Summary: In spite of the great advances which have been made in knowledge, some fundamental gaps still remain; matter, life and mind still remain utterly disparate phenomena. Yet the concepts of all three arise in experience, and in the human all three meet and apparently intermingle, so that real links must exist between them. Reformed concepts of all three are wanted. This will come from fuller scientific knowledge, and especially from a re-survey of the material from new points of view. The fresh outlook must accompany the collection of further detailed knowledge, and nowhere is the new outlook more urgently required than in the survey of these great divisions of knowledge.
Summary: Despite the enormous progress science has made, some basic gaps in our understanding remain. Matter, life and mind still appear to be three completely different kinds of thing, with nothing in common. Yet we encounter all three in our own experience, and in human beings they meet and seem to blend together — so there must be real connections between them. We need updated, reformed concepts of all three. Those new concepts will come partly from gathering more scientific knowledge, but especially from re-examining what we already know from fresh angles. New ways of looking at things must go hand in hand with new discoveries, and nowhere is a fresh perspective more urgently needed than in our thinking about these three great branches of knowledge.
Take Evolution as a case in point. The acceptance of Evolution as a fact, the origin of life-structures from the inorganic, must mean a complete revolution in our idea of matter. If matter holds the promise and potency of life and mind it is no longer the old matter of the physical materialists. We have accepted Evolution, but have failed to make the fundamental readjustment in our views which that acceptance involves.
Take Evolution as an example. To accept Evolution as a fact — to accept that living things originated from non-living matter — must mean a complete revolution in our idea of what matter is. If matter contains the seed and the latent capacity for life and mind, then it can no longer be the matter that the old physical materialists (those who believed reality consists only of inert physical stuff) imagined it to be. We have accepted Evolution, but we have failed to make the fundamental rethink of our worldview that this acceptance demands.
Nineteenth-century science went wrong mostly because of the hard and narrow concept of causation which dominated it. It was a fixed dogma that there could be no more in the effect than there was in the cause; hence creativeness and real progress became impossible. The narrow concept of causation again arose from a wider intellectual error of abstraction, of narrowing down all concepts into hard definite contours and wiping out their indefinite surrounding "fields.” The concept of "fields” is absolutely necessary in order to get back to the fluid plastic facts of nature. The elimination of their "fields" in which things and concepts alike meet and intermingle creatively made all understanding of real connections and inter-actions impossible. The double mistake of analysis, and abstraction or generalisation has led to a departure in thought from the fluid procedure of nature. Abstract procedure with its narrowing of concepts and processes into hard -and rigid outlines, and their rounding off into definite scientific counters, temporarily simplified the problems of science and thought, but we have outlived the utility of this procedure, and for further advance we have now to return to the more difficult but more correct view of the natural plasticity and fluidity of natural things and processes. From this new view-point a resurvey will be made in the sequel of our ideas relating to matter, life and mind, and an attempt will be made to reach the fundamental unity and continuity which underlie and connect all three. We shall thus come to see all three as connected steps in the same great Process, the nature and functions of which will be investigated.
Nineteenth-century science went off track largely because of the rigid, narrow idea of causation it adopted. It treated as fixed dogma the rule that an effect can never contain more than was already in its cause. On that view, genuine creativity and real progress were impossible. This narrow idea of causation came in turn from a wider intellectual mistake — the habit of taking concepts in isolation, drawing hard, definite outlines around them, and erasing the indefinite “fields” (the surrounding zones of influence and meaning) that exist around every real thing. The concept of “fields” is essential if we want to recover the fluid, plastic reality of nature. By stripping away these fields — the regions where things and ideas overlap and creatively interact — nineteenth-century thought made it impossible to understand real connections and interactions. The twin mistakes of analysis (breaking things into parts) and abstraction or generalisation (treating those parts as the real things) have led our thinking away from the fluid way nature actually works. By forcing concepts and processes into hard, rigid outlines and turning them into neat scientific units, abstract reasoning temporarily simplified the problems of science and thought. But we have outgrown the usefulness of this approach. To make further progress we now have to return to the harder but more accurate picture of nature as plastic and fluid — with things and processes that flow and shade into one another. From this new vantage point, the rest of this book will re-examine our ideas of matter, life and mind, and try to uncover the deep unity and continuity that underlie and link all three. We will come to see all three as connected stages in one great Process, whose nature and workings we will then investigate.
AMONG the great gaps in knowledge those which separate the phenomena of matter, life, and mind still remain unbridged. Matter, life, and mind remain utterly unlike each other. Apparently indeed their differences are ultimate, and nowhere does there appear a bridge for thought from one to the other. And their utter difference and disparateness produce the great breaks in knowledge, and separate knowledge into three quite different compartments. And yet they are all three in experience, and cannot therefore be so utterly unlike and alien to each other. What is more, they actually intermingle and co-exist in the human, which is compounded of matter, life, and mind. If indeed there were no common basis to matter, life, and mind, their union in the human individual would be the greatest mystery of all. What is in fact united in human experience and in human existence cannot be so infinitely far asunder in human thought, unless thought and fact are absolutely incongruous. Not only do they actually co-exist and mingle in the human, they appear to be genetically related and to give rise to each other in a definite series in the stages of Evolution; life appearing to arise in or from matter, and mind in or from life. The actual transitions have not been observed, but are assumed to have taken place under certain conditions in the course of cosmic Evolution. Hence arise the three series in the real world: physical, biological and psychical or mental. These psychological and factual connections between them tend to show that they cannot be fundamentally alien and irreconcilable, and that some sort of a bridge between them must be possible, unless we are to assume that our human experience is indeed a mere chaotic jumble of disconnected elements.
AMONG the great gaps in our knowledge, the ones separating the phenomena of matter, life and mind have still not been bridged. These three remain utterly unlike one another. Their differences look fundamental, and there seems to be no conceptual bridge from any one of them to another. This stark difference is what creates the great breaks in knowledge and divides it into three quite separate compartments. And yet all three appear in our experience, so they cannot really be so completely alien to one another. What is more, they actually combine and coexist in human beings, who are made up of matter, life and mind together. If there were genuinely no common ground between them, their union in a single human being would be the greatest mystery of all. What is in fact united in human experience and human existence cannot be infinitely far apart in human thought — unless our thinking and the facts are utterly out of step with each other. And it is not just that they coexist and intermingle in us. They also appear to be related by descent: in the course of Evolution they seem to give rise to one another in a definite sequence — life appearing to arise out of matter, and mind out of life. The actual transitions have not been directly observed, but we assume they took place under certain conditions during cosmic Evolution. This is what produces the three great series we find in the real world: the physical, the biological and the psychical or mental. The fact that they are connected both in our experience and in the actual world strongly suggests they cannot be fundamentally alien and irreconcilable. Some sort of bridge between them must be possible — unless we are willing to assume that human experience is just a chaotic jumble of disconnected pieces.
