to nature—or
rather, it is exhibiting itself as an element in
nature. Synthesis and analysis require each other.
Such a conception is paradoxical if you will persist
in thinking of the actual world as a collection
of passive actual substances with their private
characters or qualities. In that case, it must be
nonsense to ask, how one such substance can form
a component in the make-up of another such substance.
So long as this conception is retained, the
difficulty is not relieved by calling each actual substance
an event, or a pattern, or an occasion. The
difficulty, which arises for such a conception, is to
explain how the substances can be actually together
in a sense derivative from that in which
each individual substance is actual. But the conception
of the world here adopted is that of functional
activity. By this I mean that every actual
thing is something by reason of its activity;
whereby its nature consists in its relevance to other
things, and its individuality consists in its synthesis
of other things so far as they are relevant to it.
In enquiring about any one individual we must
ask how other individuals enter ‘objectively’ into
27the unity of its own experience. This unity of its
own experience is that individual existing formally.
We must also enquire how it enters into
the ‘formal’ existence of other things; and this
entrance is that individual existing objectively,
that is to say—existing abstractly, exemplifying
only some elements in its formal content.
With this conception of the world, in speaking
of any actual individual, such as a human being,
we must mean that man in one occasion of his experience.
Such an occasion, or act, is complex and
therefore capable of analysis into phases and
other components. It is the most concrete actual
entity, and the life of man from birth to death is
a historic route of such occasions. These concrete
moments are bound together into one society
by a partial identity of form, and by the peculiarly
full summation of its predecessors which each moment
of the life-history gathers into itself. The
man-at-one-moment concentrates in himself the
colour of his own past, and he is the issue of it.
The ‘man in his whole life history’ is an abstraction
compared to the ‘man in one such moment.’
There are therefore three different meanings for
the notion of a particular man,—Julius Cæsar, for
example. The word ‘Cæsar’ may mean ‘Cæsar in
28some one occasion of his existence’: this is the
most concrete of all the meanings. The word
‘Cæsar’ may mean ‘the historic route of Cæsar’s
life from his Cæsarian birth to his Cæsarian assassination.’
The word ‘Cæsar’ may mean ‘the
common form, or pattern, repeated in each occasion
of Cæsar’s life.’ You may legitimately choose
any one of these meanings; but when you have
made your choice, you must in that context stick
to it.
This doctrine of the nature of the life-history
of an enduring organism holds for all types
of organisms, which have attained to unity of experience,
for electrons as well as for men. But
mankind has gained a richness of experiential content
denied to electrons. Whenever the ‘all or
none’ principle holds, we are in some way dealing
with one actual entity, and not with a society of
such entities, nor with the analysis of components
contributory to one such entity.
This lecture has maintained the doctrine of a
direct experience of an external world. It is impossible
fully to argue this thesis without getting
too far away from my topic. I need only refer
you to the first portion of Santayana’s recent book,
Scepticism and Animal Faith, for a conclusive
29proof of the futile ‘solipsism of the present moment’—or,
in other words, utter scepticism—which
results from a denial of this assumption.
My second thesis, for which I cannot claim Santayana’s
authority, is that, if you consistently
maintain such direct individual experience, you will
be driven in your philosophical construction to a
conception of the world as an interplay of functional
activity whereby each concrete individual
thing arises from its determinate relativity to the
settled world of other concrete individuals, at
least so far as the world is past and settled.
CHAPTER II — 1. Hume on Causal Efficacy. — 2. Kant and Causal Efficacy. — 3. Direct Perception of Causal Efficacy. — 4. Primitiveness of Causal Efficacy. — 5. The Intersection of the Modes of Perception. — 6. Localization. — 7. The Contrast Between Accurate Definition and Importance. — 8. Conclusion.
30
It is the thesis of this work that human symbolism
has its origin in the symbolic interplay between
two distinct modes of direct perception of
the external world. There are, in this way, two
sources of information about the external world,
closely connected but distinct. These modes do
not repeat each other; and there is a real diversity
of information. Where one is vague, the other is
precise: where one is important, the other is
trivial. But the two schemes of presentation have
structural elements in common, which identify
them as schemes of presentation of the same
world. There are however gaps in the determination
of the correspondence between the two
morphologies. The schemes only partially intersect,
and their true fusion is left indeterminate.
The symbolic reference leads to a transference of
emotion, purpose, and belief, which cannot be
justified by an intellectual comparison of the direct
information derived from the two schemes
31and their elements of intersection. The justification,
such as it is, must be sought in a pragmatic
appeal to the future. In this way intellectual criticism
founded on subsequent experience can enlarge
and purify the primitive naïve symbolic
transference.
I have termed one perceptive mode ‘Presentational
Immediacy,’ and the other mode ‘Causal
Efficacy.’ In the previous lecture the mode of
presentational immediacy was discussed at length.
The present lecture must commence with the discussion
of ‘Causal Efficacy.’ It will be evident to
you that I am here controverting the most cherished
tradition of modern philosophy, shared
alike by the school of empiricists which derives
from Hume, and the school of transcendental
idealists which derives from Kant. It is unnecessary
to enter upon any prolonged justification of
this summary account of the tradition of modern
philosophy. But some quotations will summarize
neatly what is shared in common by the two types
of thought from which I am diverging. Hume[1]
writes:—“When both the objects are present to
the senses along with the relation, we call this
perception rather than reasoning; nor is there in
32this case any exercise of the thought, or any action,
properly speaking, but a mere passive admission of
the impressions through the organs of sensation.
According to this way of thinking, we ought not to
receive as reasoning any of the observations we
may make concerning identity and the relation of
time and place; since in none of them can the mind
go beyond what is immediately present to the
senses, either to discover the real existence or the
relations of objects.”
The whole force of this passage depends upon
the tacit presupposition of the ‘mind’ as a passively
receptive substance and of its ‘impression’
as forming its private world of accidents. There
then remains nothing except the immediacy of
these private attributes with their private relations
which are also attributes of the mind. Hume
explicitly repudiates this substantial view of mind.
But then, what is the force of the last clause of
the last sentence, “since ... objects?” The
only reason for dismissing ‘impressions’ from having
any demonstrative force in respect to ‘the real
existence or the relations of objects,’ is the implicit
notion that such impressions are mere private
attributes of the mind. Santayana’s book,
Scepticism and Animal Faith, to which I have already
33referred, is in its earlier chapters a vigorous
and thorough insistence, by every manner of beautiful
illustration, that with Hume’s premises there
is no manner of escape from this dismissal of identity,
time, and place from having any reference
to a real world. There remains only what Santayana
calls ‘Solipsism of the Present Moment.’
Even memory goes: for a memory-impression is
not an impression of memory. It is only another
immediate private impression.
It is unnecessary to cite Hume on Causation; for
the preceding quotation carries with it his whole
sceptical position. But a quotation[2] on substance
is necessary to explain the ground of his explicit—as
distinct from sporadic implicit presuppositions—doctrine
on this point:—“I would fain ask those
philosophers, who found so much of their reasonings
on the distinction of substance and accident,
and imagine we have clear ideas of each, whether
the idea of substance be derived from the impressions
of sensation or reflection? If it be conveyed
to us by our senses, I ask, which of them, and after
what manner? If it be perceived by the eyes, it
must be a colour; if by the ears, a sound; if by
the palate, a taste; and so of the other senses. But
34I believe none will assert that substance is either
a colour, or sound, or a taste. The idea of substance
must, therefore, be derived from an impression
of reflection, if it really exist. But the
impressions of reflection resolve themselves into
our passions and emotions; none of which can possibly
represent a substance. We have, therefore,
no idea of substance, distinct from that of a collection
of particular qualities, nor have we any
other meaning when we either talk or reason concerning
it.”
