Mysticism and logic by Bertrand Russel. - HTML preview

provided it has been before my mind, and will be again whenever

occasion arises. This is the same sense in which I am said to know

that 2+2=4 even when I am thinking of something else. In the second

place, the word _acquaintance_ is designed to emphasise, more than the

word _presentation_, the relational character of the fact with which

we are concerned. There is, to my mind, a danger that, in speaking of

presentation, we may so emphasis the object as to lose sight of the

subject. The result of this is either to lead to the view that there

is no subject, whence we arrive at materialism; or to lead to the view

that what is presented is part of the subject, whence we arrive at

idealism, and should arrive at solipsism but for the most desperate

contortions. Now I wish to preserve the dualism of subject and object

in my terminology, because this dualism seems to me a fundamental fact

concerning cognition. Hence I prefer the word _acquaintance_ because

it emphasises the need of a subject which is acquainted.

When we ask what are the kinds of objects with which we are

acquainted, the first and most obvious example is _sense-data_. When I

see a colour or hear a noise, I have direct acquaintance with the

colour or the noise. The sense-datum with which I am acquainted in

these cases is generally, if not always, complex. This is

particularly obvious in the case of sight. I do not mean, of course,

merely that the supposed physical object is complex, but that the

direct sensible object is complex and contains parts with spatial

relations. Whether it is possible to be aware of a complex without

being aware of its constituents is not an easy question, but on the

whole it would seem that there is no reason why it should not be

possible. This question arises in an acute form in connection with

self-consciousness, which we must now briefly consider.

In introspection, we seem to be immediately aware of varying

complexes, consisting of objects in various cognitive and conative

relations to ourselves. When I see the sun, it often happens that I

am aware of my seeing the sun, in addition to being aware of the sun;

and when I desire food, it often happens that I am aware of my desire

for food. But it is hard to discover any state of mind in which I am

aware of myself alone, as opposed to a complex of which I am a

constituent. The question of the nature of self-consciousness is too

large and too slightly connected with our subject, to be argued at

length here. It is difficult, but probably not impossible, to account

for plain facts if we assume that we do not have acquaintance with

ourselves. It is plain that we are not only _acquainted_

with the

complex "Self-acquainted-with-A," but we also _know_ the proposition

"I am acquainted with A." Now here the complex has been analysed, and

if "I" does not stand for something which is a direct object of

acquaintance, we shall have to suppose that "I" is something known by

description. If we wished to maintain the view that there is no

acquaintance with Self, we might argue as follows: We are acquainted

with _acquaintance_, and we know that it is a relation.

Also we are

acquainted with a complex in which we perceive that acquaintance is

the relating relation. Hence we know that this complex must have a

constituent which is that which is acquainted, i.e. must have a

subject-term as well as an object-term. This subject-term we define

as "I." Thus "I" means "the subject-term in awarenesses of which _I_

am aware." But as a definition this cannot be regarded as a happy

effort. It would seem necessary, therefore, either to suppose that I

am acquainted with myself, and that "I," therefore, requires no

definition, being merely the proper name of a certain object, or to

find some other analysis of self-consciousness. Thus self-consciousness

cannot be regarded as throwing light on the question whether we can

know a complex without knowing its constituents. This question,

however, is not important for our present purposes, and I shall

therefore not discuss it further.

The awarenesses we have considered so far have all been awarenesses of

particular existents, and might all in a large sense be called

sense-data. For, from the point of view of theory of knowledge,

introspective knowledge is exactly on a level with knowledge derived

from sight or hearing. But, in addition to awareness of the above kind

of objects, which may be called awareness of _particulars_; we have

also (though not quite in the same sense) what may be called awareness

of _universals_. Awareness of universals is called _conceiving_, and a

universal of which we are aware is called a _concept_.

Not only are we

aware of particular yellows, but if we have seen a sufficient number

of yellows and have sufficient intelligence, we are aware of the

universal _yellow_; this universal is the subject in such judgments as

"yellow differs from blue" or "yellow resembles blue less than green

does." And the universal yellow is the predicate in such judgments as

"this is yellow," where "this" is a particular sense-datum. And

universal relations, too, are objects of awarenesses; up and down,

before and after, resemblance, desire, awareness itself, and so on,

would seem to be all of them objects of which we can be aware.