As the incongruity" does not arise from the facts either of experience or of existence, the problem is one for our thought and our science. The solution must therefore ultimately depend on our more extended knowledge of these series and the discovery of interconnections between them. The great darknesses and gaps in experience are mostly due to ignorance. Our experience is clear and luminous only at certain points which are separated by wide regions of obscurity; hence the apparent mystery of the luminous points and of their isolation and unlikeness. Hence also the still greater mystery of the actual union of the three series in the threefold incarnation which constitutes human personality.
Since this mismatch does not arise from the facts of either experience or existence, the problem must lie in our thinking and our science. The solution will therefore ultimately depend on extending our knowledge of these three series and discovering the connections between them. The great dark patches and gaps in experience are mostly the product of ignorance. Our experience is clear and brightly lit only at certain points, with broad regions of obscurity in between. That is what makes the bright points seem so mysterious in their isolation and difference. And it is what makes the actual union of all three series — in the threefold nature of the human personality — seem an even greater mystery still.
But it is just this union which ought to warn us that the apparent separateness of these three fundamental concepts is not well founded in fact, and that further progress in research and a deeper insight might be able to clear up the mystery. Physical science ought to provide the solvent for our idea of hard impenetrable inert matter, and in the sequel I shall inquire in how far there are already the materials for such a solvent. Again, biological science should dispel the vagueness of the concept of life, and replace it by a more definite meaningful concept, which will yet not depend on purely material or mechanical elements. At present the concept of life is so indefinite and vague that, although the kingdom of life is fully recognised-, its government is placed under the rule of physical force or Mechanism. Life is practically banished from its own domain, and its throne is occupied by a usurper, v Biology thus becomes a subject province of physical science--the kingdom of life, the free artistic plastic kingdom of the universe, is inappropriately placed under the dead hand of matter. Mind again, which is closest to us in experience,- becomes farthest from us in exact thought. The concepts in which we envisage it are so vague and nebulous, compared with the hard and rigid contours of our concepts of matter, that the two appear poles asunder. Here too a reformed concept of mind might bring it much closer to a reformed concept of matter.
It is precisely this union of the three in human beings that should warn us that the apparent separation of these three fundamental concepts is not really grounded in fact — and that further research and deeper insight may yet be able to clear up the mystery. Physical science ought to dissolve our idea of matter as hard, impenetrable and inert, and in what follows I will examine how far the materials for that dissolution are already in hand. Biological science, in turn, should clear away the vagueness of our concept of life and replace it with a more definite and meaningful one — though one that does not reduce life to purely material or mechanical components. At present the concept of life is so vague and indefinite that, although the realm of life is fully acknowledged, that realm is placed under the rule of physical force or Mechanism (the doctrine that all phenomena, including life, can be fully explained by physical and chemical causes alone). Life has effectively been exiled from its own kingdom, and its throne occupied by a usurper. Biology becomes a subordinate province of physical science — the kingdom of life, the free, artistic, plastic kingdom of the universe, placed unsuitably under the dead hand of matter. Mind too, which is closest to us in experience, somehow becomes the most distant from us in rigorous thought. The concepts we use to think about it are so vague and nebulous compared with the hard, rigid outlines of our concepts of matter, that the two seem to be at opposite poles. Here too, a reformed concept of mind might bring it much closer to a reformed concept of matter.
A reform of the concept of matter is urgently required, and is indeed amply justified by the unprecedented recent advances in physical science, and especially in our knowledge of the constitution of matter. And a reform will, as I shall show in the third chapter, bring matter considerably nearer to the concept of life.
Reforming our concept of matter is urgently needed, and the recent unprecedented advances in physical science — especially in our understanding of how matter is built — amply justify it. As I will show in the third chapter, such a reform will bring matter considerably closer to the concept of life.
With regard again to the concept of life, what is most urgently required is that it should be rid of that haziness, indefiniteness, and vagueness which makes it practically worthless for all exact scientific purposes. Biological science has not in recent years made the same gigantic strides forward in the knowledge of fundamentals that physical science has taken, and yet for Biology too the sky has considerably cleared, and its right to an independent position with its own categories and principles has been completely vindicated. Besides, the greatest development in Biology during this century has taken place in the science of Genetics, and the trend there has been steadily away from the mechanical physical conceptions which dominated Biology more than a generation ago. The time here too may be ripe for a reconsideration of some of the fundamental concepts and standpoints. I may express the hope that the masters of this science will not concentrate all their attention on special researches, however promising the clues at present followed may be, but that they will find time for a reconsideration of the wider conceptions which is becoming urgently necessary. Unless Biology can succeed in clarifying and harmonising her fundamental conceptions there is risk of great confusion, and there will be a continual temptation to fall back Upon the quite definite mechanical ideas of physical science. If in the sequel I join in the discussion of the foundations of Biology, not as entitled of right to speak but more in the character of a friendly spectator urging the importance of a certain point of view, I hope my presumption in so doing may be forgiven me.
As for the concept of life, what is most urgently required is to rid it of the haziness, indefiniteness and vagueness that make it practically useless for any rigorous scientific purpose. Biology has not made the same gigantic strides forward in fundamentals in recent years that physics has — yet the sky has cleared considerably for biology too, and its right to stand as an independent discipline, with its own categories and principles, has been completely vindicated. What is more, biology’s greatest growth area in this century has been Genetics, where the trend has been steadily away from the mechanical, physical conceptions that dominated biology a generation ago. So here too the time may be ripe for a reconsideration of some of the fundamental concepts and assumptions. May I express the hope that the masters of this science will not pour all their attention into specialised research — however promising the leads they are now following — but will also find time to revisit the broader concepts that need rethinking? Unless biology can succeed in clarifying and harmonising its fundamental ideas, there is a risk of serious confusion, with a constant temptation to fall back on the perfectly definite mechanical ideas of physics. If in what follows I join the discussion of the foundations of biology — not as someone with the right to speak, but more as a friendly outsider urging the importance of a particular point of view — I hope my presumption will be forgiven.