This passage is concerned with a notion of
‘substance,’ which I do not entertain. Thus it
only indirectly controverts my position. I quote it
because it is the plainest example of Hume’s initial
assumptions that (i) presentational immediacy,
and relations between presentationally immediate
entities, constitute the only type of perceptive experience,
and that (ii) presentational immediacy
includes no demonstrative factors disclosing a contemporary
world of extended actual things.
He discusses this question later in his ‘Treatise’
under the heading of the notion of ‘Bodies’; and
arrives at analogous sceptical conclusions. These
conclusions rest upon an extraordinary naïve assumption
of time as pure succession. The assumption
35is naïve, because it is the natural thing to say;
it is natural because it leaves out that characteristic
of time which is so intimately interwoven that
it is natural to omit it.
Time is known to us as the succession of our
acts of experience, and thence derivatively as the
succession of events objectively perceived in those
acts. But this succession is not pure succession:
it is the derivation of state from state, with the
later state exhibiting conformity to the antecedent.
Time in the concrete is the conformation of state
to state, the later to the earlier; and the pure succession
is an abstraction from the irreversible relationship
of settled past to derivative present.
The notion of pure succession is analogous to the
notion of colour. There is no mere colour, but always
some particular colour such as red or blue:
analogously there is no pure succession, but always
some particular relational ground in respect to
which the terms succeed each other. The integers
succeed each other in one way, and events succeed
each other in another way; and, when we abstract
from these ways of succession, we find that pure
succession is an abstraction of the second order, a
generic abstraction omitting the temporal character
of time and the numerical relation of integers.
36The past consists of the community of settled acts
which, through their objectifications in the present
act, establish the conditions to which that act
must conform.
Aristotle conceived ‘matter’—ὑλγ—as being
pure potentiality awaiting the incoming of form in
order to become actual. Hence employing Aristotelian
notions, we may say that the limitation of
pure potentiality, established by ‘objectifications’
of the settled past, expresses that ‘natural potentiality’—or,
potentiality in nature—which is ‘matter’
with that basis of initial, realized form presupposed
as the first phase in the self-creation of
the present occasion. The notion of ‘pure potentiality’
here takes the place of Aristotle’s ‘matter,’
and ‘natural potentiality’ is ‘matter’ with that
given imposition of form from which each actual
thing arises. All components which are given for
experience are to be found in the analysis of natural
potentiality. Thus the immediate present has
to conform to what the past is for it, and the
mere lapse of time is an abstraction from the more
concrete relatedness of ‘conformation.’ The ‘substantial’
character of actual things is not primarily
concerned with the predication of qualities. It
expresses the stubborn fact that whatever is settled
37and actual must in due measure be conformed
to by the self-creative activity. The phrase ‘stubborn
fact’ exactly expresses the popular apprehension
of this characteristic. Its primary phase,
from which each actual thing arises, is the stubborn
fact which underlies its existence. According
to Hume there are no stubborn facts. Hume’s
doctrine may be good philosophy, but it is certainly
not common sense. In other words, it fails
before the final test of obvious verification.
The school of transcendental idealists, derived
from Kant, admit that causal efficacy is a factor in
the phenomenal world; but hold that it does not
belong to the sheer data presupposed in perception.
It belongs to our ways of thought about the
data. Our consciousness of the perceived world
yields us an objective system, which is a fusion of
mere data and modes of thought about those data.
The general Kantian reason for this position is
that direct perception acquaints us with particular
fact. Now particular fact is what simply occurs as
particular datum. But we believe universal principles
about all particular facts. Such universal
knowledge cannot be derived from any selection
38of particular facts, each of which has just simply
occurred. Thus our ineradicable belief is only
explicable by reason of the doctrine that particular
facts, as consciously apprehended, are the fusion
of mere particular data with thought functioning
according to categories which import
their own universality in the modified data. Thus
the phenomenal world, as in consciousness, is a
complex of coherent judgments, framed according
to fixed categories of thought, and with a content
constituted by given data organized according to
fixed forms of intuition.
This Kantian doctrine accepts Hume’s naïve
presupposition of ‘simple occurrence’ for the mere
data. I have elsewhere called it the assumption of
‘simple location,’ by way of applying it to space as
well as to time.
I directly deny this doctrine of ‘simple occurrence.’
There is nothing which ‘simply happens.’
Such a belief is the baseless doctrine of time as
‘pure succession.’ The alternative doctrine, that
the pure succession of time is merely an abstract
from the fundamental relationship of conformation,
sweeps away the whole basis for the intervention
of constitutive thought, or constitutive intuition,
in the formation of the directly apprehended
39world. Universality of truth arises from
the universality of relativity, whereby every particular
actual thing lays upon the universe the obligation
of conforming to it. Thus in the analysis
of particular fact universal truths are discoverable,
those truths expressing this obligation. The
given-ness of experience—that is to say, all its
data alike, whether general truths or particular
sensa or presupposed forms of synthesis—expresses
the specific character of the temporal relation
of that act of experience to the settled actuality
of the universe which is the source of all conditions.
The fallacy of ‘misplaced concreteness’
abstracts from time this specific character, and
leaves time with the mere generic character of
pure succession.
The followers of Hume and the followers of
Kant have thus their diverse, but allied, objections
to the notion of any direct perception of causal
efficacy, in the sense in which direct perception is
antecedent to thought about it. Both schools find
‘causal efficacy’ to be the importation, into the
data, of a way of thinking or judging about those
data. One school calls it a habit of thought; the
40other school calls it a category of thought. Also
for them the mere data are the pure sense-data.
If either Hume or Kant gives a proper account
of the status of causal efficacy, we should find that
our conscious apprehension of causal efficacy
should depend to some extent on the vividness of
the thought or of the pure intuitive discrimination
of sense-data at the moment in question. For
an apprehension which is the product of thought
should sink in importance when thought is in the
background. Also, according to this Humian-Kantian
account, the thought in question is
thought about the immediate sense-data. Accordingly
a certain vividness of sense-data in immediate
presentation should be favourable to apprehension
of causal efficacy. For according to these
accounts, causal efficacy is nothing else than a way
of thinking about sense-data, given in presentational
immediacy. Thus the inhibition of thought
and the vagueness of sense-data should be extremely
unfavourable to the prominence of causal
efficacy as an element in experience.
The logical difficulties attending the direct perception
of causal efficacy have been shown to depend
on the sheer assumption that time is merely
the generic notion of pure succession. This is an
41instance of the fallacy of ‘misplaced concreteness.’
Thus the way is now open to enquire empirically
whether in fact our apprehension of causal efficacy
does depend either on the vividness of sense-data
or on the activity of thought.
According to both schools, the importance of
causal efficacy, and of action exemplifying its presupposition,
should be mainly characteristic of
high-grade organisms in their best moments. Now
if we confine attention to long-range identification
of cause and effect, depending on complex reasoning,
undoubtedly such high-grade mentality and
such precise determination of sense-data are required.
But each step in such reasoning depends
on the primary presupposition of the immediate
present moment conforming itself to the settled
environment of the immediate past. We must not
direct attention to the inferences from yesterday
to today, or even from five minutes ago to the immediate
present. We must consider the immediate
present in its relationship to the immediate
past. The overwhelming conformation of fact, in
present action, to antecedent settled fact is to be
found here.
