I have only a few hours in which to give a brief exposition of my views. This is difficult. Therefore, I am not certain that I myself shall be satisfied with what I write. For the sake of speed, I am writing in Russian. I make no claim to a systematic presentation. Incidentally, philosophy is not really obliged to be a system. I shall readily concede that it cannot become a system. One of the most important problems is that of the validity of our knowledge. This problem interests me more than all the others. We like to divide things into "yes" and "no"-probably because this is the simplest way. It is achieved by a single act of division, resulting in two spheres corresponding to yes" and "no." In the same way, a straight line bisects a plane. We apply this division in many instances. We desire some kind of practical result, and we divide the sphere of all possible assumptions into two parts. One corresponds to "yes"; the other to "no." We adopt the assumptions of the first part (as favorable), but reject those of the second. We explore reality and also divide the sphere of possible assumptions into two parts corresponding to "yes" and "no." We accept the hypotheses of the first part as reality, but reject those of the second. Besides, we very often forget that these two divisions differ from one another, and as a result we adopt as reality that which is favorable. The fallacies of the vicious circle or petitio principii are very natural, probably just for this reason. They are related to a striving for simplicity, as a result of which the desired is accepted as reality. The very logic behind such a simple division into two parts is no more than a mere hypothesis. People were accustomed to it long before they had learned to recognize it as a hypothesis. Actually, both reality and ideas are amorphous; i.e., they are diffuse and (in general) have no defined limits. The belief in defined limits is connected with our belief in personal concepts. This belief is not obligatory. Neither is the principle of tertium non datur obligatory in this connection. In nontrivial cases, this principle does not merit any trust. But this should not discourage us. Deep convictions are also possible within the terms of diffuse concepts. For instance, we are convinced that the statement 2 x 2 = 4 is true, despite the fact that the concept of truth is diffuse. I also grant there may be "discreet" situations when tertium non datur or an analogous principle is applied. But it is conceivable that the very possibility of such situations is the result of idealization. In "uninterrupted" instances, which are most natural, the depth of conviction will usually diminish as it approaches the subject of the clause which expresses it-"the center," i.e., the actually nonexistent area where we should like to draw the boundary line. If we admit the unconvincing nature of debatable propositions which arise in this manner, then many, if not all, contradictions will probably disappear. If Hegel and his followers had understood this better, they would probably not have erected the principle of identity expressed in the formula A D A [if A, then A]. As regards the A's, which are sufficiently convincing in themselves (as in the example cited above), this principle is evident in the assumption that we are capable of thinking. (But let skepticism flourish!) The so-called "unity of contradictions" or the possibility of their gradual transition from one to the other, characterized as "the transition of quantity into quality," is quite a different thing. The time has come to speak of these things in the language of the twentieth century. It is difficult to subject many convictions to analysis because of the unsuitability of our language, which -alas!-was developed least of all for philosophical interchange. This unsuitability of language engenders many "pseudo problems" which, however, by virtue of their obtrusiveness, manage to merit the honorary title of "eternal issues." As long as we have not achieved clarity in the comprehension of these things, we should not dismiss these pseudo problems. I shall enumerate the most important ones. 1. The reality of being. Doubt in reality is expressed in the Cartesian principle that everything is doubtful except cogito ergo sum. Berkeley's solipsism is a logical continuation of this. The ignorant scoff in vain at it. Collective laughter proves absolutely nothing, even when such persons as Bertrand Russell, not to mention Lenin, are included in the crowd. I shall not repeat well-known facts. The position of "isomorphism" between solipsism and realism is well known. To be more specific: from the point of view of realism, the imperceptible is possible, since this isomorphism does not extend to it. At an early age - if not in my childhood - I experienced doubts concerning the principle of realism. This does not demonstrate the depth of my mind, but rather points to the natural character of this doubt, with which every man with an independent mind must be endowed. At the age of sixteen, I broke with my belief in realism and never again returned to it. At about the age of twenty, I adopted the viewpoint of isomorphism (with the above-mentioned reservation). And in another three years or so, I had evaluated all this as a pseudo problem. I have long ceased to insist on any of these viewpoints. The logical possibilities here are innumerable. In analysis, it is useful to regard the phrase "it seems to me" as a logical operator, and then to develop a corresponding formal logic. I think that the possibilities here are no fewer than in the case of the construction of the modal systems of Lewis, Von Wright, Parry,* and others. In view of the logical insolubility of the problem, the position of agnosticism is here fairly closely and logically allied with the position of solipsism. If prejudices be discarded, then it must be admitted that complete clarity has not yet been achieved in this question, probably because of the backwardness of logic and the inappropriateness of our customary language. Intuition usually makes us lean toward realism, but here we must not trust intuition until such time as it has been emancipated from language. It is difficult to imagine a cruder error than to mix solipsism with idealism. And there is no cruder device than to refer to the "unconscientiousness" of Berkeley, whose arguments may, of course, be directed against the belief in God as well as against the belief in matter. In our age, Descartes' cogito ergo sum should not be considered as "the foremost and truest of all sciences," since it is time we admitted the complex nature of the concepts of ego and sum (in general, "to exist")