For welcome as any new and deeper knowledge would be on these high matters, the present situation calls even more urgently for fresh points of view. Matter, life, and mind are, so to speak, the original alphabet of knowledge, the original nuclei round which all experience, thought, and speculation have gathered. Their origin is purely empirical, their course has been shaped by tradition for thousands of years, and all sorts of discarded philosophies have gone towards the making of their popular meanings. In spite, therefore, of the great fundamental aspects of truth which they embody, the kernel of truth in them has become overlaid by deep deposits of imperfect and erroneous knowledge. Modern science and philosophy have repeatedly ventured on reforms, but the popular use of these terms tends to obliterate all fine distinctions. I do not believe that an abiding scientific or philosophic advance in this respect will be possible until a more exact nomenclature has been adopted. A particular suggestion towards such a reform I am going to advocate and develop in the sequel, but in the meantime I wish to emphasise how important it is, not merely to continue the acquisition of knowledge, but also to develop new view-points from which to envisage all our vast accumulated material of knowledge. The Copernican revolution was not so much a revolution in the acquisition of new knowledge, as in view-point and perspective in respect of existing knowledge. The most far-reaching revolutions in knowledge are often of this character. Evolution in the mind of Darwin was, like the Copernican revolution, a new viewpoint, from which vast masses of biological knowledge already existing fell into new alignments and became the illustrations of a great new Principle. And similarly Einstein's conception of General Relativity in the physical universe, whatever its final form may yet be, is a new viewpoint from which the whole universe and all its working mechanisms acquire a new perspective and meaning.
Welcome as any new and deeper knowledge of these great matters would be, the present situation actually calls even more urgently for fresh points of view. Matter, life and mind are, so to speak, the original alphabet of knowledge — the original cores around which all our experience, thought and speculation have gathered. They originated purely from experience; their development has been shaped by tradition over thousands of years, and many discarded philosophies have helped fix their popular meanings. So although they capture great fundamental truths, the kernel of truth in them has been buried under thick layers of imperfect and mistaken knowledge. Modern science and philosophy have made repeated attempts at reform, but everyday usage tends to wash out all the fine distinctions. I do not believe any lasting scientific or philosophical advance on this front will be possible until a more precise vocabulary is adopted. I will be advocating and developing one such proposed reform later in the book. In the meantime, I want to stress how important it is not merely to keep accumulating knowledge but to develop new vantage points from which to view the vast body of knowledge we already possess. The Copernican revolution was not so much a revolution in newly-acquired knowledge as a shift in vantage point and perspective on existing knowledge. The most far-reaching revolutions in knowledge are often of just this kind. Evolution, for Darwin, was — like the Copernican revolution — a new vantage point, from which vast amounts of already-existing biological knowledge fell into new alignments and became illustrations of a great new Principle. Similarly Einstein’s conception of General Relativity in the physical universe, whatever final form it may yet take, is a new vantage point from which the whole universe and all its workings acquire fresh perspective and meaning.
More knowledge is undoubtedly required, but its acquisition must go hand in hand with the exploration of new synoptic concepts and new points of view. It will not help merely to accumulate details of which, even in the special departments of the separate biological sciences, the masses are already becoming more than any individual mind can bear. New co-ordinations are required, new syntheses which will sum up and explain and illuminate the otherwise amorphous collections of material. While research is being prosecuted as never before, while in biological science great, and in the physical sciences unprecedented, progress is being recorded, the call becomes ever more urgent for a reconsideration of fundamental concepts and the discovery of new view-points which might lead to the formulation of more general principles and wider generalisations. Nowhere are new viewpoints more urgently called for than in respect of the fundamental concepts of matter, life, and mind, of which the reform is overdue and the present state is rapidly becoming a real obstacle to further progress. And I may point out that the formulation of new view-points will depend not so much on masses of minute details, as on the reconsideration of the general principles in the light of recent advances, the collation and comparison of large collections of fact, and the survey of fairly large areas of knowledge. The road is to be discovered, not so much by minute local inspection as by wide roaming and exploration and surveying over large districts. Both methods are needed, and the question narrows itself down to one of comparative values. Just as happened in the cases of Newton and Einstein, so here too the new clues are more likely to be indicated by certain crucial dominant facts than by small increments of research. It would therefore be a great mistake to let the completion of present detailed researches take precedence over the more general and urgent questions to which I am drawing attention.
More knowledge is undoubtedly needed, but acquiring it must go hand in hand with developing new synoptic concepts (concepts that take in a broad view of a whole subject at once) and new points of view. It will not help simply to keep piling up details. Even within the specialised branches of biology, the volume of detail is already becoming more than any single mind can absorb. We need new co-ordinations, new syntheses that will sum up, explain and illuminate what is otherwise just a shapeless collection of material. Research is being pursued more vigorously than ever; biology is making great progress and physics is making unprecedented progress. Yet the call grows ever more urgent for a reconsideration of fundamental concepts and the discovery of new vantage points from which more general principles and wider generalisations might be formulated. And nowhere are new vantage points more urgently needed than in regard to the fundamental concepts of matter, life and mind. Reforming these is overdue, and their current state is rapidly becoming a real obstacle to further progress. Let me also note that the formulation of new vantage points will depend less on collecting fine-grained details than on rethinking general principles in the light of recent advances, comparing and collating large bodies of fact, and surveying fairly large areas of knowledge. The new road is to be discovered not so much by minutely inspecting one small place as by ranging widely across whole regions and surveying them. Both methods are needed; the question is which is more valuable now. As happened with Newton and Einstein, the new clues are more likely to come from a few crucial dominant facts than from small increments of additional research. So it would be a serious mistake to let the completion of current detailed projects take precedence over the more general and urgent questions I am pointing to.
Let me in this connection mention one matter of crucial significance to which I think, sufficient importance has not yet been attached. To-day I think it is generally accepted that life has in the process of cosmic Evolution developed from or in the bosom of matter, and that mind itself has its inalienable physical basis. I do not think that among those who have given thought and attention to these matters there are to-day many who seriously question this position. Life is no dove that has flown to our shores from some world beyond this world; mind or soul is not an importation from some other universe. Life and mind are not mere visitants to this world, but not o/this world. There is nothing alien in them to the substance of the universe; they are with us and they are of us. The popular view still looks upon the association of life and mind with matter as a sort of symbiosis, as the close living together of three different beings, as the dwelling of life and the soul in the body of matter, just as in the organic world one plant or animal organism will be found normally living with and in another. This popular traditional view comes from the hoary beginnings of human thought and speculation, but it is definitely abandoned by all those who have assimilated the modern view-point of Evolution. For them in some way not yet fully understood, but accepted as an undoubted fact, both life and mind have developed from matter or the physical basis of existence. The acceptance of this fact must have far-reaching consequences for our world-view.
