The conception of a "positive" philosophy--that is, a philosophy which confines itself to positive facts, and which is "agnostic" in the sense that it does not profess to know what it knows it does not know--is borrowed from science. It is an attempt to carry the methods of science into the domain of philosophy, to subst.i.tute science for philosophy. The attempt is made under the impression that science does not profess to know what it knows it does not know, _i.e._ makes no a.s.sumptions and takes nothing on faith. That impression, however, is, as we have argued in the last chapter but one, a false impression: the Uniformity of Nature is a pure--and rational--a.s.sumption. If, therefore, a philosophy confined itself strictly within the bounds of science, it would not be strictly positive or agnostic: it would still make some a.s.sumptions, even if only those made by science, and would still, even if it confined itself to the positive facts of science, be taking something on faith. A sound philosophy is one, not that makes no a.s.sumptions, but which seeks to find out what a.s.sumptions are made by any department of knowledge or practice--science, art, evolution, morality, religion--and how far those a.s.sumptions will carry us. The bane of philosophy is not making a.s.sumptions--all thought does--but is thinking you have made none.

Common sense a.s.sumes that the testimony of consciousness, so far as it can be verified by consciousness, can be trusted as evidence of the reality of that which is presented to it. Positive or agnostic philosophies, whether of the optimistic or the pessimistic type, on the principle of making no a.s.sumptions, reject this one, either on the ground that the Real is Unknowable (which is itself an a.s.sumption as incapable of proof or disproof as the a.s.sumption that the Real is Knowable) or on the ground that we only know our states of consciousness, and cannot know whether there is or is not any reality beyond them (which again is simply an a.s.sumption that consciousness as evidence of a reality beyond itself is not to be trusted).

Now, granted that common sense makes an a.s.sumption here, as it a.s.suredly does, it is one such as can only be rejected by making a counter-a.s.sumption: to refuse to trust consciousness as evidence of a reality beyond itself is to make the a.s.sumption that it is not trustworthy--which may or may not be true, but is just as much an a.s.sumption as the supposition of its trustworthiness is. The positive and agnostic philosophies, therefore, do not succeed in avoiding a.s.sumptions in this matter: they only tacitly add another to that which they have already unconsciously made by a.s.suming that Nature is uniform.

If, now, they adhered to these a.s.sumptions, we might proceed to ask what conclusions they deduced from them. We should not, indeed, expect their conclusions to be the same as those reached by persons starting from the opposite hypothesis, viz. that consciousness is trustworthy. And we should not agree that they were superior to those reached by the common sense and drawn from the common faith of mankind. We should only admit that they were different, because drawn from different premises. The argument that the teaching of a philosophy which makes no a.s.sumptions must be superior to one that does, is an argument which, whatever its value, we should have to set aside in this case, on the ground that the agnostic philosophies are not so ignorant as they modestly profess to be: they do know something--they know that Nature is uniform, and that consciousness as evidence of reality is not to be trusted--or they a.s.sume they know.

But the positive philosophies do not adhere to their a.s.sumptions. Few philosophers do. The optimistic evolutionist takes back his remark about the untrustworthiness of consciousness, so far as material things are concerned: matter and motion at any rate are real, and consciousness is good evidence, as good as can be got, of their reality. The pessimistic evolutionist also repents him, as far as our moral convictions are concerned: they are fundamentally real; our consciousness of the moral ideal is our best evidence for it.

On the other hand, both the optimistic and the pessimistic evolutionist adhere with perfect consistency to their rejection of the evidence given by consciousness to the freedom of the will. But here, too, the a.s.sumption of common sense cannot be rejected without a counter-a.s.sumption: if it is a pure a.s.sumption to say that things could have happened otherwise than they did, it is equally mere a.s.sumption to say they could not.

Finally, there is one other a.s.sumption made by the common faith of mankind and rejected by positive philosophies. It is that the world, _i.e._ everything of which man's consciousness is aware and to the reality of which his consciousness is evidence, is the expression of self-determining will, human and superhuman, manifesting itself directly to his consciousness. This a.s.sumption, too, has its counter-a.s.sumption--that there is no self-determining will, human or superhuman--and to reject the one a.s.sumption is to accept the other.