My point is that this conformation of present
fact to immediate past is more prominent both in
42apparent behaviour and in consciousness, when the
organism is low grade. A flower turns to the light
with much greater certainty than does a human being,
and a stone conforms to the conditions set by
its external environment with much greater certainty
than does a flower. A dog anticipates the
conformation of the immediate future to his present
activity with the same certainty as a human being.
When it comes to calculations and remote
inferences, the dog fails. But the dog never acts
as though the immediate future were irrelevant to
the present. Irresolution in action arises from
consciousness of a somewhat distant relevant future,
combined with inability to evaluate its precise
type. If we were not conscious of relevance,
why is there irresolution in a sudden crisis?
Again a vivid enjoyment of immediate sense-data
notoriously inhibits apprehension of the relevance
of the future. The present moment is then
all in all. In our consciousness it approximates to
‘simple occurrence.’
Certain emotions, such as anger and terror, are
apt to inhibit the apprehension of sense-data; but
they wholly depend upon a vivid apprehension of
the relevance of immediate past to the present, and
of the present to the future. Again an inhibition
43of familiar sense-data provokes the terrifying
sense of vague presences, effective for good or evil
over our fate. Most living creatures, of daytime
habits, are more nervous in the dark, in the absence
of the familiar visual sense-data. But according
to Hume, it is the very familiarity of the
sense-data which is required for causal inference.
Thus the sense of unseen effective presences in the
dark is the opposite of what should happen.
The perception of conformation to realities in
the environment is the primitive element in our
external experience. We conform to our bodily
organs and to the vague world which lies beyond
them. Our primitive perception is that of ‘conformation’
vaguely, and of the yet vaguer relata
‘oneself’ and ‘another’ in the undiscriminated background.
Of course if relationships are unperceivable,
such a doctrine must be ruled out on theoretic
grounds. But if we admit such perception, then
the perception of conformation has every mark of
a primitive element. One part of our experience
is handy, and definite in our consciousness; also it
is easy to reproduce at will. The other type of
experience, however insistent, is vague, haunting,
unmanageable. The former type, for all its decorative
44sense-experience, is barren. It displays a
world concealed under an adventitious show, a
show of our own bodily production. The latter
type is heavy with the contact of the things gone
by, which lay their grip on our immediate selves.
This latter type, the mode of causal efficacy, is the
experience dominating the primitive living organisms,
which have a sense for the fate from which
they have emerged, and for the fate towards
which they go—the organisms which advance and
retreat but hardly differentiate any immediate display.
It is a heavy, primitive experience. The
former type, the presentational immediacy, is the
superficial product of complexity, of subtlety; it
halts at the present, and indulges in a manageable
self-enjoyment derived from the immediacy of
the show of things. Those periods in our lives—when
the perception of the pressure from a world
of things with characters in their own right, characters
mysteriously moulding our own natures, become
strongest—those periods are the product of
a reversion to some primitive state. Such a reversion
occurs when either some primitive functioning
of the human organism is unusually heightened,
or some considerable part of our habitual
sense-perception is unusually enfeebled.
45Anger, hatred, fear, terror, attraction, love,
hunger, eagerness, massive enjoyment, are feelings
and emotions closely entwined with the primitive
functioning of ‘retreat from’ and of ‘expansion
towards.’ They arise in the higher organism as
states due to a vivid apprehension that some such
primitive mode of functioning is dominating the
organism. But ‘retreat from’ and ‘expansion
towards,’ divested of any detailed spatial discrimination,
are merely reactions to the way externality
is impressing on us its own character.
You cannot retreat from mere subjectivity; for
subjectivity is what we carry with us. Normally,
we have almost negligible sense-presentations of
the interior organs of our own bodies.
These primitive emotions are accompanied by
the clearest recognition of other actual things reacting
upon ourselves. The vulgar obviousness of
such recognition is equal to the vulgar obviousness
produced by the functioning of any one of our five
senses. When we hate, it is a man that we hate
and not a collection of sense-data—a causal, efficacious
man. This primitive obviousness of the
perception of ‘conformation’ is illustrated by the
emphasis on the pragmatic aspect of occurrences,
which is so prominent in modern philosophical
46thought. There can be no useful aspect of anything
unless we admit the principle of conformation,
whereby what is already made becomes a determinant
of what is in the making. The obviousness
of the pragmatic aspect is simply the obviousness
of the perception of the fact of conformation.
In practice we never doubt the fact of the conformation
of the present to the immediate past.
It belongs to the ultimate texture of experience,
with the same evidence as does presentational immediacy.
The present fact is luminously the outcome
from its predecessors, one quarter of a
second ago. Unsuspected factors may have intervened;
dynamite may have exploded. But, however
that may be, the present event issues subject
to the limitations laid upon it by the actual nature
of the immediate past. If dynamite explodes, then
present fact is that issue from the past which is
consistent with dynamite exploding. Further, we
unhesitatingly argue backwards to the inference,
that the complete analysis of the past must disclose
in it those factors which provide the conditions
for the present. If dynamite be now exploding,
then in the immediate past there was a
charge of dynamite unexploded.
The fact that our consciousness is confined to
47an analysis of experience in the present is no difficulty.
For the theory of the universal relativity
of actual individual things leads to the distinction
between the present moment of experience, which
is the sole datum for conscious analysis, and perception
of the contemporary world, which is the
only one factor in this datum.
The contrast between the comparative emptiness
of Presentational Immediacy and the deep
significance disclosed by Causal Efficacy is at the
root of the pathos which haunts the world.
‘Pereunt et imputantur’
is the inscription on old sundials in ‘religious’
houses:
‘The hours perish and are laid to account.’
Here ‘Pereunt’ refers to the world disclosed in
immediate presentation, gay with a thousand tints,
passing, and intrinsically meaningless. ‘Imputantur’
refers to the world disclosed in its causal efficacy,
where each event infects the ages to come,
for good or for evil, with its own individuality.
Almost all pathos includes a reference to lapse of
time.
The final stanza of Keats’ Eve of St. Agnes
commences with the haunting lines:—
48‘And they are gone: ay, ages long ago
Those lovers fled away into the storm.’
There the pathos of the lapse of time arises from
the imagined fusion of the two perceptive modes
by one intensity of emotion. Shakespeare, in the
springtime of the modern world, fuses the two
elements by exhibiting the infectiousness of gay
immediacy:—
‘... daffodils,
That come before the swallow dares, and take
The winds of March with beauty; ...’
(The Winter’s Tale, IV, iv, 118-120.)
But sometimes men are overstrained by their undivided
attention to the causal elements in the nature
of things. Then in some tired moment there
comes a sudden relaxation, and the mere presentational
side of the world overwhelms with the
sense of its emptiness. As William Pitt, the Prime
Minister of England through the darkest period
of the French Revolutionary wars, lay on his
death-bed at England’s worst moment in that
struggle, he was heard to murmur,
‘What shades we are, what shadows we pursue!’
His mind had suddenly lost the sense of causal efficacy,
and was illuminated by the remembrance of
49the intensity of emotion, which had enveloped his
life, in its comparison with the barren emptiness of
the world passing in sense-presentation.
The world, given in sense-presentation, is not
the aboriginal experience of the lower organisms,
later to be sophisticated by the inference to causal
efficacy. The contrary is the case. First the
causal side of experience is dominating, then the
sense-presentation gains in subtlety. Their mutual
symbolic reference is finally purged by consciousness
and the critical reason with the aid of
a pragmatic appeal to consequences.