Let me mention here one matter of crucial significance which I think has not yet been given the weight it deserves. Today it is generally accepted that, in the course of cosmic Evolution, life developed from — or out of the very heart of — matter, and that mind itself has an inseparable physical basis. I do not believe that, among those who have given thought and attention to these matters, many seriously question this position any more. Life is not some dove that flew to our shores from another world; mind, or soul, is not an import from some other universe. Life and mind are not mere visitors here who do not really belong; they are not foreign to the substance of the universe. They are with us and they are of us. The popular view still treats the association of life and mind with matter as a kind of symbiosis — as three different beings living together, as life and soul taking up residence inside the body of matter, the way one organism may live with and inside another in nature. This popular traditional view goes back to the dim beginnings of human thought and speculation, but it is decisively rejected by everyone who has absorbed the modern Evolutionary point of view. For them, in some way not yet fully understood but accepted as an undoubted fact, both life and mind have developed out of matter, the physical basis of existence. Accepting this fact must have far-reaching consequences for our overall view of the world.
But before I refer to these consequences let me point out how this acceptance affects the grave issues over which our fathers fought a continuous battle royal during the latter half of the nineteenth century. The materialists contended for this very point, namely, that life and mind were born of matter. From this priority of matter they proceeded (quite illegitimately) to infer its primacy and self-sufficiency in the order of the universe, and to reduce life and mind.to a subsidiary and subordinate position as mere epiphenomena, as appearances on the surface of the one reality, matter. To use the Platonic figure, to them matter was the lyre, and the soul was the music of that lyre; the lyre was the substantive and abiding reality, and the music a mere passing product. And thus the priority and dominance of matter made of life and the soul merely transient and embarrassed phantoms on the stage of existence. This materialism was most hotly resented and contested by those who held to the spiritual values and realities. They denied not only the primacy of matter but also its priority or that life or mind sprang from it and were dependent on it in any real sense. In fact they denied the principle of Evolution as undermining all the spiritual and moral values of life. Both sides, materialists and spiritualists alike, were under the influence of the hard physical concepts of cause and effect which played such a great part in the science and philosophy of the nineteenth century. There could be nothing more in the effect than there was already in the cause; and if matter caused the soul, there could be nothing more in the soul than there already was in matter. The stream could not rise above its source. In other words, the soul was merely an apparent and no real substantial advance on matter. The general validity of this argument was never questioned and was thoroughly believed in by both sides. Hence those who affirmed the theory of Evolution logically tended to be materialists, and those who were spiritualists were logically forced to deny Evolution.
Before I turn to those consequences, let me point out how this acceptance affects the great issues over which our fathers fought a continuous battle royal during the second half of the nineteenth century. The materialists were arguing for precisely this point: that life and mind are born out of matter. From this priority of matter (the claim that matter came first), they went on — quite illegitimately — to infer matter’s primacy and self-sufficiency in the order of the universe, and to demote life and mind to a subordinate position as mere epiphenomena (surface by-products that have no real causal power), as appearances on the surface of the one true reality, matter. To borrow the figure Plato used: for them matter was the lyre, and the soul was simply the music that lyre produced; the lyre was the substantial, lasting reality and the music was just a passing product of it. Once matter was given this priority and dominance, life and soul became merely transient and embarrassed phantoms on the stage of existence. This materialism was bitterly resented and contested by those who held to spiritual values and realities. They denied not only the primacy of matter, but also its priority — they denied that life or mind sprang from it or depended on it in any real way. In effect, they denied the principle of Evolution itself, on the grounds that it undermined all the spiritual and moral values of life. Both sides — materialists and spiritualists alike — were under the spell of the rigid physical concepts of cause and effect that played such a large role in the science and philosophy of the nineteenth century. According to those concepts, an effect could contain nothing more than was already in its cause; so if matter caused the soul, the soul could contain nothing more than was already in matter. The stream could not rise higher than its source. In other words, the soul was only an apparent and not a real substantial advance on matter. The general validity of this argument was never questioned and was firmly believed in by both sides. As a result, those who affirmed the theory of Evolution tended logically to be materialists, and those who were spiritualists were logically forced to deny Evolution.
Without their knowing it the great battle raged, not over the interpretation of Evolution, but over a metaphysical theory of causation in which they both believed and were both wrong. Such is the irony of history. To-day we pick the poppies on the old battlefield of Evolution, and can afford to be fair to both sides. The essential terms have changed their meaning for us. We believe in Evolution, but it is no more the mechanical Evolution of a generation or two ago, but a creative Evolution. We believe in the growth which is really such and becomes ever more and more in the process. We believe in genesis which by its very nature is epigenesis. For us there is no such thing as static evolution, a becoming which does not become, but in its apparent permutations ever remains the same. The absolute equation of cause and effect, which was a dogma implicitly believed in by the men of that day, does not hold for us, as I shall in due course explain. The temperature has changed, the viewpoint has shifted, and to-day thoughtful men and women are sincere and convinced evolutionists, without troubling themselves over the dead and forgotten issue of materialism versus spiritualism. We accept the theory of descent, of life from matter, and of the mind from both. For educated men and women to-day Evolution is just as much part and parcel of their general outlook, of their intellectual atmosphere, so to say, as is the Copernican theory.
Without realising it, the two sides were not really fighting over the interpretation of Evolution at all. They were fighting over a metaphysical theory of causation that they both shared — and on which they were both wrong. Such is the irony of history. Today we pick the poppies on the old battlefield of Evolution and can afford to be fair to both sides. The key terms now mean something different to us. We believe in Evolution, but it is no longer the mechanical Evolution of a generation or two ago; it is creative Evolution. We believe in growth that genuinely is growth, that becomes more and more in the course of the process. We believe in genesis (origination) which by its very nature is epigenesis (a developmental process in which genuinely new structures and properties emerge step by step rather than being already pre-formed). For us there is no such thing as static evolution — a becoming that does not actually become, but only seems to change while really staying the same. The absolute equation between cause and effect, which the men of that earlier day implicitly believed in as a dogma, does not hold for us, as I will explain in due course. The temperature has changed; the vantage point has shifted; and today thoughtful men and women are sincere and convinced evolutionists without troubling themselves over the dead and forgotten quarrel of materialism versus spiritualism. We accept the theory of descent — that life came from matter, and mind from both. For educated men and women today, Evolution is just as much part and parcel of their general outlook, of the intellectual atmosphere they breathe, as the Copernican theory.
