Philosophical Studies · G. E. Moore
THE REFUTATION OF IDEALISM
It is, indeed, extremely unlikely that so essential a part of the historical meaning of 'analytic' and 'synthetic' should have been entirely discarded, especially since we find no express recognition that it is discarded. In that case it is fair to suppose that modern Idealists have been influenced by the view that certain truths can be proved by the law of contradiction alone. I admit they also expressly declare that they can _not:_ but this is by no means sufficient to prove that they do not also think they are; since it is very easy to hold two mutually contradictory opinions. What I suggest then is that Idealists hold the particular doctrine in question, concerning the relation of subject and object in experience, because they think it is an analytic truth in this restricted sense that it is proved by the law of contradiction alone.
(1) Experience _is_ something unique and different from anything else; (2) Experience of green is entirely indistinguishable from green; two propositions which cannot both be true. Idealists, holding both, can only take refuge in arguing from the one in some connexions and from the other in others. But I am well aware that there are many Idealists who would repel it as an utterly unfounded charge that they fail to distinguish between a sensation or idea and what I will call its object. And there are, I admit, many who not only imply, as we all do, that green is distinct from the sensation of green, but expressly insist upon the distinction as an important part of their system. They would perhaps only assert that the two form an inseparable unity. But I wish to point out that many, who use this phrase, and who do admit the distinction, are not thereby absolved from the charge that they deny it. For there is a certain doctrine, very prevalent among philosophers nowadays, which by a very simple reduction may be seen to assert that two distinct things both are and are not distinct. A distinction is asserted; but it is _also_ asserted that the things distinguished form an 'organic unity,' But, forming such a unity, it is held, each would not be what it is _apart from its relation to the other._ Hence to consider either by itself is to make an _illegitimate abstraction._ The recognition that there are 'organic unities' and 'illegitimate abstractions' in this sense is regarded as one of the chief conquests of modern philosophy.
But what is the sense attached to these terms? An abstraction is illegitimate, when and only when we attempt to assert of _a part_--of something abstracted--that which is true only of the _whole_ to which it belongs: and it may perhaps be useful to point out that this should not be done. But the application actually made of this principle, and what perhaps would be expressly acknowledged as its meaning, is something much the reverse of useful. The principle is used to assert that certain abstractions are _in all cases_ illegitimate; that whenever you try to assert _anything whatever_ of that which is _part_ of an organic whole, what you assert can only be true of the whole. And this principle, so far from being a useful truth, is necessarily false. For if the whole can, nay _must,_ be substituted for the part in all propositions and for all purposes, this can only be because the whole is absolutely identical with the part.
When, therefore, we are told that green and the sensation of green are certainly distinct but yet are not separable, or that it is an illegitimate abstraction to consider the one apart from the other, what these provisos are used to assert is, that though the two things are distinct yet you not only can but must treat them as if they were not. Many philosophers, therefore, when they admit a distinction, yet (following the lead of Hegel) boldly assert their right, in a slightly more obscure form of words, _also_ to deny it. The principle of organic unities, like that of combined analysis and synthesis, is mainly used to defend the practice of holding _both_ of two contradictory propositions, wherever this may seem convenient. In this, as in other matters, Hegel's main service to philosophy has consisted in giving a name to and erecting into a principle, a type of fallacy to which experience had shown philosophers, along with the rest of mankind, to be addicted. No wonder that he has followers and admirers.
I have shown then, so far, that when the Idealist asserts the important principle 'Esse is _percipi'_ he must, if it is to be true, mean by this that: Whatever is experienced also _must_ be experienced. And I have also shown that he _may_ identify with, or give as a reason for, this proposition, one which must be false, because it is self contradictory. But at this point I propose to make a complete break in my argument. '_Esse_ is _percipi_,' we have seen, asserts of two terms, as distinct from one another as 'green' and 'sweet,' that whatever has the one has also the other: it asserts that 'being' and 'being experienced' are necessarily connected: that whatever _is_ is _also_ experienced. And this, I admit, cannot be directly refuted. But I believe it to be false; and I have asserted that anybody who saw that '_esse_ and _percipi_' _were_ as distinct as 'green' and 'sweet' would be no more ready to believe that whatever _is_ is _also_ experienced, than to believe that whatever is green is also sweet. I have asserted that no one would believe that '_esse_ is _percipi_' if they saw how different _esse_ is from _percipi:_ but _this_ I shall not try to prove. I have asserted that all who do believe that '_esse_ is _percipi_' identify with it or take as a reason for it a self-contradictory proposition: but this I shall not try to prove. I shall only try to show that certain propositions which I assert to be believed, are false. That they are believed, and that without this belief '_esse_ is _percipi'_ would not be believed either, I must leave without a proof.