To say that you do not know whether a man's word may be trusted or not is literally agnosticism, and may be the only rational att.i.tude to a.s.sume, _e.g._ if the man is an absolute stranger, as most witnesses in court are to the judge who tries the case. But on the ground of your ignorance to refuse to pay any attention to his evidence when given is to abandon your agnosticism--if a judge directs the jury to disregard the evidence of the witness, the presumption is that he a.s.sumes it to be false. So, too, if we disregard the evidence of consciousness on this or any other point, we do not thereby succeed in avoiding a.s.sumptions, we only a.s.sume that consciousness is not trustworthy.[37]

The idea that in philosophy it is possible permanently to maintain an agnostic att.i.tude with regard to the trustworthiness of consciousness is the outcome of a conscientious attempt to apply scientific methods to the solution of philosophic problems. Science does not find it necessary to a.s.sume either that there is or that there is not a G.o.d: on either a.s.sumption it is certain that bodies tend towards each other at the rates specified in the gravitation-formula. Philosophy must be made scientific. Therefore philosophy must carefully avoid making either a.s.sumption. Why, the very reason why science has progressed and philosophy never moves is that science builds only on demonstrated fact, philosophy only on undemonstrable a.s.sumptions. Proof, and therefore truth, is impossible if you start from a.s.sumptions which never can be proved to be either true or untrue.

The truth is that it is possible to maintain the agnostic att.i.tude, and to avoid making a.s.sumptions, just so long as we do not need to form an opinion or take action on the matter which the a.s.sumption affects.

If my interests, practical or speculative, are not affected by a certain trial now proceeding in the law courts, I can avoid making any a.s.sumption as to the trustworthiness or untrustworthiness of a witness's evidence. I do not know whether he is trustworthy or not, and I can refuse to make any a.s.sumption whatever on the subject--there is no reason why I should. But the moment circ.u.mstances call on me to form an opinion, I find myself beginning to make one a.s.sumption or the other, or perhaps at first one and then the other, though I am just as ignorant whether he really is trustworthy or not as I was when I refused to make any a.s.sumptions; I know no more about his previous career or his antecedent credibility than I did before he entered the box.

So, too, the truth is not that science makes no a.s.sumptions, but that she makes no a.s.sumptions except those which are necessary for her purposes. The man of science a.s.sumes--and it is pure a.s.sumption--that he can trust the evidence of his consciousness as to the reality of the chemicals he experiments on, the plants he cla.s.sifies, or the stars he observes. He a.s.sumes that they are real. He also a.s.sumes without proof that what has produced a certain effect once will produce it again in the same circ.u.mstances, that if a thing has occurred the conditions essential to its occurrence must also have occurred--in fine, that Nature is uniform. But so long as he is engaged exclusively in scientific work, in finding out what actually does happen or has happened in Nature, he need make no a.s.sumptions as to whether a certain witness is trustworthy or not, or whether there is a G.o.d or not: he can maintain a perfectly agnostic att.i.tude on both questions. He can say, if he chooses, "G.o.d or no G.o.d, two and two make four"; or, to put it more precisely, whether the evidence which consciousness gives in spiritual experience to the reality of a G.o.d can or cannot be trusted, I do trust the evidence which consciousness gives in sense-experience to the reality of material things; whether the a.s.sumption that every event is the expression of self-determining will is true or not, at any rate I believe in the a.s.sumption that Nature is uniform.

And if man had nothing to do but investigate the actual course of Nature, and had nothing else to form an opinion about except whether this phenomenon is followed by that, it would be possible permanently to avoid making any a.s.sumptions save those required by science. But man has (let us suppose) to know, not only what does happen, but what ought to happen, and to decide what shall happen. The ordinary man, in making those forecasts of the future which he must make for the ordinary business of daily life, a.s.sumes, quite unconsciously, that Nature is uniform and that material things are real. In deciding what he ought to do and what he will do, he a.s.sumes, without knowing that he is making any a.s.sumptions at all, that his moral ideals are real, that his will is free to choose this course or that, and that the G.o.d with whom he communes in his heart is real.

Let us now take the question raised by agnosticism as to these a.s.sumptions, which const.i.tute a large part of the common faith of mankind. The question is not whether these a.s.sumptions are right: the agnostic declines to discuss that question; he does not know whether they are right or wrong, he has no means of deciding, they are too high for him. The question is whether the agnostic himself succeeds in making, as well as endeavouring to make, no a.s.sumptions on these points.

