Philosophy

laws, we cannot assert dogmatically that there is no residue which is theoretically inexplicable by this method. We may say that the trend of science, so far, seems to render such a view improbable, but to say even so much is perhaps rash, though, for my part, I should regard it as still more rash to say that there certainly is such a residue. I propose, therefore, as a matter of argument, to admit the behaviourist position on this point, since my objections to behaviourism as an ultimate philosophy come from quite a different kind of considerations. (3) The proposition we are now to examine may be stated as follows: “All facts that can be known about human beings are known by the same method by which the facts of physics are known.” This I hold to be true, but for a reason exactly opposite to that which influences the behaviourist. I hold that the facts of physics, like those of psychology, are obtained by what is really self-observation, although common sense mistakenly supposes that it is observation of external objects. As we saw in Chapter XIII, your visual, auditory, and other percepts are all in your head, from the standpoint of physics. Therefore, when you “see the sun”, it is, strictly speaking, an event in yourself that you are knowing: the inference to an external cause is more or less precarious, and is on occasion mistaken. To revert to the assafœtida: it is by a number of self-observations that you know that the smell of assafœtida is unpleasant, and it is by a number of self-observations that you know that the sun is bright and warm. There is no essential difference between the two cases. One may say that the data of psychology are those private facts which are not very directly linked with facts outside the body, while the data of physics are those private facts which have a very direct causal connection with facts outside the body. Thus physics and psychology have the same method; but this is rather what is commonly taken to be the special method of psychology than what is regarded as the method of physics. We differ from the behaviourist in assimilating physical to psychological method, rather than the opposite. (4) Is there a source of knowledge such as is believed in by those who appeal to “introspection”? According to what we have just been saying, all knowledge rests upon something which might, in a sense, be called “introspection”. Nevertheless, there may be some distinction to be discovered. I think myself that the only distinction of importance is in the degree of correlation with events outside the body of the observer. Suppose, for example, that a behaviourist is watching a rat in a maze, and that a friend is standing by. He says to the friend “Do you see that rat?” If the friend says yes, the behaviourist is engaged in his normal occupation of observing physical occurrences. But if the friend says no, the behaviourist exclaims, “I must give up this boot-legged whiskey”. In that case, if his horror still permits him to think clearly, he will be obliged to say that in watching the imaginary rat he was engaged in introspection. There was certainly something happening, and he could still obtain knowledge by observing what was happening, provided he abstained from supposing that it had a cause outside his body. But he cannot, without outside testimony or some other extraneous information, distinguish between the “real” rat and the “imaginary” one. Thus in the case of the “real” rat also, his primary datum ought to be considered introspective, in spite of the fact that it does not seem so; for the datum in the case of the “imaginary” rat also does not seem to be merely introspective. The real point seems to be this: some events have effects which radiate all round them, and can therefore produce reactions in a number of observers; of these, ordinary speech is an illustration. But other events produce effects which travel linearly, not spherically; of these, speech into a telephone from a sound-proof telephone box may serve as an illustration. This can be heard by only one person beside the speaker; if instead of a speaker we had an instrument at the mouthpiece, only one person could hear the sound, namely the person at the other end of the telephone. Events which happen inside a human body are like the noise in the telephone: they have effects, in the main, which travel along nerves to the brain, instead of spreading out in all directions equally. Consequently, a man can know a great deal about his own body which another man can only know indirectly. Another man can see the hole in my tooth, but he cannot feel my toothache. If he infers that I feel toothache, he still does not have the very same knowledge that I have; he may use the same words, but the stimulus to his use of them is different from the stimulus to mine, and I can be acutely aware of the pain which is the stimulus to my words. In all these ways a man has knowledge concerning his own body which is obtained differently from the way in which he obtains knowledge of other bodies. This peculiar knowledge is, in one sense, “introspective”, though not quite in the sense that Dr. Watson denies. (5) We come now to the real crux of the whole matter, namely to the question: Do we think? This question is very ambiguous, so long as “thinking” has not been clearly defined. Perhaps we may state the matter thus: Do we know events in us which would not be included in an absolutely complete knowledge of physics? I mean by a complete knowledge of physics a knowledge not only of physical laws, but also of what we may call geography, i.e. the distribution of energy throughout space-time. If the question is put in this way, I think it is quite clear that we do know things not included in physics. A blind man could know the whole of physics, but he could not know what things look like to people who can see, nor what is the difference between red and blue as seen. He could know all about wave-lengths, but people knew the difference between red and blue as seen before they knew anything about wave-lengths. The person who knows physics and can see knows that a certain wave-length will give him a sensation of red, but this knowledge is not part of physics. Again, we know what we mean by “pleasant” and “unpleasant”, and we do not know this any better when we have discovered that pleasant things have one kind of physiological effect and unpleasant things have another. If we did not already know what things are pleasant and what unpleasant, we could never have discovered this correlation. But the knowledge that certain things are pleasant and certain others unpleasant is no part of physics. Finally, we come to imaginations, hallucinations, and dreams. In all these cases, we may suppose that there is an external stimulus, but the cerebral part of the causal chain is unusual, so that there is not in the outside world something connected with what we are imagining in the same way as in normal perception. Yet in such cases we can quite clearly know what is happening to us; we can, for example, often remember our dreams. I think dreams must count as “thought”, in the sense that they lie outside physics. They may be accompanied by movements, but knowledge of them is not knowledge of these movements. Indeed all knowledge as to movements of matter is inferential, and the knowledge which a scientific man should take as constituting his primary data is more like our knowledge of dreams than like our knowledge of the movements of rats or heavenly bodies. To this extent, I should say, Descartes is in the right as against Watson. Watson’s position seems to rest upon naive realism as regards the physical world, but naive realism is destroyed by what physics itself has to say concerning physical causation and the antecedents of our perceptions. On these grounds, I hold that self-observation can and does give us knowledge which is not part of physics, and that there is no reason to deny the reality of “thought”.