In regard to relations, it might be urged that we are never aware of

the universal relation itself, but only of complexes in which it is a

constituent. For example, it may be said that we do not know directly

such a relation as _before_, though we understand such a proposition

as "this is before that," and may be directly aware of such a complex

as "this being before that." This view, however, is difficult to

reconcile with the fact that we often know propositions in which the

relation is the subject, or in which the relata are not definite given

objects, but "anything." For example, we know that if one thing is

before another, and the other before a third, then the first is before

the third; and here the things concerned are not definite things, but

"anything." It is hard to see how we could know such a fact about

"before" unless we were acquainted with "before," and not merely with

actual particular cases of one given object being before another given

object. And more directly: A judgment such as "this is before that,"

where this judgment is derived from awareness of a complex,

constitutes an analysis, and we should not understand the analysis if

we were not acquainted with the meaning of the terms employed. Thus we

must suppose that we are acquainted with the meaning of

"before," and

not merely with instances of it.

There are thus at least two sorts of objects of which we are aware,

namely, particulars and universals. Among particulars I include all

existents, and all complexes of which one or more constituents are

existents, such as this-before-that, this-above-that, the-yellowness-of-this. Among universals I include all objects of

which no particular is a constituent. Thus the disjunction

"universal-particular" includes all objects. We might also call it the

disjunction "abstract-concrete." It is not quite parallel with the

opposition "concept-percept," because things remembered or imagined

belong with particulars, but can hardly be called percepts. (On the

other hand, universals with which we are acquainted may be identified

with concepts.)

It will be seen that among the objects with which we are acquainted

are not included physical objects (as opposed to sense-data), nor

other people's minds. These things are known to us by what I call

"knowledge by description," which we must now consider.

By a "description" I mean any phrase of the form "a so-and-so" or "the

so-and-so." A phrase of the form "a so-and-so" I shall call an

"ambiguous" description; a phrase of the form "the so-and-so" (in the

singular) I shall call a "definite" description. Thus "a man" is an

ambiguous description, and "the man with the iron mask"

is a definite

description. There are various problems connected with ambiguous

descriptions, but I pass them by, since they do not directly concern

the matter I wish to discuss. What I wish to discuss is the nature of

our knowledge concerning objects in cases where we know that there is

an object answering to a definite description, though we are not

_acquainted_ with any such object. This is a matter which is concerned

exclusively with _definite_ descriptions. I shall, therefore, in the

sequel, speak simply of "descriptions" when I mean

"definite

descriptions." Thus a description will mean any phrase of the form

"the so-and-so" in the singular.

I shall say that an object is "known by description"

when we know that

it is "_the_ so-and-so," i.e. when we know that there is one object,

and no more, having a certain property; and it will generally be

implied that we do not have knowledge of the same object by

acquaintance. We know that the man with the iron mask existed, and

many propositions are known about him; but we do not know who he was.

We know that the candidate who gets most votes will be elected, and in

this case we are very likely also acquainted (in the only sense in

which one can be acquainted with some one else) with the man who is,

in fact, the candidate who will get most votes, but we do not know

which of the candidates he is, i.e. we do not know any proposition of

the form "A is the candidate who will get most votes"

where A is one

of the candidates by name. We shall say that we have

"_merely_

descriptive knowledge" of the so-and-so when, although we know that

the so-and-so exists, and although we may possibly be acquainted with

the object which is, in fact, the so-and-so, yet we do not know any

proposition "_a_ is the so-and-so," where _a_ is something with which

we are acquainted.

When we say "the so-and-so exists," we mean that there is just one

object which is the so-and-so. The proposition "_a_ is the so-and-so"

means that _a_ has the property so-and-so, and nothing else has. "Sir

Joseph Larmor is the Unionist candidate" means "Sir Joseph Larmor is a

Unionist candidate, and no one else is." "The Unionist candidate

exists" means "some one is a Unionist candidate, and no one else is."

Thus, when we are acquainted with an object which we know to be the

so-and-so, we know that the so-and-so exists but we may know that the

so-and-so exists when we are not acquainted with any object which we

know to be the so-and-so, and even when we are not acquainted with any

object which, in fact, is the so-and-so.

Common words, even proper names, are usually really descriptions. That

is to say, the thought in the mind of a person using a proper name

correctly can generally only be expressed explicitly if we replace the

proper name by a description. Moreover, the description required to

express the thought will vary for different people, or for the same

person at different times. The only thing constant (so long as the

name is rightly used) is the object to which the name applies. But so

long as this remains constant, the particular description involved

usually makes no difference to the truth or falsehood of the

proposition in which the name appears.

