purplecat24/Russel · Datasets at Hugging Face

text stringlengths 0 74
by means of the sense-data--brown colour, oblong shape, smoothness,
etc.--which we associate with the table; but, for the reasons which have
been given, we cannot say that the table is the sense-data, or even
that the sense-data are directly properties of the table. Thus a problem
arises as to the relation of the sense-data to the real table, supposing
there is such a thing.

The real table, if it exists, we will call a 'physical object'. Thus
we have to consider the relation of sense-data to physical objects.
The collection of all physical objects is called 'matter'. Thus our two
questions may be re-stated as follows: (1) Is there any such thing as
matter? (2) If so, what is its nature?

The philosopher who first brought prominently forward the reasons
for regarding the immediate objects of our senses as not existing
independently of us was Bishop Berkeley (1685-1753). His _Three
Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, in Opposition to Sceptics and
Atheists_, undertake to prove that there is no such thing as matter at
all, and that the world consists of nothing but minds and their ideas.
Hylas has hitherto believed in matter, but he is no match for Philonous,
who mercilessly drives him into contradictions and paradoxes, and makes
his own denial of matter seem, in the end, as if it were almost common
sense. The arguments employed are of very different value: some are
important and sound, others are confused or quibbling. But Berkeley
retains the merit of having shown that the existence of matter is
capable of being denied without absurdity, and that if there are any
things that exist independently of us they cannot be the immediate
objects of our sensations.

There are two different questions involved when we ask whether matter
exists, and it is important to keep them clear. We commonly mean by
'matter' something which is opposed to 'mind', something which we think
of as occupying space and as radically incapable of any sort of thought
or consciousness. It is chiefly in this sense that Berkeley denies
matter; that is to say, he does not deny that the sense-data which we
commonly take as signs of the existence of the table are really signs
of the existence of _something_ independent of us, but he does deny
that this something is non-mental, that it is neither mind nor ideas
entertained by some mind. He admits that there must be something which
continues to exist when we go out of the room or shut our eyes, and that
what we call seeing the table does really give us reason for believing
in something which persists even when we are not seeing it. But he
thinks that this something cannot be radically different in nature from
what we see, and cannot be independent of seeing altogether, though it
must be independent of _our_ seeing. He is thus led to regard the 'real'
table as an idea in the mind of God. Such an idea has the required
permanence and independence of ourselves, without being--as matter would
otherwise be--something quite unknowable, in the sense that we can only
infer it, and can never be directly and immediately aware of it.

Other philosophers since Berkeley have also held that, although the
table does not depend for its existence upon being seen by me, it does
depend upon being seen (or otherwise apprehended in sensation) by
_some_ mind--not necessarily the mind of God, but more often the whole
collective mind of the universe. This they hold, as Berkeley does,
chiefly because they think there can be nothing real--or at any rate
nothing known to be real except minds and their thoughts and feelings.
We might state the argument by which they support their view in some
such way as this: 'Whatever can be thought of is an idea in the mind of
the person thinking of it; therefore nothing can be thought of except
ideas in minds; therefore anything else is inconceivable, and what is
inconceivable cannot exist.'

Such an argument, in my opinion, is fallacious; and of course those who
advance it do not put it so shortly or so crudely. But whether valid or
not, the argument has been very widely advanced in one form or another;
and very many philosophers, perhaps a majority, have held that there is
nothing real except minds and their ideas. Such philosophers are called
'idealists'. When they come to explaining matter, they either say, like
Berkeley, that matter is really nothing but a collection of ideas,
or they say, like Leibniz (1646-1716), that what appears as matter is
really a collection of more or less rudimentary minds.

But these philosophers, though they deny matter as opposed to mind,
nevertheless, in another sense, admit matter. It will be remembered that
we asked two questions; namely, (1) Is there a real table at all? (2) If
so, what sort of object can it be? Now both Berkeley and Leibniz admit
that there is a real table, but Berkeley says it is certain ideas in the
mind of God, and Leibniz says it is a colony of souls. Thus both of them
answer our first question in the affirmative, and only diverge from the
views of ordinary mortals in their answer to our second question. In
fact, almost all philosophers seem to be agreed that there is a real
table: they almost all agree that, however much our sense-data--colour,
shape, smoothness, etc.--may depend upon us, yet their occurrence is
a sign of something existing independently of us, something differing,
perhaps, completely from our sense-data, and yet to be regarded as
causing those sense-data whenever we are in a suitable relation to the
real table.

Now obviously this point in which the philosophers are agreed--the view
that there _is_ a real table, whatever its nature may be--is vitally
important, and it will be worth while to consider what reasons there are
for accepting this view before we go on to the further question as
to the nature of the real table. Our next chapter, therefore, will be
concerned with the reasons for supposing that there is a real table at
all.