We have already argued he fails: he succeeds, not in making no a.s.sumptions, but only in making the counter-a.s.sumptions to those a.s.sumed by common sense.

This, let us hasten to add, does not at all amount to saying that his counter-a.s.sumptions are wrong: it only amounts to saying that he cannot form a resolution to steal or not to steal, to lie or not to lie, without (consciously or unconsciously) making some a.s.sumption as to the reality of the moral ideal.

But there is little need of argument to show that agnostic philosophy fails to avoid making a.s.sumptions, _i.e._ fails in practice to be agnostic. Professor Huxley admitted that the Uniformity of Nature was an a.s.sumption; he a.s.sumed that our moral ideals were real; he took it for granted that the will was not free. We need only point out that the attempt to carry on philosophy and explain the universe on purely scientific principles breaks down: science makes no a.s.sumption about the reality of our moral and aesthetic ideals; philosophy, even an agnostic philosophy, finds it necessary to a.s.sume the reality of both. Even if philosophy could be made scientific, it would not get rid of unprovable a.s.sumptions: it would still be based upon those made by science. And the excellence of philosophy, or of any explanation of the universe, consists, not in agnosticism, not in making no a.s.sumptions, but in making the right ones.

Science, as we have said, makes no a.s.sumptions save those which are necessary for her purpose, which is to ascertain and describe what actually takes place in Nature. Conversely, it is vain to imagine that from those a.s.sumptions anything can be deduced except conclusions of the kind which they are framed to cover, viz.

conclusions as to what actually does take place. To say, therefore, that all knowledge--philosophy and religion--must become scientific before it can be regarded as trustworthy is simply to say that nothing can be regarded as true, except what is deduced from the a.s.sumptions of science: conclusions drawn from any other a.s.sumptions have no scientific truth. The a.s.sumptions of science are constructed only to lead to conclusions as to what is: we can therefore have no scientific, _i.e._ no real, knowledge of what ought to be. With the a.s.sumptions she makes, Science can only describe the way in which things happen; why they should so happen it is therefore impossible to know. The idea that all things are the expression of self-determining will is not one of the a.s.sumptions of science; no conclusions from it, therefore, can be considered valid.

Without staying to consider why the unproved and unprovable a.s.sumptions of science are so superior to all others as to be set up as the sole source of truth, the only fount of genuine knowledge, let us consider what sort of a picture of the universe they give us. Perhaps a simile will best help us.

Let us imagine a game of chess in course of being played by invisible players in presence of a scientific philosopher who knows nothing about the game--or who a.s.sumes that he knows nothing--except what his senses tell him.

What he sees will be simply material chess-men moving in s.p.a.ce. He may either consider them to be merely sense-phenomena, merely affections or modifications of his sense of sight and touch, or he may consider them to be real, material things. In either case he makes an a.s.sumption. The latter a.s.sumption leaves it quite an open question whether the reality is something insentient or is the expression of conscious will. The former precludes the question, _i.e._ a.s.sumes that there is neither conscious will nor insentient matter behind them.

But in neither a.s.sumption is there anything to prevent the philosopher in question from studying the movements of the chess-men and the way in which at every move or moment they are redistributed. At first their movements would probably be rather bewildering; but in course of time he would note, we may a.s.sume, that Black never moved unless White had previously moved, and that any movement of White was followed by one on the part of Black. He might therefore be tempted to lay it down as a rule that Black never moved unless White moved first--that an effect never occurred without a cause; and that a movement of White was always followed by a move on the part of Black--that a cause was always followed by its effect. But if he yielded to this temptation he would be making an a.s.sumption, for--inasmuch as he professes to know nothing to begin with--he does not _know_ that the pieces always will move in this way; he only knows (a.s.suming that memory is not a mere delusion, as it may be, for anything he knows) that they have moved thus, not that they always will move thus. He may, however, a.s.sume that they will continue to move in that way. But with every fresh a.s.sumption he becomes less and less of an agnostic. He may, indeed, if he likes, further a.s.sume, not only that the pieces will move in this way, but that they must. This a.s.sumption does not, indeed, seem necessary; for if we know (or a.s.sume that we know) that they will follow this course, it seems superfluous to say that they must.