Let us take some illustrations. Suppose some statement made about

Bismarck. Assuming that there is such a thing as direct acquaintance

with oneself, Bismarck himself might have used his name directly to

designate the particular person with whom he was acquainted. In this

case, if he made a judgment about himself, he himself might be a

constituent of the judgment. Here the proper name has the direct use

which it always wishes to have, as simply standing for a certain

object, and not for a description of the object. But if a person who

knew Bismarck made a judgment about him, the case is different. What

this person was acquainted with were certain sense-data which he

connected (rightly, we will suppose) with Bismarck's body. His body as

a physical object, and still more his mind, were only known as the

body and the mind connected with these sense-data. That is, they were

known by description. It is, of course, very much a matter of chance

which characteristics of a man's appearance will come into a friend's

mind when he thinks of him; thus the description actually in the

friend's mind is accidental. The essential point is that he knows that

the various descriptions all apply to the same entity, in spite of

not being acquainted with the entity in question.

When we, who did not know Bismarck, make a judgment about him, the

description in our minds will probably be some more or less vague mass

of historical knowledge--far more, in most cases, than is required to

identify him. But, for the sake of illustration, let us assume that we

think of him as "the first Chancellor of the German Empire." Here all

the words are abstract except "German." The word

"German" will again

have different meanings for different people. To some it will recall

travels in Germany, to some the look of Germany on the map, and so on.

But if we are to obtain a description which we know to be applicable,

we shall be compelled, at some point, to bring in a reference to a

particular with which we are acquainted. Such reference is involved in

any mention of past, present, and future (as opposed to definite

dates), or of here and there, or of what others have told us. Thus it

would seem that, in some way or other, a description known to be

applicable to a particular must involve some reference to a particular

with which we are acquainted, if our knowledge about the thing

described is not to be merely what follows logically from the

description. For example, "the most long-lived of men"

is a

description which must apply to some man, but we can make no judgments

concerning this man which involve knowledge about him beyond what the

description gives. If, however, we say, "the first Chancellor of the

German Empire was an astute diplomatist," we can only be assured of

the truth of our judgment in virtue of something with which we are

acquainted--usually a testimony heard or read.

Considered

psychologically, apart from the information we convey to others, apart

from the fact about the actual Bismarck, which gives importance to

our judgment, the thought we really have contains the one or more

particulars involved, and otherwise consists wholly of concepts. All

names of places--London, England, Europe, the earth, the Solar

System--similarly involve, when used, descriptions which start from

some one or more particulars with which we are acquainted. I suspect

that even the Universe, as considered by metaphysics, involves such a

connection with particulars. In logic, on the contrary, where we are

concerned not merely with what does exist, but with whatever might or

could exist or be, no reference to actual particulars is involved.

It would seem that, when we make a statement about something only

known by description, we often _intend_ to make our statement, not in

the form involving the description, but about the actual thing

described. That is to say, when we say anything about Bismarck, we

should like, if we could, to make the judgment which Bismarck alone

can make, namely, the judgment of which he himself is a constituent.

In this we are necessarily defeated, since the actual Bismarck is

unknown to us. But we know that there is an object B

called Bismarck,

and that B was an astute diplomatist. We can thus _describe_ the

proposition we should like to affirm, namely, "B was an astute

diplomatist," where B is the object which was Bismarck.

What enables

us to communicate in spite of the varying descriptions we employ is

that we know there is a true proposition concerning the actual

Bismarck, and that, however we may vary the description (so long as

the description is correct), the proposition described is still the

same. This proposition, which is described and is known to be true, is

what interests us; but we are not acquainted with the proposition

itself, and do not know _it_, though we know it is true.

It will be seen that there are various stages in the removal from

acquaintance with particulars: there is Bismarck to people who knew

him, Bismarck to those who only know of him through history, the man

with the iron mask, the longest-lived of men. These are progressively

further removed from acquaintance with particulars, and there is a

similar hierarchy in the region of universals. Many universals, like

many particulars, are only known to us by description.

But here, as in

the case of particulars, knowledge concerning what is known by

description is ultimately reducible to knowledge concerning what is

known by acquaintance.

The fundamental epistemological principle in the analysis of

propositions containing descriptions is this: _Every proposition which

we can understand must be composed wholly of constituents with which

we are acquainted._ From what has been said already, it will be plain

why I advocate this principle, and how I propose to meet the case of

propositions which at first sight contravene it. Let us begin with the

reasons for supposing the principle true.