I pass, then, from the uninteresting question 'Is _'esse percipi?'_ to the still more uninteresting and apparently irrelevant question 'What is a sensation or idea?' We all know that the sensation of blue differs from that of green. But it is plain that if both are _sensations_ they also have some point in common. What is it that they have in common? And how is this common element related to the points in which they differ? I will call the common element 'consciousness' without yet attempting to say what the thing I so call _is._ We have then in every sensation two distinct terms, (1) 'consciousness,' in respect of which all sensations are alike; and (2) something else, in respect of which one sensation differs from another. It will be convenient if I may be allowed to call this second term the 'object' of a sensation: this also without yet attempting to say what I mean by the word. We have then in every sensation two distinct elements, one which I call consciousness, and another which I call the object of consciousness. This must be so if the sensation of blue and the sensation of green, though different in one respect, are alike in another: blue is one object of sensation and green is another, and consciousness, which both sensations have in common, is different from either.
But, further, sometimes the sensation of blue exists in my mind and sometimes it does not; and knowing, as we now do, that the sensation of blue includes two different elements, namely consciousness and blue, the question arises whether, when the sensation of blue exists, it is the consciousness which exists, or the blue which exists, or both. And one point at least is plain: namely that these three alternatives are all different from one another. So that, if any one tells us that to say 'Blue exists' is the _same_ thing as to say that 'Both blue and consciousness exist,' he makes a mistake and a self-contradictory mistake. But another point is also plain, namely, that when the sensation exists, the consciousness, at least, certainly does exist; for when I say that the sensations of blue and of green both exist, I certainly mean that what is common to both and in virtue of which both are called sensations, exists in each case. The only alternative left, then, is that _either_ both exist or the consciousness exists alone. If, therefore, any one tells us that the existence of blue is the same thing as the existence of the sensation of blue he makes a mistake and a self-contradictory mistake, for he asserts _either_ that blue is the same thing as blue together with consciousness, _or_ that it is the same thing as consciousness alone.
Accordingly to identify either "blue" or any other of what I have called "_objects_" of sensation, with the corresponding sensation is in every case, a self-contradictory error. It is to identify a part either with the whole of which it is a part or else with the other part of the same whole. If we are told that the assertion "Blue exists" is _meaningless_ unless we mean by it that "The sensation of blue exists," we are told what is certainly false and self-contradictory. If we are told that the existence of blue is inconceivable apart from the existence of the sensation, the speaker _probably_ means to convey to us, by this ambiguous expression, what is a self-contradictory error. For we can and must conceive the existence of blue as something quite distinct from the existence of the sensation. We can and must conceive that blue might exist and yet the sensation of blue not exist. For my own part I not only conceive this, but conceive it to be true. Either therefore this terrific assertion of inconceivability means what is false and self-contradictory or else it means only that _as a matter of fact_ blue never can exist unless the sensation of it exists also.
And at this point I need not conceal my opinion that no philosopher has ever yet succeeded in avoiding this self-contradictory error: that the most striking results both of Idealism and of Agnosticism are only obtained by identifying blue with the sensation of blue: that _esse_ is held to be _percipi,_ solely because _what is experienced_ is held to be identical with _the experience of it._ That Berkeley and Mill committed this error will, perhaps, be granted: that modern Idealists make it will, I hope, appear more probable later. But that my opinion is plausible, I will now offer two pieces of evidence. The first is that language offers us no means of referring to such objects as "blue" and "green" and "sweet," except by calling them sensations: it is an obvious violation of language to call them "things" or "objects" or "terms." And similarly we have no natural means of referring to such objects as "causality" or "likeness" or "identity," except by calling them "ideas" or "notions" or "conceptions." But it is hardly likely that if philosophers had clearly distinguished in the past between a sensation or idea and what I have called its object, there should have been no separate name for the latter.
They have always used the same name for these two different "things" (if I may call them so): and hence there is some probability that they have supposed these "things" _not_ to be two and different, but one and the same. And, secondly, there is a very good reason why they should have supposed so, in the fact that when we refer to introspection and try to discover what the sensation of blue is, it is very easy to suppose that we have before us only a single term. The term "blue" is easy enough to distinguish, but the other element which I have called "consciousness"--that which sensation of blue has in common with sensation of green--is extremely difficult to fix. That many people fail to distinguish it at all is sufficiently shown by the fact that there are materialists. And, in general, that which makes the sensation of blue a mental fact seems to escape us: it seems, if I may use a metaphor, to be transparent--we look through it and see nothing but the blue; we may be convinced that there _is something_ but _what_ it is no philosopher, I think, has yet clearly recognised.