It seems well, therefore, to try to see on what principle we are to make our a.s.sumptions. It is an ancient rule, and one followed by science, to make as few as possible--that is to say, the fewest that will suffice for the purpose in hand. If, therefore, the purpose of our study of the chess-board is merely to find out how and according to what rules the pieces actually do move, have moved, and will move, it seems sufficient to a.s.sume that they will move as they have done, not that they must.

If, on the other hand, we want to know why they move in the way that we a.s.sume them to move, then the a.s.sumption that they do so because they must is certainly in form legitimate, though it may or may not be the right one in fact.

Some people refuse to discuss such questions as "Why this universe?"

"What is the reason of this unintelligible world?" on the ground that they cannot be answered except by making a.s.sumptions which cannot be proved.

But is that really a good reason for refusing? If it is, then none of the questions which science exists to answer can be discussed, for they also can only be answered by a.s.suming, without proof or possibility of proof, that Nature is uniform, that the chess-men will continue to move as they have done.

Be this as it may, our philosopher, if he a.s.sumes that the course of Nature is not only uniform, but necessary, is making an a.s.sumption which is not required for the purposes of science, though it may be for his philosophy. It is, as we have said, quite legitimate for him to make the a.s.sumption for philosophical purposes, and to adhere to its logical consequences. But in the interests of clearness of thought it should be recognised that those consequences flow from it, and not from any of the a.s.sumptions necessary for the purposes of science. He will be able to show on this a.s.sumption that there is nothing in the history of the universe, or in the facts of science, to countenance the idea that the universe is the expression of self-determining will. We only wish to point out that this conclusion, even if true, is not an inference from the facts of science, but from the initial a.s.sumption that nothing which takes place in Nature is the result of free will.

To say, "Science does not find it necessary to a.s.sume the existence of self-determining will, neither therefore will I a.s.sume it," is true, but is only half the truth. Science does not find it necessary to a.s.sume the non-existence of self-determining will. But the philosopher who explains the facts of Nature on the hypothesis that they happen of necessity, does a.s.sume that self-determining will is non-existent. It is therefore quite natural that the history of the universe and the facts of science, interpreted in this way, should lend no countenance to the opposite theory.

The history of the universe may also be interpreted as a manifestation of the Divine will, the process of evolution as a progressive revelation; and if any be tempted to say with a sigh, "Ah! but it all requires us to believe that there is a G.o.d, to begin with," let them reflect that the other interpretation cannot even begin without the a.s.sumption that there is no G.o.d.

But to return to our chess-men. A closer study of the game would reveal--in addition to the invariable sequence of Black, White, Black--the fact that the various pieces had various properties and moved in various ways, some only one square at a time, some the whole length of the board; some diagonally, some parallel to the sides of the board.

Further, our philosopher would observe that each piece when it moved tended to move according to its own laws: in the absence of counteracting causes, _e.g._ unless some other piece blocked the way, a bishop tended to move diagonally the whole length of the board. As a man of science, he would state these observed uniformities in the hypothetical form rightly adopted by science: if a castle moves it tends to move in such and such a way. Thus eventually he would be able to foretell, whenever any piece began to move, what direction it tended, in the absence of counteracting causes, to take. He might not, indeed, be able to say beforehand which of White's pieces would move in reply to Black, but his knowledge of the game would eventually become so scientific that he would be prepared for most contingencies, _i.e._ be able to say approximately where any piece would move if it did move.

That knowledge could be attained without making any a.s.sumption as to whether free-will or necessity was the motive force expressed in the game; and it would be equally valid whichever of the two a.s.sumptions he chose to make. His science would have nothing to hope or fear from either a.s.sumption.