There cannot be symbolic reference between
percepts derived from one mode and percepts
from the other mode, unless in some way these
percepts intersect. By this ‘intersection’ I mean
that a pair of such percepts must have elements of
structure in common, whereby they are marked
out for the action of symbolic reference.
There are two elements of common structure,
which can be shared in common by a percept derived
from presentational immediacy and by another
derived from causal efficacy. These elements
are (1) sense-data, and (2) locality.
50The sense-data are ‘given’ for presentational
immediacy. This given-ness of the sense-data, as
the basis of this perceptive mode, is the great doctrine
common to Hume and Kant. But what is
already given for experience can only be derived
from that natural potentiality which shapes a particular
experience in the guise of causal efficacy.
Causal efficacy is the hand of the settled past in
the formation of the present. The sense-data
must therefore play a double rôle in perception.
In the mode of presentational immediacy they are
projected to exhibit the contemporary world in its
spatial relations. In the mode of causal efficacy
they exhibit the almost instantaneously precedent
bodily organs as imposing their characters on the
experience in question. We see the picture, and
we see it with our eyes; we touch the wood, and we
touch it with our hands; we smell the rose, and
we smell it with our nose; we hear the bell, and we
hear it with our ears; we taste the sugar, and
we taste it with our palate. In the case of bodily
feelings the two locations are identical. The foot
is both giving pain and is the seat of the pain.
Hume himself tacitly asserts this double reference
in the second of the quotations previously made.
He writes: “If it be perceived by the eyes, it must
51be a colour; if by the ears, a sound; if by the palate,
a taste; and so of the other senses.” Thus
in asserting the lack of perception of causality, he
implicitly presupposes it. For what is the meaning
of ‘by’ in ‘by the eyes,’ ‘by the ears,’ ‘by the palate’?
His argument presupposes that sense-data,
functioning in presentational immediacy, are
‘given’ by reason of ‘eyes,’ ‘ears,’ ‘palates’ functioning
in causal efficacy. Otherwise his argument
is involved in a vicious regress. For it must begin
again over eyes, ears, palates; also it must explain
the meaning of ‘by’ and ‘must’ in a sense
which does not destroy his argument.
This double reference is the basis of the whole
physiological doctrine of perception. The details
of this doctrine are, in this discussion, philosophically
irrelevant. Hume with the clarity of genius
states the fundamental point, that sense-data functioning
in an act of experience demonstrate that
they are given by the causal efficacy of actual
bodily organs. He refers to this causal efficacy as
a component in direct perception. Hume’s argument
first tacitly presupposes the two modes of
perception, and then tacitly assumes that presentational
immediacy is the only mode. Also Hume’s
followers in developing his doctrine presuppose
52that presentational immediacy is primitive, and
that causal efficacy is the sophisticated derivative.
This is a complete inversion of the evidence. So
far as Hume’s own teaching is concerned, there is,
of course, another alternative: it is that Hume’s
disciples have misinterpreted Hume’s final position.
On this hypothesis, his final appeal to ‘practice’
is an appeal against the adequacy of the then
current metaphysical categories as interpretive of
obvious experience. This theory about Hume’s
own beliefs is in my opinion improbable: but,
apart from Hume’s own estimate of his philosophical
achievement, it is in this sense that we
must reverence him as one of the greatest of
philosophers.
The conclusion of this argument is that the intervention
of any sense-datum in the actual world
cannot be expressed in any simple way, such as
mere qualification of a region of space, or alternatively
as the mere qualification of a state of
mind. The sense-data, required for immediate
sense-perception, enter into experience in virtue of
the efficacy of the environment. This environment
includes the bodily organs. For example, in the
case of hearing sound the physical waves have
entered the ears, and the agitations of the nerves
53have excited the brain. The sound is then heard
as coming from a certain region in the external
world. Thus perception in the mode of causal
efficacy discloses that the data in the mode of
sense-perception are provided by it. This is the
reason why there are such given elements. Every
such datum constitutes a link between the two perceptive
modes. Each such link, or datum, has a
complex ingression into experience, requiring a reference
to the two perceptive modes. These sense-data
can be conceived as constituting the character
of a many-termed relationship between the organisms
of the past environment and those of the
contemporary world.
The partial community of structure, whereby
the two perceptive modes yield immediate demonstration
of a common world, arises from their
reference of sense-data, common to both, to localizations,
diverse or identical, in a spatio-temporal
system common to both. For example, colour
is referred to an external space and to the eyes
as organs of vision. In so far as we are dealing
with one or other of these pure perceptive modes,
such reference is direct demonstration; and, as isolated
54in conscious analysis, is ultimate fact against
which there is no appeal. Such isolation, or at
least some approach to it, is fairly easy in the case
of presentational immediacy, but is very difficult in
the case of causal efficacy. Complete ideal purity
of perceptive experience, devoid of any symbolic
reference, is in practice unobtainable for either
perceptive mode.
Our judgments on causal efficacy are almost inextricably
warped by the acceptance of the symbolic
reference between the two modes as the completion
of our direct knowledge. This acceptance
is not merely in thought, but also in action, emotion,
and purpose, all precedent to thought. This
symbolic reference is a datum for thought in its
analysis of experience. By trusting this datum,
our conceptual scheme of the universe is in general
logically coherent with itself, and is correspondent
to the ultimate facts of the pure perceptive
modes. But occasionally, either the coherence
or the verification fails. We then revise
our conceptual scheme so as to preserve the general
trust in the symbolic reference, while relegating
definite details of that reference to the category
of errors. Such errors are termed ‘delusive
55appearances.’ This error arises from the extreme
vagueness of the spatial and temporal perspectives
in the case of perception in the pure mode of
causal efficacy. There is no adequate definition of
localization, so far as what emerges into analytic
consciousness. The principle of relativity leads us
to hold that, with adequate conscious analysis,
such local relationships leave their faint impress in
experience. But in general such detailed analysis
is far beyond the capacity of human consciousness.
So far as concerns the causal efficacy of the
world external to the human body, there is the
most insistent perception of a circumambient efficacious
world of beings. But exact discrimination
of thing from thing, and of position from
position, is extremely vague, almost negligible.
The definite discrimination, which in fact we do
make, arises almost wholly by reason of symbolic
reference from presentational immediacy. The
case is different in respect to the human body.
There is still vagueness in comparison with the
accurate definition of immediate presentation; although
the locality of various bodily organs which
are efficacious in the regulation of the sense-data,
and of the feelings, are fairly well-defined in the
56pure perceptive mode of causal efficacy. The symbolic
transference of course intensifies the definition.
But, apart from such transference, there is
some adequacy of definite demarcation.
Thus in the intersection of the two modes, the
spatial and temporal relationships of the human
body, as causally apprehended, to the external contemporary
world, as immediately presented, afford
a fairly definite scheme of spatial and temporal
reference whereby we test the symbolic use of
sense-projection for the determination of the positions
of bodies controlling the course of nature.
Ultimately all observation, scientific or popular,
consists in the determination of the spatial relation
of the bodily organs of the observer to the
location of ‘projected’ sense-data.
The reason why the projected sense-data are in
general used as symbol, is that they are handy,
definite, and manageable. We can see, or not see,
as we like: we can hear, or not hear. There are
limits to this handiness of the sense-data: but they
are emphatically the manageable elements in our
perceptions of the world. The sense of controlling
57presences has the contrary character: it is unmanageable,
vague, and ill-defined.