2. Materialism. Having emancipated themselves from belief in God, people have fallen into the other extreme- materialism. This has come about according to the principle of tertium non datur, as applied in its crudest form. Actually, here we have a very tangible "third." I term a phenomenon "material" if it is perceived through the sensory organs (in modern science, the readings of instruments are added to "the senses," and, in conformity with this, the concept of "materiality" can be expanded). I term a phenomenon "spiritual' if it is perceived through the aid of the intellect. (This does not exclude the possibility that the senses may also be used - for instance, sight for the reading of a book in which ideas are set forth. The problem of the Fremdenpsychisches is involved here, but, ultimately, the analysis is not very complex. In altering the conception of ego and in attributing ego to the actually thinking subject rather than to the biological individual, we shall in all probability be able to abstract ourselves from the part played by the sensory organs in the cognition of these phenomena, just as, during the logical analysis of ideas, we abstract ourselves from the processes occurring in the brain. Cybernetics should contribute far greater clarity to this question, and perhaps it has already done so.) I call a phenomenon "psychical" if it is perceived directly as an emotion, or if it is not perceived at all. This classification does not claim to be definitive. However, it is better than that crude dyadic classification of all phenomena into "material" and "spiritual," to which the Marxists-and not they alone-have devoted a quantity of not very profound exercises. Nor is this classification new. For instance, in the last century, Vladimir Solov'yev expounded on something very near it, and in our day, Carnap, who, if my memory does not deceive me, also referred to Dilthey (in connection with a corresponding classification of sciences). Here is an example of the difference between the spiritual and the psychical: When Dante was writing his Comedy, he experienced a psychical process usually called "inspiration." When this work became part of literature (under the title of The Divine Comedy), the phenomenon had already become spiritual. In the spirit of nominalism, one may, of course, dispute the existence of this phenomenon and merely speak of that which, from a realistic (in the scholastic sense of the word) point of view, is a "manifestation of this essence -i.e., simply of those psychical processes which occur with readers and subsequent authors. To act thus amounts to a refusal to study the essential role of this poem in the development of literature. This is why I do not wish to act thus, despite my full adherence to nominalism in other instances. Materialism consists in the conviction that all phenomena may be reduced to the material state. That this very reduction is unthinkable without the aid of the intellect is bashfully ignored. But I wish to examine critically this belief in the possibility of such a reduction. In essence, this belief affirms that everything that can be thought can, in the last analysis, be seen or touched. This is, so to say, a belief in the eyes and hands. Very often this is undoubtedly useful, but here it is refined to the point of loss of consciousness. Chess is played according to definite speculative rules. The fact that it is played on a board is immaterial. In fact, it is not even necessary, as everyone knows who has played a chess game blindfolded, or watched such a game. The physiological processes, which occur in the player's brain, may accompany the psychical process of the game. They are material, whereas the rules of the game are spiritual, so that all three types of phenomena fuse here into one. Are the psychical processes here determined by material ones? Let us assume that the player may take a pawn on D-5 with a bishop or a knight. He thinks that material processes are taking place. But he wins the pawn according to the chess rules, which he knows and which are spiritual. Just how successfully he applies them may depend on his psychical condition and, thereby, in its turn, also on material causes (for instance, on the distinction in the properties of vodka or coffee, if he drank either of these before the game). But all his psychical processes must adjust to such a spiritual factor as the rules of the game; otherwise he simply will not be able to play. Logically, such a degree of harmony between these three kinds of processes makes it conceivable that everything would actually be reduced to one kind of process, and in that case "matter" could apparently claim the universality of its role. From this circumstance, perhaps, the materialists draw their reliance on the validity of their doctrine. However, the belief in such harmony (founded, incidentally, not by the materialists-let us recall Leibnitz) is no more obligatory than belief in God. Do we conceive of a law by which such a reduction could take place?o Let us attempt to imagine its formulation. It must be applicable in every instance (since it is a question of a law), including also our example. Therefore, it must include a formulation of the interrelation which exists between the physiological brain processes and the chess rules. Another example: on first reading Pushkin's "The Bronze Horseman," I perceive the images through the printed text:
On the shore of a waste of waves He stood, replete with lofty thoughts And gazed afar .