With regard to matter and motion, he would note that a piece might be removed and deposited by the side of the board, but was never destroyed, and he would infer that matter is indestructible and could never have been created. As for motion, the condition, the only invariable and necessary condition, of movement is previous movement, Black must move before White can: the only condition of change in the distribution of the pieces on the board would be some previous change. If the suggestion were made to him that possibly the real condition of all movement and every change was the purpose of an unseen agent, and that real knowledge was impossible without some idea of that purpose, he might as a man of science decline to accept the suggestion. The object of science is not to conjecture why things happen, or with what purpose, but to describe positively the way in which they actually do happen, or perhaps merely to describe the motions of material things in s.p.a.ce. It does not matter with what purpose a shot or a mine is fired, or even whether with any or none: the results are just the same, if it is fired in just the same way. Science neither a.s.sumes nor denies the existence of purpose, because neither the a.s.sumption nor its rejection would in the least help her to discover the things that she wants to know. But are the things she wants to know the only things worth knowing? Every man is ent.i.tled to answer that question for himself. Are they the only things that can be known? They are the only things that can be known--on her a.s.sumptions. Just as the world can only be explained scientifically on the a.s.sumptions of science, so it can only be interpreted morally or religiously on the a.s.sumptions made by religion and morality. The only end that could be subserved by a.s.suming a Divine purpose would be at most to enable us in some slight degree to argue what the purpose of some things might be--and that is of no interest or value to science.

She declines to look for a final cause: her business is with efficient and mechanical causes.

The suggestion, then, that the chess-men may be moved with a purpose is not rejected, but is set aside as useless for a scientific comprehension of the game. Invisible agents--and we are all invisible, though our bodies are not--moving the chess-men with a purpose, or cross-purposes, are hypotheses valueless for science, which aims only at positive facts, the laws according to which the pieces actually do move. By the aid of these laws our philosopher might succeed in reconstructing the past history of the game which he was watching. From the positions occupied by the pieces now he might infer the positions from which they came (or think he could), and so back, step by step, until he reached the order in which the pieces are arranged at the beginning of a game. When he reviewed the knowledge thus obtained he would see in the process of the game a certain evolution from the relatively simple movements of the p.a.w.ns which began the game to the highly complex movements of the queen.

Then, whatever the order in which the pieces happened to be brought out and their qualities developed in the particular game he was watching, he might argue on the theory of necessity that that was the only order in which those properties could have been evolved. On the principle that efficient and mechanical causes were sufficient to provide a scientific explanation of the game it would follow that the higher powers manifested by castles and queens, the latest pieces to come out into the game, were caused by the previous action and movements of the less highly developed p.a.w.ns--that life and consciousness are due to material causes. The idea that the movements of queens and p.a.w.ns alike were due to the will of an unseen agent acting with purpose is, as we have said, a suggestion quite valueless to science, because any conclusions it might lead to would not be scientific knowledge. If we a.s.sumed the existence of purpose, and even could conjecture dimly its nature, we still should have made no addition to those positive facts which are the only things that science is concerned to establish: it would be neither more nor less true than before that bishops move diagonally, p.a.w.ns one square at a time, gravitating bodies at the rate of sixteen feet in the first second, and so on. It would be neither more nor less true than before that p.a.w.ns actually were the first pieces to move in the game, that lifeless matter preceded the evolution of organisms. Above all, it would be neither more nor less true than before that the conclusions of science are the only conclusions that a rational man will accept.

FOOTNOTES:

[37] To say that my consciousness offers no such evidence is, if true, irrelevant. We are concerned with the consciousness of mankind generally. In astronomy the personal equation is allowed for; and in science generally the observations of one _savant_ are subject to confirmation or correction by others.

XI.

THE COMMON FAITH OF MANKIND

It is an article of the common faith of mankind that consciousness is good and trustworthy evidence of the reality of that of which we are conscious. It is also characteristic of that common faith to believe in the trustworthiness of the Power which manifests itself in that of which we are conscious. The man of science shares in the common faith of mankind up to a certain point: he accepts the testimony of consciousness to the reality of material things, and he believes that the Power which manifests itself in them can be trusted to behave when it is (in time or s.p.a.ce) beyond the range of his observation in exactly the same way as it does within. But to walk in the common faith further than this point is unscientific. It is rational to trust the evidence of consciousness when it testifies to the reality of material things, but not when it testifies to the reality of our moral ideals, or the freedom of the will or the reality of G.o.d. It is scientific to trust the Power which manifests itself in consciousness to behave with the same uniformity in the future as it has done in the past, and rational to formulate our science and stake our material interests on that uniformity. But it is not rational or scientific to trust that Power to will freely the good of all things, or to trust our lives to that will.