Before we go farther it will be well to consider for a moment what it
is that we have discovered so far. It has appeared that, if we take any
common object of the sort that is supposed to be known by the senses,

by means of the sense-data--brown colour, oblong shape, smoothness,

etc.--which we associate with the table; but, for the reasons which have

been given, we cannot say that the table is the sense-data, or even

that the sense-data are directly properties of the table. Thus a problem

arises as to the relation of the sense-data to the real table, supposing

there is such a thing.

The real table, if it exists, we will call a 'physical object'. Thus

we have to consider the relation of sense-data to physical objects.

The collection of all physical objects is called 'matter'. Thus our two

questions may be re-stated as follows: (1) Is there any such thing as

matter? (2) If so, what is its nature?

The philosopher who first brought prominently forward the reasons

for regarding the immediate objects of our senses as not existing

independently of us was Bishop Berkeley (1685-1753). His _Three

Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, in Opposition to Sceptics and

Atheists_, undertake to prove that there is no such thing as matter at

all, and that the world consists of nothing but minds and their ideas.

Hylas has hitherto believed in matter, but he is no match for Philonous,

who mercilessly drives him into contradictions and paradoxes, and makes

his own denial of matter seem, in the end, as if it were almost common

sense. The arguments employed are of very different value: some are

important and sound, others are confused or quibbling. But Berkeley

retains the merit of having shown that the existence of matter is

capable of being denied without absurdity, and that if there are any

things that exist independently of us they cannot be the immediate

objects of our sensations.

There are two different questions involved when we ask whether matter

exists, and it is important to keep them clear. We commonly mean by

'matter' something which is opposed to 'mind', something which we think

of as occupying space and as radically incapable of any sort of thought

or consciousness. It is chiefly in this sense that Berkeley denies

matter; that is to say, he does not deny that the sense-data which we

commonly take as signs of the existence of the table are really signs

of the existence of _something_ independent of us, but he does deny

that this something is non-mental, that it is neither mind nor ideas

entertained by some mind. He admits that there must be something which

continues to exist when we go out of the room or shut our eyes, and that

what we call seeing the table does really give us reason for believing

in something which persists even when we are not seeing it. But he

thinks that this something cannot be radically different in nature from

what we see, and cannot be independent of seeing altogether, though it

must be independent of _our_ seeing. He is thus led to regard the 'real'

table as an idea in the mind of God. Such an idea has the required

permanence and independence of ourselves, without being--as matter would

otherwise be--something quite unknowable, in the sense that we can only

infer it, and can never be directly and immediately aware of it.

Other philosophers since Berkeley have also held that, although the

table does not depend for its existence upon being seen by me, it does

depend upon being seen (or otherwise apprehended in sensation) by

_some_ mind--not necessarily the mind of God, but more often the whole

collective mind of the universe. This they hold, as Berkeley does,

chiefly because they think there can be nothing real--or at any rate

nothing known to be real except minds and their thoughts and feelings.

We might state the argument by which they support their view in some

such way as this: 'Whatever can be thought of is an idea in the mind of

the person thinking of it; therefore nothing can be thought of except

ideas in minds; therefore anything else is inconceivable, and what is

inconceivable cannot exist.'

Such an argument, in my opinion, is fallacious; and of course those who

advance it do not put it so shortly or so crudely. But whether valid or

not, the argument has been very widely advanced in one form or another;

and very many philosophers, perhaps a majority, have held that there is

nothing real except minds and their ideas. Such philosophers are called

'idealists'. When they come to explaining matter, they either say, like

Berkeley, that matter is really nothing but a collection of ideas,

or they say, like Leibniz (1646-1716), that what appears as matter is

really a collection of more or less rudimentary minds.

But these philosophers, though they deny matter as opposed to mind,

nevertheless, in another sense, admit matter. It will be remembered that

we asked two questions; namely, (1) Is there a real table at all? (2) If

so, what sort of object can it be? Now both Berkeley and Leibniz admit

that there is a real table, but Berkeley says it is certain ideas in the

mind of God, and Leibniz says it is a colony of souls. Thus both of them

answer our first question in the affirmative, and only diverge from the

views of ordinary mortals in their answer to our second question. In

fact, almost all philosophers seem to be agreed that there is a real

table: they almost all agree that, however much our sense-data--colour,

shape, smoothness, etc.--may depend upon us, yet their occurrence is

a sign of something existing independently of us, something differing,

perhaps, completely from our sense-data, and yet to be regarded as

causing those sense-data whenever we are in a suitable relation to the

real table.

Now obviously this point in which the philosophers are agreed--the view

that there _is_ a real table, whatever its nature may be--is vitally

important, and it will be worth while to consider what reasons there are

for accepting this view before we go on to the further question as

to the nature of the real table. Our next chapter, therefore, will be

concerned with the reasons for supposing that there is a real table at

all.

Before we go farther it will be well to consider for a moment what it

is that we have discovered so far. It has appeared that, if we take any

common object of the sort that is supposed to be known by the senses,