But this was a digression. The point I had established so far was that in every sensation or idea we must distinguish two elements, (1) the "object," or that in which one differs from another; and (2) "consciousness," or that which all have in common--that which makes them sensations or mental facts. This being so, it followed that when a sensation or idea exists, we have to choose between the alternatives that either object alone, or consciousness alone, or both, exist; and I showed that of these alternatives one, namely that the object only exists, is excluded by the fact that what we mean to assert is certainly the existence of a mental fact. There remains the question: Do both exist? Or does the consciousness alone? And to this question one answer has hitherto been given universally: That both exist.
This answer follows from the analysis hitherto accepted of the relation of what I have called "object" to "consciousness" in any sensation or idea. It is held that what I call the object is merely the "content" of a sensation or idea. It is held that in each case we can distinguish two elements and two only, (1) the fact that there is feeling or experience, and (2) _what_ is felt or experienced; the sensation or idea, it is said, forms a whole, in which we must distinguish two "inseparable aspects," "content" and "existence." I shall try to show that this analysis is false; and for that purpose I must ask what may seem an extraordinary question: namely what is meant by saying that one thing is "content" of another? It is not usual to ask this question; the term is used as if everybody must understand it. But since I am going to maintain that "blue" is _not_ the content of the sensation of blue, and what is more important, that, even if it were this analysis would leave out the most important element in the sensation of blue, it is necessary that I should try to explain precisely what it is that I shall deny.
What then is meant by saying that one thing is the "content" of another? First of all I wish to point out that "blue" is rightly and properly said to be part of the content of a blue flower. If, therefore, we also assert that it is part of the content of the sensation of blue, we assert that it has to the other parts (if any) of this whole the same relation which it has to the other parts of a blue flower--and we assert only this: we cannot mean to assert that it has to the sensation of blue any relation which it does not have to the blue flower. And we have seen that the sensation of blue contains at least one other element beside blue--namely, what I call "consciousness," which makes it a sensation. So far then as we assert that blue is the content of the sensation, we assert that it has to this "consciousness" the same relation which it has to the other parts of a blue flower: we do assert this, and we assert no more than this. Into the question what exactly the relation is between blue and a blue flower in virtue of which we call the former part of its "content" I do not propose to enter. It is sufficient for my purpose to point out that it is the general relation most commonly meant when we talk of a thing and its qualities; and that this relation is such that to say the thing exists implies that the qualities also exist. The _content_ of the thing is _what_ we assert to exist, when we assert _that_ the thing exists.
When, therefore, blue is said to be part of the content of the "sensation of blue," the latter is treated as if it were a whole constituted in exactly the same way as any other "thing." The "sensation of blue," on this view, differs from a blue bead or a blue beard, in exactly the same way in which the two latter differ from one another: the blue bead differs from the blue beard, in that while the former contains glass, the latter contains hair; and the "sensation of blue" differs from both in that, instead of glass or hair, it contains consciousness. The relation of the blue to the consciousness is conceived to be exactly the same as that of the blue to the glass or hair: it is in all three cases the _quality_ of a _thing._
But I said just now that the sensation of blue was analysed into "content" and "existence," and that blue was said to be _the_ content of the idea of blue. There is an ambiguity in this and a possible error, which I must note in passing. The term "content" may be used in two senses. If we use "content" as equivalent to what Mr. Bradley calls the "_what_"--if we mean by it the _whole_ of what is said to exist, when the thing is said to exist, then blue is certainly not _the_ content of the sensation of blue: part of the _content_ of the sensation is, in this sense of the term, that other element which I have called consciousness. The analysis of this sensation into the "content" "blue," on the one hand, and mere existence on the other, is therefore certainly false; in it we have again the self-contradictory identification of "Blue exists" with "The sensation of blue exists," But there is another sense in which "blue" might properly be said to be _the_ content of the sensation--namely, the sense in which "content," like _εἴδος_ is opposed to "substance" or "matter." For the element "consciousness," being common to all sensations, may be and certainly is regarded as in some sense their "substance," and by the "content" of each is only meant that in respect of which one differs from another. In this sense then "blue" might be said to be _the_ content of the sensation; but, in that case, the analysis into "content" and "existence" is, at least, misleading, since under "existence" must be included "_what_ exists" in the sensation other than blue.