But for all their vagueness, for all their lack of
definition, these controlling presences, these
sources of power, these things with an inner life,
with their own richness of content, these beings,
with the destiny of the world hidden in their natures,
are what we want to know about. As we
cross a road busy with traffic, we see the colour
of the cars, their shapes, the gay colours of their
occupants; but at the moment we are absorbed in
using this immediate show as a symbol for the
forces determining the immediate future.
We enjoy the symbol, but we also penetrate to
the meaning. The symbols do not create their
meaning: the meaning, in the form of actual effective
beings reacting upon us, exists for us in its
own right. But the symbols discover this meaning
for us. They discover it because, in the long
course of adaptation of living organisms to their
environment, nature[3] taught their use. It developed
us so that our projected sensations indicate
in general those regions which are the seat of important
organisms.
58Our relationships to these bodies are precisely
our reactions to them. The projection of our sensations
is nothing else than the illustration of the
world in partial accordance with the systematic
scheme, in space and in time, to which these reactions
conform.
The bonds of causal efficacy arise from without
us. They disclose the character of the world from
which we issue, an inescapable condition round
which we shape ourselves. The bonds of presentational
immediacy arise from within us, and
are subject to intensifications and inhibitions and
diversions according as we accept their challenge
or reject it. The sense-data are not properly to be
termed ‘mere impressions’—except so far as any
technical term will do. They also represent the
conditions arising out of the active perceptive functioning
as conditioned by our own natures. But
our natures must conform to the causal efficacy.
Thus the causal efficacy from the past is at least
one factor giving our presentational immediacy in
the present. The how of our present experience
must conform to the what of the past in us.
Our experience arises out of the past: it enriches
with emotion and purpose its presentation
of the contemporary world: and it bequeaths its
59character to the future, in the guise of an effective
element forever adding to, or subtracting from,
the richness of the world. For good or for evil,
‘Pereunt et Imputantur.’
In this chapter, and in the former chapter, the
general character of symbolism has been discussed.
It plays a dominant part in the way in which all
higher organisms conduct their lives. It is the
cause of progress, and the cause of error. The
higher animals have gained a faculty of great
power, by means of which they can define with
some accuracy those distant features in the immediate
world by which their future lives are to
be determined. But this faculty is not infallible;
and the risks are commensurate with its importance.
It is the purpose of the next chapter to
illustrate this doctrine by an analysis of the part
played by this habit of symbolism in promoting
the cohesion, the progress, and the dissolution of
human societies.
CHAPTER III — Uses of Symbolism
60
The attitude of mankind towards symbolism
exhibits an unstable mixture of attraction and repulsion.
The practical intelligence, the theoretical
desire to pierce to ultimate fact, and ironic
critical impulses have contributed the chief motives
towards the repulsion from symbolism.
Hard-headed men want facts and not symbols. A
clear theoretic intellect, with its generous enthusiasm
for the exact truth at all costs and hazards,
pushes aside symbols as being mere make-believes,
veiling and distorting that inner sanctuary of
simple truth which reason claims as its own. The
ironic critics of the follies of humanity have performed
notable service in clearing away the lumber
of useless ceremony symbolizing the degrading
fancies of a savage past. The repulsion from
symbolism stands out as a well-marked element in
the cultural history of civilized people. There
can be no reasonable doubt but that this continuous
61criticism has performed a necessary service
in the promotion of a wholesome civilization,
both on the side of the practical efficiency of organized
society, and on the side of a robust direction
of thought.
No account of the uses of symbolism is complete
without this recognition that the symbolic
elements in life have a tendency to run wild, like
the vegetation in a tropical forest. The life of
humanity can easily be overwhelmed by its symbolic
accessories. A continuous process of pruning,
and of adaptation to a future ever requiring
new forms of expression, is a necessary function
in every society. The successful adaptation of
old symbols to changes of social structure is the
final mark of wisdom in sociological statesmanship.
Also an occasional revolution in symbolism
is required.
There is, however, a Latin proverb upon which,
in our youth, some of us have been set to write
themes. In English it reads thus:—Nature, expelled
with a pitchfork, ever returns. This proverb
is exemplified by the history of symbolism.
However you may endeavour to expel it, it ever
returns. Symbolism is no mere idle fancy or corrupt
degeneration: it is inherent in the very texture
62of human life. Language itself is a symbolism.
And, as another example, however you
reduce the functions of your government to their
utmost simplicity, yet symbolism remains. It may
be a healthier, manlier ceremonial, suggesting
finer notions. But still it is symbolism. You
abolish the etiquette of a royal court, with its
suggestion of personal subordination, but at official
receptions you ceremonially shake the hand of
the Governor of your State. Just as the feudal
doctrine of a subordination of classes, reaching
up to the ultimate overlord, requires its symbolism;
so does the doctrine of human equality obtain
its symbolism. Mankind, it seems, has to find a
symbol in order to express itself. Indeed ‘expression’
is ‘symbolism.’
When the public ceremonial of the State has
been reduced to the barest simplicity, private
clubs and associations at once commence to reconstitute
symbolic actions. It seems as though
mankind must always be masquerading. This
imperative impulse suggests that the notion of an
idle masquerade is the wrong way of thought
about the symbolic elements in life. The function
of these elements is to be definite, manageable,
reproducible, and also to be charged with
63their own emotional efficacity: symbolic transference
invests their correlative meanings with some
or all of these attributes of the symbols, and
thereby lifts the meanings into an intensity of
definite effectiveness—as elements in knowledge,
emotion, and purpose,—an effectiveness which
the meanings may, or may not, deserve on their
own account. The object of symbolism is the enhancement
of the importance of what is symbolized.
In a discussion of instances of symbolism, our
first difficulty is to discover exactly what is being
symbolized. The symbols are specific enough, but
it is often extremely difficult to analyse what lies
beyond them, even though there is evidently some
strong appeal beyond the mere ceremonial acts.
It seems probable that in any ceremonial which
has lasted through many epochs, the symbolic interpretation,
so far as we can obtain it, varies
much more rapidly than does the actual ceremonial.
Also in its flux a symbol will have different
meanings for different people. At any
epoch some people have the dominant mentality
of the past, some of the present, others of the
future, and others of the many problematic futures
which will never dawn. For these various
64groups an old symbolism will have different
shades of vague meaning.
In order to appreciate the necessary function
of symbolism in the life of any society of human
beings we must form some estimate of the binding
and disruptive forces at work. There are
many varieties of human society, each requiring
its own particular investigation so far as details
are concerned. We will fix attention on nations,
occupying definite countries. Thus geographical
unity is at once presupposed. Communities with
geographical unity constitute the primary type of
communities which we find in the world. Indeed
the lower we go in the scale of being, the more
necessary is geographical unity for that close interaction
of individuals which constitutes society.
Societies of the higher animals, of insects, of
molecules, all possess geographical unity. A rock
is nothing else than a society of molecules, indulging
in every species of activity open to molecules.
I draw attention to this lowly form of society in
order to dispel the notion that social life is a peculiarity
of the higher organisms. The contrary
is the case. So far as survival value is concerned,
a piece of rock, with its past history of some eight
hundred millions of years, far outstrips the short
65span attained by any nation. The emergence of
life is better conceived as a bid for freedom on
the part of organisms, a bid for a certain independence
of individuality with self-interests and
activities not to be construed purely in terms of
environmental obligations. The immediate effect
of this emergence of sensitive individuality
has been to reduce the term of life for societies
from hundreds of millions of years to hundreds
of years, or even to scores of years.