The chief reason for supposing the principle true is that it seems

scarcely possible to believe that we can make a judgment or entertain

a supposition without knowing what it is that we are judging or

supposing about. If we make a judgment about (say) Julius Cæsar, it is

plain that the actual person who was Julius Cæsar is not a constituent

of the judgment. But before going further, it may be well to explain

what I mean when I say that this or that is a constituent of a

judgment, or of a proposition which we understand. To begin with

judgments: a judgment, as an occurrence, I take to be a relation of a

mind to several entities, namely, the entities which compose what is

judged. If, e.g. I judge that A loves B, the judgment as an event

consists in the existence, at a certain moment, of a specific

four-term relation, called _judging_, between me and A and love and B.

That is to say, at the time when I judge, there is a certain complex

whose terms are myself and A and love and B, and whose relating

relation is _judging_. My reasons for this view have been set forth

elsewhere,[41] and I shall not repeat them here.

Assuming this view of

judgment, the constituents of the judgment are simply the constituents

of the complex which is the judgment. Thus, in the above case, the

constituents are myself and A and love and B and judging. But myself

and judging are constituents shared by all my judgments; thus the

_distinctive_ constituents of the particular judgment in question are

A and love and B. Coming now to what is meant by

"understanding a

proposition," I should say that there is another relation possible

between me and A and love and B, which is called my _supposing_ that A

loves B.[42] When we can _suppose_ that A loves B, we

"understand the

proposition" _A loves B_. Thus we often understand a proposition in

cases where we have not enough knowledge to make a judgment.

Supposing, like judging, is a many-term relation, of which a mind is

one term. The other terms of the relation are called the constituents

of the proposition supposed. Thus the principle which I enunciated may

be re-stated as follows: _Whenever a relation of supposing or judging

occurs, the terms to which the supposing or judging mind is related by

the relation of supposing or judging must be terms with which the mind

in question is acquainted._ This is merely to say that we cannot make

a judgment or a supposition without knowing what it is that we are

making our judgment or supposition about. It seems to me that the

truth of this principle is evident as soon as the principle is

understood; I shall, therefore, in what follows, assume the principle,

and use it as a guide in analysing judgments that contain

descriptions.

Returning now to Julius Cæsar, I assume that it will be admitted that

he himself is not a constituent of any judgment which I can make. But

at this point it is necessary to examine the view that judgments are

composed of something called "ideas," and that it is the

"idea" of

Julius Cæsar that is a constituent of my judgment. I believe the

plausibility of this view rests upon a failure to form a right theory

of descriptions. We may mean by my "idea" of Julius Cæsar the things

that I know about him, e.g. that he conquered Gaul, was assassinated

on the Ides of March, and is a plague to schoolboys. Now I am

admitting, and indeed contending, that in order to discover what is

actually in my mind when I judge about Julius Cæsar, we must

substitute for the proper name a description made up of some of the

things I know about him. (A description which will often serve to

express my thought is "the man whose name was _Julius Cæsar_." For

whatever else I may have forgotten about him, it is plain that when I

mention him I have not forgotten that that was his name.) But although

I think the theory that judgments consist of ideas may have been

suggested in some such way, yet I think the theory itself is

fundamentally mistaken. The view seems to be that there is some

mental existent which may be called the "idea" of something outside

the mind of the person who has the idea, and that, since judgment is a

mental event, its constituents must be constituents of the mind of the

person judging. But in this view ideas become a veil between us and

outside things--we never really, in knowledge, attain to the things we

are supposed to be knowing about, but only to the ideas of those

things. The relation of mind, idea, and object, on this view, is

utterly obscure, and, so far as I can see, nothing discoverable by

inspection warrants the intrusion of the idea between the mind and the

object. I suspect that the view is fostered by the dislike of

relations, and that it is felt the mind could not know objects unless

there were something "in" the mind which could be called the state of

knowing the object. Such a view, however, leads at once to a vicious

endless regress, since the relation of idea to object will have to be

explained by supposing that the idea itself has an idea of the object,

and so on _ad infinitum_. I therefore see no reason to believe that,

when we are acquainted with an object, there is in us something which

can be called the "idea" of the object. On the contrary, I hold that

acquaintance is wholly a relation, not demanding any such constituent

of the mind as is supposed by advocates of "ideas." This is, of

course, a large question, and one which would take us far from our

subject if it were adequately discussed. I therefore content myself

with the above indications, and with the corollary that, in judging,

the actual objects concerning which we judge, rather than any supposed

purely mental entities, are constituents of the complex which is the

judgment.

When, therefore, I say that we must substitute for

"Julius Cæsar" some

description of Julius Cæsar, in order to discover the meaning of a