As I said before, this is a fact with very far-reaching consequences. If we believe that life and mind come from matter, if they are evolved from matter, if matter holds the promise, the potencies of life and mind, it can for us no longer be the old matter of the materialists or the physicists. The acceptance of the view for which the materialists fought so hard means in effect a complete transformation of the simple situation which they envisaged. Matter discloses a great secret; in the act of giving birth to life or mind it shows itself in an entirely unsuspected character, and it can never be the old matter again. The matter which holds the secret of life and mind is no longer the old matter which was merely the vehicle of motion and energy. The landmarks of the old order are shifting, the straight contours of the old ideas are curving, the whole situation which we are contemplating in the relations of matter, life and mind is becoming fluid instead of remaining rigid. The point to grasp and hold on to firmly is that the full and complete acceptance of Evolution must produce a great change in the significance of the fundamental concepts for us. Life and mind now, instead of being extraneous elements in the physical universe, become identified with the physical order, and they are all recognised as very much of a piece. This being so, it obviously becomes impossible thereupon to proceed to erect an all-embracing physical order in which life and mind are once more declared aliens. This cat and mouse procedure is simply a case of logical confusion. This in-and-out game will not do. If Evolution is accepted, and life and mind are developments in and from the physical order, they are in that order, and it becomes impossible to continue to envisage the physical order as purely mechanical, as one in which they have no part or lot, in which they are no real factors, and from which they should be logically excluded. If Evolution is right, if life and mind have arisen in and from matter, then the universe ceases to be a purely physical mechanism, and the system which results must provide a real place for `the factors of life and mind. To my mind there is no escape from that argument, and its implications must have a very far-reaching effect on our ideas of the physical order, and on a biology in which mechanical views are still dominant.
As I said earlier, this is a fact with very far-reaching consequences. If we believe that life and mind come from matter — if they evolved from matter, if matter holds the seeds and latent potentials of life and mind — then matter can no longer be the matter of the old materialists or physicists. Accepting the very view that the materialists fought so hard for actually means a complete transformation of the simple picture they had in mind. Matter reveals a great secret: in the act of giving birth to life or mind, it shows a wholly unsuspected character of its own, and it can never go back to being the old matter again. The matter that holds the secret of life and mind is no longer the old matter that was merely a vehicle for motion and energy. The landmarks of the old order are shifting, the straight contours of the old ideas are curving, and the whole situation we are looking at — the relations of matter, life and mind — is becoming fluid rather than rigid. The point to grasp and hold on to firmly is that the full and complete acceptance of Evolution must produce a great change in what these fundamental concepts mean for us. Life and mind, instead of being foreign elements imposed on the physical universe, become identified with the physical order — they are now seen as very much of a piece with it. That being so, it then becomes impossible to turn around and erect an all-embracing physical order in which life and mind are once again declared aliens. This cat-and-mouse procedure is simply a case of logical confusion. This in-and-out game will not do. If Evolution is accepted, and if life and mind are developments arising in and from the physical order, then they belong to that order, and it becomes impossible to keep picturing the physical order as purely mechanical — as one in which they have no part or share, in which they are not real factors and from which they should be logically excluded. If Evolution is right, if life and mind have arisen in and from matter, then the universe ceases to be a purely physical mechanism, and the system that results must provide a real place for the factors of life and mind. To my mind there is no escape from this argument, and its implications must have a very far-reaching effect on our ideas of the physical order, and on a biology in which mechanical views still dominate.
The point I have been trying to make is that our ultimate concepts need reconsideration, and that above all new view-points are necessary from which to re-survey the vast masses of physical and biological knowledge which have already accumulated. I have said that certain large dominant facts may be sufficient to lead to a new orientation of our ideas. And I have taken the accepted fact of Evolution as a case in point. The older materialists and the present day mechanical biologists have both fought hard for the acceptance of Evolution as a fact, without realising that such an acceptance must inevitably mean a transformation of their view-points, and that both the meaning of the concept of matter and the idea of the part played by mechanism in biology must be seriously affected by such acceptance. It is clear that the full significance of the great dominant idea of Evolution and its effect on the ordering of our ultimate world-view are not yet fully realised, and that we are in effect endeavouring simultaneously to go forward with two inconsistent sets of ideas, that is to say, with the idea of Evolution (not yet adequately realised) and the pre-Evolution physical ideas (not yet quite abandoned). This is, however, sheer confusion, and a clarification of our ideas and the realisation of new view-points have become necessary.
The point I have been trying to make is that our most fundamental concepts need to be rethought, and above all that we need new vantage points from which to re-survey the vast accumulated stock of physical and biological knowledge. I said that certain large dominant facts can be enough to lead to a new orientation of our ideas, and I have used the accepted fact of Evolution as a case in point. The older materialists and the present-day mechanical biologists have both fought hard for the acceptance of Evolution as a fact, without realising that such acceptance must inevitably transform their own vantage point — that both the meaning of the concept of matter and the role mechanism plays in biology must be seriously affected by it. Clearly, the full significance of the great dominant idea of Evolution — and its consequences for our ultimate world-view — have not yet been fully grasped. We are in effect trying to move forward with two inconsistent sets of ideas at once: the idea of Evolution (not yet adequately taken in) and the pre-Evolutionary physical ideas (not yet quite given up). This is sheer confusion, and a clarification of our ideas, together with the realisation of new vantage points, has become necessary.