The emergence of living beings cannot be ascribed
to the superior survival value either of the
individuals, or of their societies. National life
has to face the disruptive elements introduced by
these extreme claims for individual idiosyncrasies.
We require both the advantages of social preservation,
and the contrary stimulus of the heterogeneity
derived from freedom. The society is to
run smoothly amidst the divergencies of its individuals.
There is a revolt from the mere causal
obligations laid upon individuals by the social
character of the environment. This revolt first
takes the form of blind emotional impulse; and
later, in civilized societies, these impulses are criticized
and deflected by reason. In any case, there
are individual springs of action which escape from
66the obligations of social conformity. In order to
replace this decay of secure instinctive response,
various intricate forms of symbolic expression of
the various purposes of social life have been introduced.
The response to the symbol is almost
automatic but not quite; the reference to the
meaning is there, either for additional emotional
support, or for criticism. But the reference is not
so clear as to be imperative. The imperative instinctive
conformation to the influence of the environment
has been modified. Something has replaced
it, which by its superficial character invites
criticism, and by its habitual use generally escapes
it. Such symbolism makes connected thought possible
by expressing it, while at the same time it
automatically directs action. In the place of the
force of instinct which suppresses individuality,
society has gained the efficacy of symbols, at once
preservative of the commonweal and of the individual
standpoint.
Among the particular kinds of symbolism which
serve this purpose, we must place first Language.
I do not mean language in its function of a bare
indication of abstract ideas, or of particular actual
things, but language clothed with its complete
influence for the nation in question. In addition
67to its bare indication of meaning, words
and phrases carry with them an enveloping suggestiveness
and an emotional efficacy. This function
of language depends on the way it has been
used, on the proportionate familiarity of particular
phrases, and on the emotional history associated
with their meanings and thence derivatively
transferred to the phrases themselves. If two
nations speak the same language, this emotional
efficacy of words and phrases will in general differ
for the two. What is familiar for one nation
will be strange for the other nation; what is
charged with intimate associations for the one is
comparatively empty for the other. For example,
if the two nations are somewhat widely sundered,
with a different fauna and flora, the nature-poetry
of one nation will lack its complete directness of
appeal to the other nation—compare Walt Whitman’s
phrase,
‘The wide unconscious scenery of my land’
for an American, with Shakespeare’s
‘... this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,’
for an Englishman. Of course anyone, American
or English, with the slightest sense for history
and kinship, or with the slightest sympathetic
68imagination, can penetrate to the feelings conveyed
by both phrases. But the direct first-hand
intuition, derived from earliest childhood memories,
is for the one nation that of continental
width, and for the other nation that of the little
island world. Now the love of the sheer geographical
aspects of one’s country, of its hills, its
mountains, and its plains, of its trees, its flowers,
its birds, and its whole nature-life, is no small
element in that binding force which makes a nation.
It is the function of language, working
through literature and through the habitual
phrases of early life, to foster this diffused feeling
of the common possession of a treasure infinitely
precious.
I must not be misunderstood to mean that this
example has any unique importance. It is only
one example of what can be illustrated in a hundred
ways. Also language is not the only symbolism
effective for this purpose. But in an especial
manner, language binds a nation together by
the common emotions which it elicits, and is yet
the instrument whereby freedom of thought and
of individual criticism finds its expression.
My main thesis is that a social system is kept
together by the blind force of instinctive actions,
69and of instinctive emotions clustered around habits
and prejudices. It is therefore not true that
any advance in the scale of culture inevitably tends
to the preservation of society. On the whole, the
contrary is more often the case, and any survey
of nature confirms this conclusion. A new element
in life renders in many ways the operation of the
old instincts unsuitable. But unexpressed instincts
are unanalysed and blindly felt. Disruptive
forces, introduced by a higher level of existence,
are then warring in the dark against an
invisible enemy. There is no foothold for the
intervention of ‘rational consideration’—to use
Henry Osborn Taylor’s admirable phrase. The
symbolic expression of instinctive forces drags
them out into the open: it differentiates them and
delineates them. There is then opportunity for
reason to effect, with comparative speed, what
otherwise must be left to the slow operation of
the centuries amid ruin and reconstruction. Mankind
misses its opportunities, and its failures are
a fair target for ironic criticism. But the fact
that reason too often fails does not give fair
ground for the hysterical conclusion that it never
succeeds. Reason can be compared to the force
of gravitation, the weakest of all natural forces,
70but in the end the creator of suns and of stellar
systems:—those great societies of the Universe.
Symbolic expression first preserves society by adding
emotion to instinct, and secondly it affords a
foothold for reason by its delineation of the particular
instinct which it expresses. This doctrine
of the disruptive tendency due to novelties, even
those involving a rise to finer levels, is illustrated
by the effect of Christianity on the stability of the
Roman Empire. It is also illustrated by the three
revolutions which secured liberty and equality for
the world—namely the English revolutionary period
of the seventeenth century, the American
Revolution, and the French Revolution. England
barely escaped a disruption of its social system;
America was never in any such danger; France,
where the entrance of novelty was most intense,
did for a time experience this collapse. Edmund
Burke, the Whig statesman of the eighteenth century,
was the philosopher who was the approving
prophet of the two earlier revolutions, and the
denunciatory prophet of the French Revolution.
A man of genius and a statesman, who has immediately
observed two revolutions, and has meditated
deeply on a third, deserves to be heard
when he speaks on the forces which bind and
71disrupt societies. Unfortunately statesmen are
swayed by the passions of the moment, and Burke
shared this defect to the full, so as to be carried
away by the reactionary passions aroused by the
French Revolution. Thus the wisdom of his general
conception of social forces is smothered by
the wild unbalanced conclusions which he drew
from them: his greatness is best shown by his
attitude towards the American Revolution. His
more general reflections are contained first, in his
youthful work A Vindication of Natural Society,
and secondly, in his Reflections on the French
Revolution. The earlier work was meant ironically;
but, as is often the case with genius, he
prophesied unknowingly. This essay is practically
written round the thesis that advances in the
art of civilization are apt to be destructive of the
social system. Burke conceived this conclusion
to be a reductio ad absurdum. But it is the truth.
The second work—a work which in its immediate
effect was perhaps the most harmful ever written—directs
attention to the importance of ‘prejudice’
as a binding social force. There again I
hold that he was right in his premises and wrong
in his conclusions.
Burke surveys the standing miracle of the existence
72of an organised society, culminating in
the smooth unified action of the state. Such a
society may consist of millions of individuals, each
with its individual character, its individual aims,
and its individual selfishness. He asks what is
the force which leads this throng of separate
units to coöperate in the maintenance of an organised
state, in which each individual has his
part to play—political, economic, and Æsthetic.
He contrasts the complexity of the functionings of
a civilised society with the sheer diversities of its
individual citizens considered as a mere group or
crowd. His answer to the riddle is that the magnetic
force is ‘prejudice,’ or in other words, ‘use
and wont.’ Here he anticipates the whole modern
theory of ‘herd psychology,’ and at the same
time deserts the fundamental doctrine of the
Whig party, as formed in the seventeenth century
and sanctioned by Locke. This conventional
Whig doctrine was that the state derived its origin
from an ‘original contract’ whereby the mere
crowd voluntarily organised itself into a society.
Such a doctrine seeks the origin of the state in a
baseless historical fiction. Burke was well ahead
of his time in drawing attention to the importance
of precedence as a political force. Unfortunately,
73in the excitement of the moment, Burke
construed the importance of precedence as implying
the negation of progressive reform.
