The Analysis of Matter

sense, by saying: A piece of matter is manifested by sensible qualities whose variations are continuous, and whose sensible spatial relations to other such continuous series of qualities are continuous functions of the time. In practice, the changes of sensible quality are often so slow as to be negligible, and this greatly facilitates the task of common sense in recognizing the "same" object on two different occasions. On the common-sense level, there are difficulties in certain cases: a drop, in a sensibly homogeneous fluid in which there is a current, cannot be distinguished at a later moment from another drop which was near it at the earlier moment. Combustion also offers difficulties to common sense. Both these matters can, however, be dealt with on a common-sense basis. A small solid object floating in the water will show which way the water is moving, and the smoke shows, more or less, what happens to an object which is burned. The elaboration immediately suggested leads on naturally to elementary physics and chemistry, where it is still assumed, at least tacitly, that the objects concerned are of the same sort as sensible objects, but rather smaller. Often they can actually be seen under the microscope. Imaginatively, we continue to attribute this continuity with sensible objects to our scientific objects, our electrons and protons, thus concealing from ourselves the highly abstract character of our assertions. At moments, we realize this abstractness; but it does not make its due impression, because imagination reasserts itself as soon as we are off our guard. In theoretical physics, what is an electron, and how do we decide whether two events belong to the history of the same electron? I am not asking how we decide in practice, but what is our theoretical definition. Ever since Minkowski, people have spoken of "world-lines," which are in fact the series of events constituting the history of one unit of matter[Pg 136] but they have not always been as explicit as one could wish in telling us the criterion by which, in theory, it is decided that two events belong to one world-line. The test of identity between the parts of a world-line must obviously depend upon the laws of physics. These laws say that a material unit will move in such-and-such a way; inverting this statement, they say that what has moved in such-and-such a way is to count as one unit of matter. This is substantially the method pursued by Eddington. In Chapter IX. we considered the tensor which, as Eddington shows (§ 52), has the property of conservation—i.e. if the amount of it in any closed region varies, it does so by a flux across the boundaries. He identifies this quantity with matter, because of its property of conservation: "The quantity appearing in our theory is, on account of its property of conservation, now identified with matter, or rather with the mechanical abstraction of matter which comprises the measurable properties of mass, momentum and stress sufficing for all mechanical phenomena" (p. 146). And the above quantity, it will be remembered, is defined solely by means of the formula for small intervals. It will be admitted that matter, so defined, has become rather different from the matter in which common sense believes. If Dr Johnson had known Eddington's definition of matter, he might have been less satisfied with his practical refutation of Berkeley. The exact form of Eddington's definition is not important for our present purposes; indeed, he himself somewhat generalizes it in a later passage. The point is that it is the sort of definition to which modern physics is bound to be led. Approximately, matter as conceived by common sense is conserved; wherever it appears to be destroyed or created, we can find ways of explaining away this appearance. Hence, as[Pg 137] an ideal suggested by empirical facts, we adopt the view that matter is indestructible. We then turn round, and beginning from the formula for interval we construct a mathematical quantity which is indestructible. This, we say, we shall call "matter"; and no harm comes of our doing so. But whenever we take a step of this sort, we widen the gulf between mathematical physics and observation, and increase the problem of building a bridge between them. This problem has not been taken as seriously by physicists as it deserves to be taken. The reason is partly that it has arisen gradually. Physics and perception are like two people on opposite sides of a brook which slowly widens as they walk: at first it is easy to jump across, but imperceptibly it grows more difficult, and at last a vast labour is required to get from one side to the other. Another reason is that physiology and psychology, the two sciences concerned with perception, are less advanced than physics. The man accustomed to the beauty and exactitude of physics is liable to feel a kind of intellectual nausea when he finds himself among the uncertain and vague speculations of the less scientific sciences. He cannot be expected to admit that these sciences have a part to play in providing the premisses for his own precise mathematical deductions. Perhaps he is right, but prima facie physics, as an empirical study, derives its facts from perception, and cannot remain indifferent to any argument which throws doubt on the validity of perception, least of all when that argument is derived from physics itself. An argument designed to prove that a proposition is false is not invalidated by having that proposition among its premisses. Hence if modern physics invalidates perception as a source of knowledge about the external world, and yet depends upon perception, that is a valid argument against modern physics. I do not say that physics in fact has this defect, but I do say that a considerable labour of interpretation is necessary in order to show that it[Pg 138] can be absolved in this respect. And it is because of the abstractness of physics, as