The formulation of the proposed law must incorporate a description of the forms of letters of the Cyrillic alphabet (which in themselves are not material!) and be sufficiently general so as to explain the immutability of the brain's physiological processes, corresponding to the image arising in the imagination and taking into account the changes in orthography which occurred in Russia in 1918. But which of the materialists will succeed in proving that the formulation of such laws may some day be accessible to us? Of course, they can make an attempt to outline the evolution of the situation just described in its historical aspect. This is their favorite method, and in this instance it promises interesting results. Their scientific usefulness will be accepted as a "proof of materialism." Yes, but the usefulness of the materialists and the truth of materialism itself are two different things. Herein lies the danger of the fallacy of ignoratio elenchi, this intellectual basis for every kind of demagogy! (In the demagogues' place, I would not build a base - Marxist or Christian - upon this or that practical doctrine. Instead, I would announce in appropriate form the purified principle of ignoratio elenchi as a manifest ideological dogma. This principle would be stated approximately thus. I. In order to prove the required premise A, we must prove premise B which is similar to it, and we shall then consider that A has been proved by it. The second postulate, without which they could not do, would read as follows: II. No thinking person would argue with us as to whether B resembles A, for, otherwise, he would not be a thinking person because he does not understand his personal or public usefulness. For a practical application of their theories in life, they should add a third postulate, consisting-in the case of humane demagogues-of two parts: III. a.) He who does not understand his personal usefulness is sent to an insane asylum; b.) He who does not comprehend public usefulness is sent to jail or is condemned to death. According to this, metatheory requires these principles: M-l. "To understand" means to understand as we understand, and sometimes as another person understands; M-2. He who does not wish to understand something does not understand this thing. This would at least be an honest system, the convincing nature of which would be proved for all by postulates III-a and III-b, assisted by M-l and M-2.) I apologize for this digression; unfortunately, thought develops in different directions, while the text does so in a straight line. At present, I do not have the time to write otherwise. Returning to the problem of materialism, I shall say that the aforementioned attempt at a "historical" solution of the problem is at any rate allied with the hypotheses of time or something similar. It is doubtful that it can be liberated from the aforementioned non-material components (like the "forms of letters") without a supplementary hypothesis about world harmony, in which no one is obliged to believe. In any case, the materialistic solution of a problem has only been declarative, but in no way as yet realized. This is why it must not be said to exist. If we accept the materialistic hypothesis of reducing all processes to the material, then we are at a loss how to explain our faith in our own thinking, without resorting to the version on harmony. Indeed, if thought develops along physiological channels, why must it satisfy logical and intuitive requirements? However, I do not insist on faith in thought. I reject an orderly system; but what do I propose in its place? Nothing, for the present: in fact, I want nothing but freedom of opinion on this question. Freedom does not tolerate dogma. Freedom is a vacuity. As regards the Marxist version of materialism, it is full of additional petty discrepancies, which I propose as food for thought to those who wish to defend this doctrine. For example, this definition is frequently cited: "Matter is objective reality, given to us in sensations." In that case, everything which occurs around us is not material, because it has not yet been given to us, but is merely being given. In general, only the past can be material. There is yet another definition of matter in which the words "given to us in sensations" are replaced by "existing independent of our consciousness." According to this definition, only the present can be material. The incompatibility of both definitions of the same concept of matter is evident (at least for realists). I shall not undertake to judge which of these is correct, inasmuch as the Marxists themselves usually do not know what is a definition and what is not. For them, "fact," and only that, is important. "Marxism is not a dogma, but a guide to action." For fear of contradiction, I shall not term this a Marxist dogma. 3. Determinism. The representations of necessity and of law are not identical. Therefore, we can conceive of determinism in at least two senses. Both are subjective, .simply because they are representations. Necessity and especially law are beyond my conception. I simply do not understand them. Perhaps this is why I must not judge such a great problem. Nevertheless, I shall risk the affirmation that what I do not understand, others do not understand either. (Alas, I wish to make use of principle M-l by applying a contraposition to it! But I console myself with the fact that M-l does not follow from the result because of the absence of tertium non datur.) If we adopt the principle of universal determinism, then again it is impossible to explain faith in thought without resorting to the version of harmony. Thought is indeed predetermined, and therefore it is not at all necessarily predetermined to be the truth or admissible in other respects. (Of course, we may cut the Gordian knot by rejecting as metaphysical every notion of this admissibility-in which case, my congratulations on the result!) Moreover, without any supplementary hypotheses on harmony, one may consider