We have it, then, as a universally received opinion that blue is related to the sensation or idea of blue, as its _content_, and that this view, if it is to be true, must mean that blue is part of _what_ is said to exist when we say that the sensation exists. To say that the sensation exists is to say both that blue exists and that "consciousness," whether we call it the substance of which blue is _the_ content or call it another part of the content, exists too. Any sensation or idea is a "_thing,_" and what I have called its object is the quality of this thing. Such a "thing" is what we think of when we think of a _mental image._ A mental image is conceived as if it were related to that of which it is the image (if there be any such thing) in exactly the same way as the image in a looking-glass is related to that of which it is the reflection; in both cases there is identity of content, and the image in the looking-glass differs from that in the mind solely in respect of the fact that in the one case the other constituent of the image is "glass" and in the other case it is consciousness. If the image is of blue, it is not conceived that this "content" has any relation to the consciousness but what it has to the glass: it Is conceived _merely_ to be its _content._ And owing to the fact that sensations and ideas are all considered to be _wholes_ of this description--things in the mind--the question: What do we know? is considered to be identical with the question: What reason have we for supposing that there are things outside the mind _corresponding_ to these that are inside it?
What I wish to point out is (1) that we have no reason for supposing that there are such things as mental images at all--for supposing that blue _is_ part of the content of the sensation of blue, and (2) that even if there are mental images, no mental image and no sensation or idea is _merely_ a thing of this kind: that 'blue,' even if it is part of the content of the image or sensation or idea of blue, is always _also_ related to it in quite another way, and that this other relation, omitted in the traditional analysis, is the _only_ one which makes the sensation of blue a mental fact at all. The true analysis of a sensation or idea is as follows. The element that is common to them all, and which I have called "consciousness," really _is_ consciousness. A sensation is, in reality, a case of 'knowing' or 'being aware of' or 'experiencing' something. When we know that the sensation of blue exists, the fact we know is that there exists an awareness of blue. And this awareness is not merely, as we have hitherto seen it must be, itself something distinct and unique, utterly different from blue: it also has a perfectly distinct and unique relation to blue, a relation which is _not_ that of thing or substance to content, nor of one part of content to another part of content. This relation is just that which we mean in every case by 'knowing.' To have in your mind 'knowledge' of blue, is _not_ to have in your mind a 'thing' or 'image' of which blue is the content. To be aware of the sensation of blue is _not_ to be aware of a mental image--of a "thing," of which 'blue' and some other element are constituent parts in the same sense in which blue and glass are constituents of a blue bead.
It is to be aware of an awareness of blue; awareness being used, in both cases, in exactly the same sense. This element, we have seen, is certainly neglected by the 'content' theory: that theory entirely fails to express the fact that there is, in the sensation of blue, this unique relation between blue and the other constituent. And what I contend is that this omission is _not_ mere negligence of expression, but is due to the fact that though philosophers have recognised that _something_ distinct is meant by consciousness, they have never yet had a clear conception of _what_ that something is. They have not been able to hold _it_ and _blue_ before their minds and to compare them, in the same way in which they can compare _blue_ and _green._ And this for the reason I gave above: namely that the moment we try to fix our attention upon consciousness and to see _what_, distinctly, it is, it seems to vanish: it seems as if we had before us a mere emptiness. When we try to introspect the sensation of blue, all we can see is the blue: the other element is as if it were diaphanous. Yet it _can_ be distinguished if we look attentively enough, and if we know that there is something to look for.
My main object in this paragraph has been to try to make the reader _see_ it; but I fear I shall have succeeded very ill. It being the case, then, that the sensation of blue includes in its analysis, beside blue, _both_ a unique element 'awareness' _and_ a unique relation of this element to blue, I can make plain what I meant by asserting, as two distinct propositions, (1) that blue is probably not part of the content of the sensation at all, and (2) that, even it were, the sensation would nevertheless not be the sensation _of_ blue, if blue had only this relation to it. The first hypothesis may now be expressed by saying that, if it were true, then, when the sensation of blue exists, there exists a _blue awareness_: offence may be taken at the expression, but yet it expresses just what should be and is meant by saying that blue is, in this case, a _content_ of consciousness or experience. Whether or not, when I have the sensation of blue, my consciousness or awareness is thus blue, my introspection does not enable me to decide with certainty: I only see no reason for thinking that it is. But whether it is or not, the point is unimportant, for introspection _does_ enable me to decide that something else is also true: namely that I am aware _of_ blue, and by this I mean, that my awareness has to blue a quite different and distinct relation. It is possible, I admit, that my awareness is blue _as well_ as being _of_ blue: but what I am quite sure of is that it is _of_ blue; that it has to blue the simple and unique relation the existence of which alone justifies us in distinguishing knowledge of a thing from the thing known, indeed in distinguishing mind from matter. And this result I may express by saying that what is called the _content_ of a sensation is in very truth what I originally called it--the sensation's _object._
Ideas discussed in this chapter
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.