developed by mathematicians, that this labour is required. The inevitable specialism which is forced upon men of science by the very increase of scientific knowledge has had a good deal to do with obscuring this problem. Few men have been both physicists and physiologists. Helmholtz's researches concerning vision are a notable example of the combination of these studies, but there are not many others. Physiologists and psychologists are seldom well-informed in physics, and are apt to assume an old-fashioned physics which makes their problems look easier than they are. Moreover, even when the problem is realized, a man may not possess a mastery of the proper instrument for its solution—namely, mathematical logic. It is by means of mathematical logic that Dr Whitehead has been enabled to make his immense contribution to our problem. But, greatly as I admire his work, which I place far above anything else that has been written on the relation of abstract physics to the sensible world, I think there are points—and not unimportant points—where his methods break down for want of due attention to psychology and physiology. Moreover, there seem to be premisses in his construction which are derived rather from a metaphysic than from the actual needs of the problem. For these reasons, I venture to think that it is possible to obtain a solution less revolutionary than his, and somewhat simpler from a logical point of view. The solution, however, must wait until we have examined perception as a source of knowledge, which will be our topic in Part II. The metaphysic which reconciles the results of Part II. with the abstract physics which we have been considering in Part I. will be the subject of Part III. FOOTNOTES: [34] Op. cit., p. 225. [Pg 139] PART II PHYSICS AND PERCEPTION [Pg 141] CHAPTER XV FROM PRIMITIVE PERCEPTION TO COMMON SENSE IN this Part, the subject with which we are concerned is the evidence for the truth of physics—not of this or that special result in physics, but of the general structure of the science. It is to be expected that the evidence will not be such as to give certainty, but at best such as to give probability; it is to be expected, also, that this probability may be increased by a suitable interpretation of physics, where "interpretation" is understood in the sense considered in Chapter I. We shall find it desirable to divide our problem into several parts, each of which will have an importance not confined to physics. There is need, first, to be clear as to what we mean by an empirical science, and what is the degree of certainty to be expected of it at the best. There is need to discuss what can be meant by "data," and to distinguish inferences, theories and hypotheses. We shall then discuss the causal theory of perception, and at the same time the philosophy called "phenomenalism." From these topics we shall pass to general discussion, first of cause, then of substance. This will lead us to the epistemological grounds for interpreting physics in accordance with neutral monism, and to the paramount importance of structure in scientific inference. We shall conclude with a definition of perception considered as affording the empirical data for physics, and with the consideration of phenomena analogous to perception in the non-mental world. But first of all it will be well to examine the historical development by means of which our problem has assumed its present form—both the pre-scientific development leading to common sense, and the scientific development leading from common sense to physics. [Pg 142] Common sense consists of a set of beliefs, or at least habits, which work well in practice except in situations which rarely occur. A savage may be puzzled by a box containing an unseen gyroscope, or by rails carrying an electric current; common sense has not prepared him for oddities of this sort. But a little familiarity enables a man to fit them into his common-sense world, and a mechanic soon learns their ways if he has occasion to do so. This illustrates the fact that there is no sharp line between science and common sense: both involve expectations, but those resulting from science are more accurate. It is possible to pursue science practically without any fundamental change from the metaphysic of common sense. But when theoretical science is taken seriously, it is found to involve a quite changed metaphysic, whose relation to that of common sense demands investigation. This will form the topic of the next chapter; in the present chapter, I shall consider the genesis of common sense, not in the race, since that is undiscoverable, but in the individual. In studying infants, as in studying animals, we are compelled to confine ourselves to behaviouristic methods, whatever our views may be on the subject of behaviourism as a general principle in psychology. We can observe the bodily acts of young infants, but they cannot tell us their thoughts. At a low mental level, however, it is hardly profitable to distinguish between a belief and a habit of action. Beliefs, in the psychological sense, seem to emerge out of previously existing habits, and to be, at first, little more than verbal representations of habits formed before words could be uttered. There is therefore no great loss in being confined to behaviouristic methods when we are considering infants before the age at which they can speak. It is of course obvious and generally recognized that very young infants do not possess the common-sense notion of an "object." This is by no means obvious with the young of[Pg 143] some other kinds of animals—with chickens, for example. They possess, as instincts, useful ways of behaviour which in the human young are only learnt by experience; for example, they can pick up a grain which they see on the ground. The human infant has no such innate skill; for several months, it makes no attempt to touch what it sees. The "hand-eye co-ordination" comes as a result