The reason of this sharp division between science and faith is the mistaken idea that science involves no faith and is a body of knowledge built up without any a.s.sumption. But even if we got the man of science to admit that science would be impossible if things were not real and Nature not uniform, it would still be open to him to say that he considered any other a.s.sumptions unnecessary; and there is a way in which he could prove them to be unnecessary. He might show that they were no a.s.sumptions at all, but logical consequences from established scientific facts. That was in effect the object aimed at, as far as our moral ideals are concerned, by the optimistic philosophy of evolution.

For the optimistic philosopher, then, who refuses to begin by taking the difference between right and wrong on faith, the problem is, granted the reality of material things and the uniformity of Nature, to show that the moral law is simply one particular case of the uniformity of Nature.

The means by which this demonstration is supposed to be effected is the law of the survival of the fittest. It is shown that the law of organic life is the survival of the fittest, and that survival is the consequence of adaptation to environment. These two laws are of course uniformities of Nature. It follows, then, that there must be a constant tendency on the part of the environment to secure better and better results in the way of organic life, for it only permits the survival of the fittest and the increasingly fittest. Man is an organism, and man's good therefore consists in his adapting himself to his environment. Thus the laws of morality are shown to be but one special case of a certain uniformity of Nature, viz. the law of adaptation to environment, which applies to all organisms and not merely to man's.

The argument, however, is in the first place circular: "fittest to survive" simply means "best adapted to the environment." Doubtless the best adapted to the environment are best adapted to the environment, but it does not in the least follow that they are therefore morally or aesthetically best. There is, therefore, no such constant tendency on the part of the environment to secure moral progress as is required by the Optimistic Evolutionist.

In the next place, on its own showing, the argument ends by proving that morality--what ought to be--is nothing more or less than what is. And though that is exactly what the optimist undertook to show--and exactly what is undertaken by every one who engages to show that faith is unnecessary in morality because the laws of morality can be deduced from the facts of science--still it may be doubted whether the conclusion "whatever is, is right" is exactly either a law of morality or a uniformity of Nature.

The question at issue between science and faith is, as we have said, not whether it is possible to gain trustworthy knowledge of the world without faith, without making a.s.sumptions, for science itself is built on faith in the reality of things and the uniformity of Nature, but whether the a.s.sumptions of science are the only a.s.sumptions that we need make. One way of proving that they need not be a.s.sumed would be to show that they can be proved by science. But that way failure lies, as is shown by the optimist's ill-success. But there is yet another way of cutting down the common faith of mankind to the narrower creed of science, and that is to show that the remaining articles of faith, the a.s.sumptions not necessary to science, are inconsistent with science.

That is the method adopted by the Pessimistic Evolutionist. He does, indeed, go further with the common faith than the optimist did.

Impressed by the failure of the optimist to exhibit the laws of morality as the mere outcome of the laws of Nature, and the reality of our moral ideals as derived from the reality of material things, he accepts the common faith of mankind in the law of morality as being just as rational as his and their faith in the uniformity of Nature. But having taken this one step, having adopted this additional article of faith on faith, he refuses to go any further. He accepts without evidence the a.s.sumption that there are certain things which we ought to do, just as he accepts without evidence the a.s.sumption that Nature is uniform. But he refuses to accept the a.s.sumption that will is free, because that is opposed to the evidence. He admits that we ought to choose certain things, but denies that we can choose them; and his forecast of the future is in accordance with the premises from which it is inferred. It is a pessimistic picture of man being steadily driven to do the things that he ought not, ending with the triumph of what must be over what ought to be, of physical necessity over the morally right.

The object of science is to discover what we ought to believe, to subst.i.tute reasoned knowledge for ignorant conjecture; and the fundamental faith of science is that we ought not to believe anything that is contrary to the uniformity of Nature. Nothing ought to shake our faith in that article of our creed: no amount of evidence will convince a really scientific man, a true believer in the faith, that any alleged violation of the uniformity of Nature can be real. No amount of evidence would be sufficient, for instance, to warrant the belief in miracles.

Either the alleged violation is only apparent, and will, with further knowledge, turn out to be a fresh instance of the truth that Nature is uniform; or else the evidence will prove on examination to be untrustworthy. To admit that any evidence could suffice for such a purpose would be to admit that the uniformity of Nature is not the fundamental reality in the world of science, or the ultimate base of our knowledge of what does actually take place in Nature.