The science of the nineteenth century was, like its philosophy, its morals, and its civilisation in general, distinguished by a certain hardness, primness and precise limitation and, demarcation of ideas. Vagueness, indefinite and blurred outlines, anything savouring of mysticism, was abhorrent to that great age of limited exactitude. The rigid categories of physics were applied to the indefinite and hazy phenomena of life and mind. Concepts were in logic as well as in science narrowed down to their most luminous points, and the rest of their contents treated as non-existent. Situations were not envisaged as a whole of clear and vague obscure elements alike, but were analysed merely into their clear, outstanding, luminous points. A " cause," for instance, was not taken as a whole situation which at a certain stage insensibly passes into another situation, called the effect. No, the most outstanding feature in the first situation was isolated and abstracted and treated as the cause of the most outstanding and striking feature of the next situation, which was called the effect. Everything between this cause and this effect was blotted out, and the two sharp ideas or rather situations of cause and effect were made to confront each other in every case of causation like two opposing forces. This logical precision immediately had the effect of making it impossible to understand how the one passed into the other in actual causation. The efficient activity, which had of old been construed on the analogy of our voluntary muscular activity, was therefore resorted to in order to supply the explanation. As the voluntary muscular movement produces external action, so material cause was supposed to produce a material effect. Even then the mind found it difficult to realise the passage from the one to the other. Every causation seemed to imply some action at a distance, unless cause and effect were in absolute contact. But we know that there is no such thing as absolute contact even in the elements of the most closely packed situation. Hence causation of this rigid type really became unintelligible. Not even the old fiction of an ether which embraced all material things, and as a vehicle made transmission of influence from one to the other possible seemed able to overcome the contradictions into which thought had landed itself through its hard and narrow concepts of cause and effect. And in fact there is no way out of the impasse but by retracing our steps and recognising that these concepts are partial and misleading abstractions. We have to return to the fluidity and plasticity of nature and experience in order to find the concepts of reality. When we do this we find that round every luminous point in experience there is a penumbra, a gradual shading off into haziness and obscurity. A " concept " is not merely its clear luminous centre, but embraces a surrounding sphere of meaning or influence of smaller or larger dimensions, in which the luminosity tails off and grows fainter until it disappears. Similarly a " thing " is not merely that which presents itself as such in clearest definite outline, but this central area is surrounded by a zone of vague sense-data and influences which shades off into the region of the indefinite. The hard and abrupt contours of our ordinary conceptual system do not apply to reality and make reality inexplicable, not only in the case of causation, but in all cases of relations between things, qualities, and ideas. Conceive of a cause as a centre with a zone of activity or influence surrounding it and shading gradually off into indefiniteness. Next conceive of an effect as similarly surrounded. It is easy in that way to understand their interaction, and to see that cause and effect are not at arm's length but interlocked, and embrace and influence each other through the interpenetration of their two fields. In fact the conception of Fields of force which has become customary in Electro-Magnetism is only a special case of a phenomenon which is quite universal in the realms of thought and reality alike. Every " thing " has its field, like itself, only more attenuated; every concept has likewise its field. It is in these fields and these fields only that things really happen. It is the intermingling of fields which is creative or causal in nature as well as in life. The hard secluded thing or concept is barren because abstract, and but for its field it could never come into real contact or into active or creative relations with any other thing or concept. Things, ideas, animals, plants, persons: all these, like physical forces, have their fields, and but for their fields they would be unintelligible, their activities would be impossible, and their relations barren and sterile. The abstract intelligence, in isolating things or ideas, and constituting them apart from their fields, and treating the latter as non-existent, has made the real concrete world of matter and of life quite unintelligible and inexplicable. The world is thus in abstraction constituted of entities which are absolutely discontinuous, with nothing between them to bridge the impassable gulfs, little or great, which separate them from each other. The world becomes to us a mere collection of disjecta membra, drained of all union or mutual relations, dead, barren, inactive, unintelligible. And in order once more to bring active relations into this scrap-heap of disconnected entities, the mind has to conjure up spirits, influences, forces and what not from the vasty deep of its own imagination. And all this is due to the initial mistake of enclosing things or ideas or persons in hard contours which are purely artificial and are not in accordance with the natural shading-off continuities which are or should be well known to science and philosophy alike. One of the most salutary reforms in thought which could be effected would be for people to accustom themselves to the idea of fields, and to look upon every concrete thing or person or even idea as merely a centre, surrounded by zones or aurae or penumbrae of the same nature as the centre, only more attenuated and shading off into indefiniteness. The concept of "fields" will be developed in subsequent chapters
Nineteenth-century science — like the philosophy, morality and civilisation of its time — was characterised by a certain hardness, primness and precise drawing of boundaries around ideas. Vagueness, indefinite or blurred outlines, anything with a hint of mysticism, was repugnant to that great age of limited exactitude. The rigid categories of physics were applied to the indefinite and hazy phenomena of life and mind. Concepts — both in logic and in science — were narrowed down to their brightest points, and the rest of their content was treated as if it didn’t exist. A situation was not viewed as a whole made up of clear and vague elements alike; it was analysed only into its clearest, most prominent features. A “cause,” for instance, was not taken to be a whole situation that at a certain stage gradually passes over into another situation we then call the effect. Instead, the most prominent feature of the first situation was isolated, abstracted out, and labelled the cause of the most prominent feature of the next situation, which was labelled the effect. Everything in between was wiped out, and the two sharp ideas — or rather, the two sharply outlined situations of cause and effect — were made to face each other in every case of causation like two opposing forces. This logical sharpness immediately made it impossible to understand how the one actually passes into the other in real causation. To explain that, people fell back on the old idea of efficient activity, modelled by analogy on our own voluntary muscular activity: just as voluntary muscular movement produces external action, so a material cause was supposed to produce a material effect. Even then, the mind found it hard to picture the passage from one to the other. Every causal interaction seemed to involve some kind of action at a distance — unless cause and effect were in absolute, unbroken contact. But we know that even within the most tightly packed situation, there is no such thing as absolute contact. So causation conceived in this rigid way really became unintelligible. Not even the old fiction of the ether (a hypothetical all-pervading medium that was supposed to fill space and carry physical influences across it) — encompassing all material things and serving as the vehicle by which influence travelled from one to another — could overcome the contradictions thought had got itself into through these hard, narrow concepts of cause and effect. The fact is that there is no way out of this dead end except by retracing our steps and recognising that these concepts are partial and misleading abstractions. We have to return to the fluidity and plasticity of nature and experience to find the real concepts of reality. When we do that, we find that around every bright point in experience there is a penumbra (a partial, fading shadow surrounding a bright centre) — a gradual shading off into haziness and obscurity. A “concept” is not just its clear, luminous centre; it includes a surrounding sphere of meaning or influence, larger or smaller, in which the brightness fades and gradually disappears. In the same way, a “thing” is not just what presents itself most sharply outlined to us; that central area is surrounded by a zone of vague sense-data and influences that shades off into the indefinite. The hard, abrupt outlines of our usual conceptual system do not match reality, and they make reality unintelligible — not just in the case of causation, but in every case of relations between things, qualities and ideas. Picture a cause as a centre with a zone of activity or influence around it that gradually fades into indefiniteness. Then picture an effect with the same kind of surrounding zone. It then becomes easy to understand their interaction: cause and effect are not at arm’s length, but interlocked, mutually embracing and influencing each other through the interpenetration of their two fields. The conception of Fields of force that has become familiar in Electro-Magnetism is in fact only a special case of something quite universal, both in thought and in reality. Every “thing” has its field — like itself, only more attenuated. Every concept has its field too. It is in these fields, and only in these fields, that things really happen. It is the intermingling of fields that is creative or causal in nature as well as in life. The hard, isolated thing or concept is barren because it is abstract; without its field it could never come into real contact, or into active or creative relations, with any other thing or concept. Things, ideas, animals, plants, persons — all of them, like physical forces, have their fields, and without those fields they would be unintelligible, their activities would be impossible, and their relations would be barren and sterile. Abstract intelligence, by isolating things or ideas, taking them out of their fields, and treating those fields as nonexistent, has made the real concrete world of matter and life quite unintelligible and inexplicable. In that abstraction, the world is built up out of entities that are absolutely discontinuous, with nothing between them to bridge the gulfs — small or large — that separate them. The world becomes for us a mere collection of disjecta membra (Latin: scattered, disconnected fragments), drained of all union or mutual relation, dead, barren, inert, unintelligible. And then, in order to bring active relations back into this scrap-heap of disconnected entities, the mind has to conjure up spirits, influences, forces and what not from the vasty deep of its own imagination. All of this is due to the initial mistake of enclosing things or ideas or persons in hard contours that are purely artificial and do not match the natural shading-off continuities that ought to be familiar to science and philosophy alike. One of the most beneficial reforms in thought we could undertake would be for people to get used to the idea of fields — to look on every concrete thing or person, or even every idea, as just a centre, surrounded by zones, auras or penumbrae of the same nature as the centre, only more attenuated and shading off into indefiniteness. The concept of “fields” will be developed in subsequent chapters.