Now, when we examine how a society bends its
individual members to function in conformity
with its needs, we discover that one important operative
agency is our vast system of inherited
symbolism. There is an intricate expressed symbolism
of language and of act, which is spread
throughout the community, and which evokes
fluctuating apprehension of the basis of common
purposes. The particular direction of individual
action is directly correlated to the particular
sharply defined symbols presented to him at the
moment. The response of action to symbol may
be so direct as to cut out any effective reference
to the ultimate thing symbolized. This elimination
of meaning is termed reflex action. Sometimes
there does intervene some effective reference
to the meaning of the symbol. But this
meaning is not recalled with the particularity and
definiteness which would yield any rational enlightenment
as to the specific action required to secure
the final end. The meaning is vague but insistent.
Its insistence plays the part of hypnotizing the
individual to complete the specific action associated
74with the symbol. In the whole transaction,
the elements which are clear-cut and definite are
the specific symbols and the actions which should
issue from the symbols. But in themselves the
symbols are barren facts whose direct associative
force would be insufficient to procure automatic
conformity. There is not sufficient repetition, or
sufficient similarity of diverse occasions, to secure
mere automatic obedience. But in fact the symbol
evokes loyalties to vaguely conceived notions,
fundamental for our spiritual natures. The result
is that our natures are stirred to suspend all antagonistic
impulses, so that the symbol procures
its required response in action. Thus the social
symbolism has a double meaning. It means pragmatically
the direction of individuals to specific
actions; and it also means theoretically the vague
ultimate reasons with their emotional accompaniments,
whereby the symbols acquire their power
to organize the miscellaneous crowd into a
smoothly running community.
The contrast between a state and an army
illustrates this principle. A state deals with a
greater complexity of situation than does its army.
In this sense it is a looser organization, and in
regard to the greater part of its population the
75communal symbolism cannot rely for its effectiveness
on the frequent recurrence of almost identical
situations. But a disciplined regiment is trained
to act as a unit in a definite set of situations. The
bulk of human life escapes from the reach of this
military discipline. The regiment is drilled for
one species of job. The result is that there is
more reliance on automatism, and less reliance
on the appeal to ultimate reasons. The trained
soldier acts automatically on receiving the word
of command. He responds to the sound and cuts
out the idea; this is reflex action. But the appeal
to the deeper side is still important in an army;
although it is provided for in another set of symbols,
such as the flag, and the memorials of the
honourable service of the regiment, and other
symbolic appeals to patriotism. Thus in an army
there is one set of symbols to produce automatic
obedience in a limited set of circumstances, and
there is another set of symbols to produce a general
sense of the importance of the duties performed.
This second set prevents random reflection
from sapping automatic response to the
former set.
For the greater number of citizens of a state
there is in practice no reliable automatic obedience
76to any symbol such as the word of command
for soldiers, except in a few instances such as the
response to the signals of the traffic police. Thus
the state depends in a very particular way upon
the prevalence of symbols which combine direction
to some well-known course of action with
some deeper reference to the purpose of the state.
The self-organisation of society depends on commonly
diffused symbols evoking commonly diffused
ideas, and at the same time indicating commonly
understood actions. Usual forms of verbal
expression are the most important example of
such symbolism. Also the heroic aspect of the
history of the country is the symbol for its immediate
worth.
When a revolution has sufficiently destroyed
this common symbolism leading to common actions
for usual purposes, society can only save itself
from dissolution by means of a reign of
terror. Those revolutions which escape a reign
of terror have left intact the fundamental efficient
symbolism of society. For example, the English
revolutions of the seventeenth century and the
American revolution of the eighteenth century
left the ordinary life of their respective communities
nearly unchanged. When George Washington
77had replaced George III, and Congress had
replaced the English Parliament, Americans were
still carrying on a well-understood system so far
as the general structure of their social life was
concerned. Life in Virginia must have assumed
no very different aspect from that which it had
exhibited before the revolution. In Burke’s
phraseology, the prejudices on which Virginian
society depended were unbroken. The ordinary
signs still beckoned people to their ordinary actions,
and suggested the ordinary common-sense
justification.
One difficulty of explaining my meaning is that
the intimate effective symbolism consists of the
various types of expression which permeate society
and evoke a sense of common purpose. No
one detail is of much importance. The whole
range of symbolic expression is required. A national
hero, such as George Washington or Jefferson,
is a symbol of the common purpose which
animates American life. This symbolic function
of great men is one of the difficulties in obtaining
a balanced historical judgment. There is the
hysteria of depreciation, and there is the opposite
hysteria which dehumanises in order to exalt.
It is very difficult to exhibit the greatness without
78losing the human being. Yet we know that at
least we are human beings; and half the inspiration
of our heroes is lost when we forget that
they were human beings.
I mention great Americans, because I am speaking
in America. But exactly the same truth holds
for the great men of all countries and ages.
The doctrine of symbolism developed in these
lectures enables us to distinguish between pure instinctive
action, reflex action, and symbolically
conditioned action. Pure instinctive action is
that functioning of an organism which is wholly
analysable in terms of those conditions laid upon
its development by the settled facts of its external
environment, conditions describable without any
reference to its perceptive mode of presentational
immediacy. This pure instinct is the response of
an organism to pure causal efficacy.
According to this definition, pure instinct is the
most primitive type of response which is yielded
by organisms to the stimulus of their environment.
All physical response on the part of inorganic
matter to its environment is thus properly to be
termed instinct. In the case of organic matter,
its primary difference from inorganic nature is
its greater delicacy of internal mutual adjustment
79of minute parts and, in some cases, its emotional
enhancement. Thus instinct, or this immediate
adjustment to immediate environment, becomes
more prominent in its function of directing action
for the purposes of the living organism. The
world is a community of organisms; these organisms
in the mass determine the environmental influence
on any one of them; there can only be a
persistent community of persistent organisms
when the environmental influence in the shape of
instinct is favourable to the survival of the individuals.
Thus the community as an environment
is responsible for the survival of the separate individuals
which compose it; and these separate
individuals are responsible for their contributions
to the environment. Electrons and molecules survive
because they satisfy this primary law for a
stable order of nature in connection with given
societies of organisms.
Reflex action is a relapse towards a more complex
type of instinct on the part of organisms
which enjoy, or have enjoyed, symbolically conditioned
action. Thus its discussion must be postponed.
Symbolically conditioned action arises in
the higher organisms which enjoy the perceptive
mode of presentational immediacy, that is to say,
80sense-presentation of the contemporary world.
This sense-presentation symbolically promotes an
analysis of the massive perception of causal efficacy.
The causal efficacy is thereby perceived as
analysed into components with the locations in
space primarily belonging to the sense-presentations.
In the case of perceived organisms external
to the human body, the spatial discrimination involved
in the human perception of their pure
causal efficacy is so feeble, that practically there
is no check on this symbolic transference, apart
from the indirect check of pragmatic consequences,—in
other words, either survival-value, or self-satisfaction,
logical and Æsthetic.
Symbolically conditioned action is action which
is thus conditioned by the analysis of the perceptive
mode of causal efficacy effected by symbolic
transference from the perceptive mode of presentational
immediacy. This analysis may be right
or wrong, according as it does, or does not, conform
to the actual distribution of the efficacious
bodies. In so far as it is sufficiently correct under
normal circumstances, it enables an organism to
conform its actions to long-ranged analysis of the
particular circumstances of its environment. So
far as this type of action prevails, pure instinct is
81superseded. This type of action is greatly promoted
by thought, which uses the symbols as referent
to their meanings. There is no sense in
which pure instinct can be wrong. But symbolically
conditioned action can be wrong, in the sense
that it may arise from a false symbolic analysis
of causal efficacy.