There is one more remark I wish to make in regard to the activity of the abstract intelligence in construing our actual experience. The analytical character of thought has a far-reaching effect in obscuring the nature of reality, which has to be carefully guarded against. In order to understand and explore any concrete situation, we analyse it into its factors or elements, whose separate operation and effects are then studied, in isolation so td say. This procedure is not only quite legitimate, but the only one possible, if we wish to understand and investigate the complex groupings of nature. It is the analytical method which science has applied with such outstanding success; and but for this analysis of a complex phenomenon or situation into its separate elements and the study of these in isolation, it is fair to assume that very little progress would have been possible in the understanding of Nature with all her obscure processes. When the isolated elements or factors of the complex situation have been separately studied, they are recombined in order to reconstitute the original situation. Two sources of error here become possible. In the first place, in the original analysis something may have escaped, so that in the reconstruction we have no longer all the original elements present, but something less. I have already shown how " fields " escape in our view of things and even in concepts. The same happens in regard to the elements into which a situation is analysed. And it is certain that in every case of analysis and reconstitution of a concrete situation something escapes which makes the artificial situation as reconstructed different from the original situation which was to be explored and explained. An element of more or less error has entered. This may be called the error of analysis.
There is one more remark I wish to make about how abstract intelligence handles our actual experience. The analytical character of thought has a far-reaching effect that obscures the nature of reality, and we have to be careful to guard against it. To understand and explore any concrete situation, we break it down into its factors or elements and study how each operates and what it does on its own — in isolation, so to speak. This procedure is not only entirely legitimate, it is the only one possible if we want to understand and investigate the complex groupings nature offers. It is the analytical method that science has used with such outstanding success; without breaking complex phenomena or situations into separate elements and studying those in isolation, very little progress would have been possible in understanding nature’s many obscure processes. Once the isolated elements or factors of a complex situation have been studied separately, they are recombined to reconstitute the original situation. Two sources of error then become possible. First, the original analysis may have left something out, so that in the reconstruction we no longer have all the original elements present, but something less. I have already shown how “fields” escape from our view of things, and even of concepts. The same thing happens to the elements into which a situation is analysed. It is certain that in every case of analysing and then reconstituting a concrete situation, something escapes — making the artificially reconstructed situation different from the original one we set out to explore and explain. An element of more or less error has crept in. This may be called the error of analysis.
In the second place, we are apt after the analysis and investigation of the isolated elements or factors to look upon them as the natural factors of the situation, and upon the situation itself as a sort of result brought about by them. The abstract analytical elements thus become the real operative entities, while the concrete situation or phenomenon to be explained becomes their product or resultant. As a matter of fact, just the opposite is the case. We start in nature with the complex situation or sensible phenomenon as the reality to be explained. The analytical elements or factors are merely the result of analysis, and might even be merely abstractions. But because they are simpler and admit of closer scrutiny and experiment, we have come to look upon them as real or constitutive, and upon the situation from which they were abstracted or analysed, as artificial or constituted. Thus it has come about that in physical science, for instance, the elements of matter or force into which bodies have been analysed -have tended to become the reals. Thus scientific entities like electrons and protons, and the physical energies or forces which they represent, are taken to be the real entities in nature, and sensible matter or bodies as something derivative and merely resulting from their activities. The abstract thus becomes the real, the concrete is relegated to a secondary position. This inversion of reality is very much the same procedure as was followed by the scholastic and other philosophers who attributed reality to universals instead of to concrete particulars. This may be called the error of abstraction or generalisation. Against both these forms of error we have to guard, if we wish faithfully to interpret Nature as we experience her.
Second, after we have analysed and investigated the isolated elements or factors, we tend to look on them as the natural factors of the situation, and on the situation itself as a kind of result that they produce. The abstract analytical elements thus come to be regarded as the real, operative entities, while the concrete situation or phenomenon we set out to explain becomes their product or outcome. As a matter of fact, the truth is the reverse. We start in nature with a complex situation or sensible phenomenon as the reality to be explained. The analytical elements or factors are merely the result of analysis, and may even be sheer abstractions. But because they are simpler and lend themselves to closer scrutiny and experiment, we have come to treat them as the real or constitutive things, and the situation from which they were abstracted as something artificial, something produced by them. So in physical science, for example, the elements of matter or force into which bodies have been analysed have come to be regarded as the reals. Scientific entities like electrons and protons, and the physical energies or forces they represent, are taken to be the real entities in nature, while sensible matter or bodies are seen as something derivative — a mere consequence of their activities. The abstract has become the real; the concrete has been demoted to a secondary position. This inversion of reality is very much like the move made by the scholastic and other philosophers who attributed reality to universals (general categories or kinds) rather than to concrete particular things. This may be called the error of abstraction or generalisation. Both forms of error must be guarded against if we wish to interpret nature faithfully as we experience her.
Analysis, abstraction and generalisation are indeed necessary as instruments of scientific understanding, but they also necessarily involve a departure from the complex concrete, and thus produce a possible element of error which in its ultimate effects may produce a serious distortion in our general view of reality. The concrete whole of a situation comes to be deduced from its abstract parts, and the principle of natural explanation thus proceeds by way of the parts to the whole. The whole as so understood is confined to its parts and comes to suffer from the same limitations as its parts. For the full concrete reality comes to be substituted a more limited scheme or pattern of parts, an aggregation rather than a natural organic synthesis.
Analysis, abstraction and generalisation are indeed indispensable as instruments of scientific understanding, but they also necessarily involve a departure from the complex concrete — and so they introduce a possible element of error which, in its ultimate effects, may seriously distort our overall view of reality. The concrete whole of a situation comes to be deduced from its abstract parts, so that the principle of natural explanation proceeds from the parts to the whole. The whole, understood in this way, is reduced to its parts and made to suffer from the same limitations as those parts. In place of the full concrete reality we are given a more limited scheme or pattern of parts — an aggregation rather than a natural organic synthesis.
Our object in studying and interpreting Nature is to be faithful to our experience of her. We do not want to recreate Nature in our own image or abstract thought scheme, and as far as possible we wish to eliminate errors of observation or construction which are due to us as observers. We do not wish to spread Nature on a sort of Procrustes bed of our concepts and cut off here and there what appears surplus or unnecessary or even non-existent to our subjective standards. Our experience is largely fluid and plastic, with little that is rigid and with much that is indefinite about it. We should as far as possible withstand the temptation to pour this plastic experience into the moulds of our hard and narrow preconceived notions, and even at the risk of failing to explain precisely all that we experience we should be modest and loyal in the handling of that experience. In that way a good deal of what we have hitherto felt certain may once more become uncertain; the solid and recognised landmarks may once more become blurred or shifting; the stable results of nineteenth-century science may once more become unstable and uncertain. But the way will be open for the truer constructions of the future, and the foundations of our future science will be more deeply and securely laid.
Our aim in studying and interpreting nature is to be faithful to our experience of her. We do not want to recreate nature in our own image or in our own abstract conceptual scheme, and as far as possible we want to eliminate the errors of observation or construction that come from us as observers. We do not want to lay nature on a Procrustes bed (an arbitrary standard onto which things are forced to fit, named for the mythological bandit who stretched or amputated his guests so they would fit his bed exactly) of our concepts and lop off, here and there, whatever appears surplus or unnecessary or even non-existent according to our own subjective standards. Our experience is largely fluid and plastic, with little that is rigid and much that is indefinite about it. As far as possible, we should resist the temptation to pour this plastic experience into the moulds of our hard, narrow preconceived notions. Even at the risk of failing to give a precise account of everything we experience, we should be modest and faithful in how we handle that experience. In doing so, much of what we have until now felt certain about may once again become uncertain; the solid and recognised landmarks may once again become blurred or shifting; the stable findings of nineteenth-century science may once again become unstable and uncertain. But the way will then be open for the truer constructions of the future, and the foundations of our future science will be more deeply and securely laid.
In the following chapters a modest effort will be made to apply the above ideas and principles to a new interpretation of Nature, including, as it does, Matter, Life, Mind, and Personality. Matter, Life, and Mind, so far from being discontinuous and disparate, will appear as a more or less connected progressive series of the same great Process. And this Process will be shown to underlie and account for the characters of all three, and to give to Evolution, both inorganic and organic, both psychical and spiritual, a fundamental unity and continuity which it does not seem to possess according to current scientific and philosophical ideas. 1
In the following chapters a modest attempt will be made to apply the ideas and principles set out above to a new interpretation of nature, including (as it does) Matter, Life, Mind and Personality. Far from being discontinuous and disparate, Matter, Life and Mind will appear as a more or less connected, progressive series within one and the same great Process. And this Process will be shown to underlie and account for the characters of all three, and to give to Evolution — inorganic and organic, psychical and spiritual alike — a fundamental unity and continuity that it does not seem to possess on the current scientific and philosophical view. [1]
1 It is interesting to note how Professor A. N. Whitehead in his Science and the Modern World deals with the situation which I have tried to meet by means of the concept of " fields." He also takes the view that the thing or event taken by itself in its spatial limits is a false simplification, which he calls the fallacy of Misplaced Concreteness. According to him, the mistake is due to the assumption of the simple location of things or events, in other words, to the mistaken belief that a thing or event, as it appears in a definite space at a certain time, is all there is of it, and that it has nothing to do with other spaces or other times. This mistake of simple location is therefore identical with that pointed out above of confining a thing or event to its apparent spatial contours or boundaries, with nothing of it beyond them. I--following the lead of physical science-- attempt to remedy the mistake by extending the thing or event into its " field " beyond these contours or boundaries. Professor Whitehead proceeds in a more radical way by a re-examination of the status of Space-Time in relation to things and events. In this way he arrives at the result that a thing or event is not confined to its own simple Space--Time location, and is thus not itself alone, but that it reflects the aspects of all other things and events from its particular standpoint, and thus in a sense involves their locations also. In the larger context of nature the thing or event is, therefore, a synthesis of itself with the aspects or perspectives of everything else as mirrored from its standpoint. Whitehead's searching analysis leads to results which closely resemble those of Leibniz's Monadology, and involve a radical transformation of current practical and scientific concepts. The alternative concept of "fields," while less revolutionary and simpler to understand, seems to meet the purpose in view sufficiently well. On both views a thing or event transcends its apparent limits. That the popular view of " simple location " involves a most insidious and far-reaching error of abstraction is common ground to both Professor Whitehead and myself.
[1] It is interesting to note how Professor A. N. Whitehead, in his Science and the Modern World, deals with the very situation I have tried to address by means of the concept of “fields.” He too takes the view that to treat a thing or event by itself, within its spatial limits, is a false simplification — one he calls the fallacy of Misplaced Concreteness. According to him, the mistake comes from assuming the simple location of things or events; in other words, from the mistaken belief that a thing or event, as it appears at a definite place at a certain time, is all there is of it, and that it has nothing to do with other places or other times. This mistake of simple location is therefore identical with the one I noted above — confining a thing or event to its apparent spatial outlines or boundaries, with nothing of it beyond them. Following the lead of physical science, I try to remedy the mistake by extending the thing or event into its “field” beyond those contours or boundaries. Professor Whitehead proceeds in a more radical way, by re-examining the status of Space-Time in relation to things and events. By that route he arrives at the conclusion that a thing or event is not confined to its own simple Space-Time location, and so is not by itself alone, but rather mirrors the aspects of all other things and events from its particular standpoint — and so, in a sense, takes their locations in too. In the larger context of nature, the thing or event is therefore a synthesis of itself with the aspects or perspectives of everything else, as reflected from its own standpoint. Whitehead’s searching analysis leads to results that closely resemble those of Leibniz’s Monadology (the philosophical doctrine that reality is composed of simple, indivisible substances called monads, each of which mirrors the entire universe from its own unique perspective), and they involve a radical transformation of our current practical and scientific concepts. The alternative concept of “fields,” though less revolutionary and easier to understand, seems to do the job adequately for our purposes. On either view, a thing or event extends beyond its apparent limits. That the popular view of “simple location” involves a most insidious and far-reaching error of abstraction is common ground between Professor Whitehead and myself.