Reflex action is that organic functioning which
is wholly dependent on sense-presentation, unaccompanied
by any analysis of causal efficacy via
symbolic reference. The conscious analysis of
perception is primarily concerned with the analysis
of the symbolic relationship between the two
perceptive modes. Thus reflex action is hindered
by thought, which inevitably promotes the prominence
of symbolic reference.
Reflex action arises when by the operation of
symbolism the organism has acquired the habit of
action in response to immediate sense-perception,
and has discarded the symbolic enhancement of
causal efficacy. It thus represents the relapse
from the high-grade activity of symbolic reference.
This relapse is practically inevitable in the
absence of conscious attention. Reflex action cannot
in any sense be said to be wrong, though it
may be unfortunate.
82Thus the important binding factor in a community
of insects probably falls under the notion
of pure instinct, as here defined. For each individual
insect is probably such an organism that the
causal conditions which it inherits from the immediate
past are adequate to determine its social
actions. But reflex action plays its subordinate
part. For the sense-perceptions of the insects
have in certain fields of action assumed an automatic
determination of the insects’ activities.
Still more feebly, symbolically conditioned action
intervenes for such situations when the sense-presentation
provides a symbolically defined specification
of the causal situation. But only active
thought can save symbolically conditioned action
from quickly relapsing into reflex action. The
most successful examples of community life exist
when pure instinct reigns supreme. These examples
occur only in the inorganic world; among
societies of active molecules forming rocks, planets,
solar systems, star clusters.
The more developed type of living communities
requires the successful emergence of sense-perception
to delineate successfully causal efficacy in the
external environment; and it also requires its relapse
into a reflex suitable to the community. We
83thus obtain the more flexible communities of low-grade
minds, or even living cells, which possess
some power of adaptation to the chance details
of remote environment.
Finally mankind also uses a more artificial
symbolism, obtained chiefly by concentrating on a
certain selection of sense-perceptions, such as
words for example. In this case, there is a chain
of derivations of symbol from symbol whereby
finally the local relations, between the final symbol
and the ultimate meaning, are entirely lost.
Thus these derivative symbols, obtained as it were
by arbitrary association, are really the results of
reflex action suppressing the intermediate portions
of the chain. We may use the word ‘association’
when there is this suppression of intermediate
links.
This derivative symbolism, employed by mankind,
is not in general mere indication of meaning,
in which every common feature shared by symbol
and meaning has been lost. In every effective
symbolism there are certain Æsthetic features
shared in common. The meaning acquires emotion
and feeling directly excited by the symbol.
This is the whole basis of the art of literature,
namely that emotions and feelings directly excited
84by the words should fitly intensify our emotions
and feelings arising from contemplation of
the meaning. Further in language there is a
certain vagueness of symbolism. A word has a
symbolic association with its own history, its
other meanings, and with its general status in
current literature. Thus a word gathers emotional
signification from its emotional history in
the past; and this is transferred symbolically to
its meaning in present use.
The same principle holds for all the more artificial
sorts of human symbolism:—for example,
in religious art. Music is particularly adapted for
this symbolic transfer of emotions, by reason of
the strong emotions which it generates on its own
account. These strong emotions at once overpower
any sense that its own local relations are
of any importance. The only importance of the
local arrangement of an orchestra is to enable us
to hear the music. We do not listen to the music
in order to gain a just appreciation of how the
orchestra is situated. When we hear the hoot of
a motor car, exactly the converse situation arises.
Our only interest in the hoot is to determine a
definite locality as the seat of causal efficacy determining
the future.
85This consideration of the symbolic transference
of emotion raises another question. In the case
of sense-perception, we may ask whether the Æsthetic
emotion associated with it is derivative
from it or merely concurrent with it. For example,
the sound waves by their causal efficacy
may produce in the body a state of pleasurable
Æsthetic emotion, which is then symbolically
transferred to the sense-perception of the sounds.
In the case of music, having regard to the fact
that deaf people do not enjoy music, it seems that
the emotion is almost entirely the product of the
musical sounds. But the human body is causally
affected by the ultra-violet rays of the solar spectrum
in ways which do not issue in any sensation
of colour. Nevertheless such rays produce a decided
emotional effect. Also even sounds, just below
or just above the limit of audibility, seem to
add an emotional tinge to a volume of audible
sound. This whole question of the symbolic
transfer of emotion lies at the base of any theory
of the Æsthetics of art. For example, it gives the
reason for the importance of a rigid suppression
of irrelevant detail. For emotions inhibit each
other, or intensify each other. Harmonious emotion
means a complex of emotions mutually intensifying;
86whereas the irrelevant details supply
emotions which, because of their irrelevance, inhibit
the main effect. Each little emotion directly
arising out of some subordinate detail refuses to
accept its status as a detached fact in our consciousness.
It insists on its symbolic transfer to
the unity of the main effect.
Thus symbolism, including the symbolic transference
by which it is effected, is merely one exemplification
of the fact that a unity of experience
arises out of the confluence of many components.
This unity of experience is complex, so as to be
capable of analysis. The components of experience
are not a structureless collection indiscriminately
brought together. Each component by its
very nature stands in a certain potential scheme
of relationships to the other components. It is
the transformation of this potentiality into real
unity which constitutes that actual concrete fact
which is an act of experience. But in transformation
from potentiality to actual fact inhibitions,
intensifications, directions of attention toward, directions
of attention away from, emotional outcomes,
purposes, and other elements of experience
may arise. Such elements are also true components
of the act of experience; but they are not
87necessarily determined by the primitive phases of
experience from which the final product arises.
An act of experience is what a complex organism
comes to, in its character of being one thing. Also
its various parts, its molecules, and its living cells,
as they pass on to new occasions of their existence,
take a new colour from the fact that in their immediate
past they have been contributory elements
to this dominant unity of experience, which in its
turn reacts upon them.
Thus mankind by means of its elaborate system
of symbolic transference can achieve miracles
of sensitiveness to a distant environment, and to
a problematic future. But it pays the penalty, by
reason of the dangerous fact that each symbolic
transference may involve an arbitrary imputation
of unsuitable characters. It is not true, that the
mere workings of nature in any particular organism
are in all respects favorable either to the existence
of that organism, or to its happiness, or
to the progress of the society in which the organism
finds itself. The melancholy experience
of men makes this warning a platitude. No elaborate
community of elaborate organisms could
exist unless its systems of symbolism were in general
successful. Codes, rules of behaviour, canons
88of art, are attempts to impose systematic action
which on the whole will promote favourable symbolic
interconnections. As a community changes,
all such rules and canons require revision in the
light of reason. The object to be obtained has
two aspects; one is the subordination of the community
to the individuals composing it, and the
other is the subordination of the individuals to
the community. Free men obey the rules which they
themselves have made. Such rules will be found
in general to impose on society behaviour in reference
to a symbolism which is taken to refer to the
ultimate purposes for which the society exists.
It is the first step in sociological wisdom, to
recognize that the major advances in civilization
are processes which all but wreck the societies in
which they occur:—like unto an arrow in the
hand of a child. The art of free society consists
first in the maintenance of the symbolic code; and
secondly in fearlessness of revision, to secure that
the code serves those purposes which satisfy an
enlightened reason. Those societies which cannot
combine reverence to their symbols with freedom
of revision, must ultimately decay either
from anarchy, or from the slow atrophy of a life
stifled by useless shadows.