that harmony really exists and is, in addition, very contrary; so that it is predetermined for us to be deluded, and to consider our delusions as truth, and not to know about this situation or, suspecting it, not to be in a condition to overcome it. Logically, this is possible. I have been living under the weight of this irrefutable thought for twenty years. I have not rejected it, nor have I lost my reason over it. At any rate, it is a pleasant consolation that the very concept of law has evolved (though this is only hypothesis) from our striving for systematization, and the concept of necessity from our habit of separating, in our logical thinking, premises from that which is to be inferred from them. If this is so, then it is not necessary to give excessive significance to these concepts because, being the result of thought, they need not reflect the reality which subordinates thought to itself. Having understood this, I would also regard the existence of God in a different light-as a hypothesis, in which a philosopher has no reason to believe. As to the question of "primary causes"-i.e., "the cause of all causes" (or the analogous question of aims) -we are dealing here with a pseudo problem which we can easily discard. To be precise, "cause" or, to state it better, "causality" is a relation with, unfortunately, an indefinite number of argumentative points, so that it is impossible to imagine it (without distortion) as a predicative symbol. Thus, we have become accustomed to seek for a cause in a phenomenon. It is not obligatory to think that each phenomenon must have a cause (why should there not be a spontaneous phenomenon?). Nonetheless, we think that we understand the meaning of the expression "A is the cause of B." But this is when A and B are phenomena. But who has proved that there is a "universal" phenomenon which consists of a totality of all phenomena and which may be termed "universe"?* (I do not speak at present of the logical difficulties connected with such universal concepts: these difficulties are well evidenced in the theory of numbers.) Besides, because of their diffuseness, it is impossible in this case to examine these "phenomena as elements. And even if such a phenomenon does exist, why must it have a cause? Having rejected universal causality, do we arrive at the notion of freedom? For all the importance of this concept in other areas, I do not think it is essential for that area of epistemology of which I now speak. To answer this (1uestion, we should have to give a more precise definition of the concept of "freedom." This we can do in various ways. Apparently, to get a positive reply, it would be desirable for the concept of "freedom" to be in a negative form or, in any case, for it to admit the rule of eliminating the double negative. Freedom has certainly not always been understood in a negative sense, as the absence of necessity or compulsion. It is often understood as a possibility of choice-and then the rule of eliminating a double negative is inapplicable (a priori). Since I am speaking of freedom, I should like to remark that we value freedom conceived as the possibility of choice; but certainly not because we like to choose (the necessity of a choice is sometimes simply horrible and almost always unpleasant!), but because we desire to choose without compulsion. This desire is, to me, very far-reaching. I do not know what to say about good and evil, for I am not accustomed to regard them as philosophical categories. In any case, it is my wish that the choice between various representations of these matters should be free and that, within the limits of each choice, the choice between good and evil should also be free-in the sense of the absence of compulsion. (It is evident here that "freedom" cannot always be understood as a possibility of choice, for otherwise I should never get out of this impasse which the Georgian philosopher Gokieli has called a "regression into infinity.") Alas, our language once again does us a disservice here! We use the word 'voluntarily' (dobrovolno) in the same sense as the word "freely"-and here the root "good" (dobro) has crept in. It is easy to cope with this if one notes-but it takes time to notice it (and I was already past thirty when I did this)-how many years you have lived under the unrealized influence of the concept of good, which has sneaked into the place of freedom! This is again the result of the habit of simply dividing phenomena into two spheres, of which I spoke initially- and, as a result, how many possibilities there are of fallacies of the type of ignoratio elenchi! I note that this defect in our thinking is a paradise for poetry, which likes nothing better than this obscurantism. For this reason precisely, I have reacted with scorn during the past eight years to this genre of art which had earlier so fascinated me. Yet to this day I love poetry, simply because a wedge is the best means for knocking out another wedge; and the former illusions, engendered by poetry, can best be destroyed with the aid of new poetry. For instance, I like the following lines of verse, which I should like to insert somewhere: You will not force me to believe in good, Hangmen, hangmen, hangmen! But to this I can only add something rather mediocre and naïve. Thus an inferior kind of poetry is born-a poetry I detest. So that is the role of contemporary poetry, the kind which a thinking man can love. 0 women, wenches, bitches! Why have you for centuries loomed before the eyes of dreamers, inciting them to search for "Love, Good, and Beauty"? Indeed, what do you yourselves understand in these matters! In order to understand, one must have freedom, but you even forbid any mention of it, because you understand nothing and fear everything. (All that your art amounts to is to present this sweetly-i.e., to impose it in a delicate manner.) Oh, you men who strive for a female's love and who form an army in which glad rags are as important as they are to women! Glad rags, superiors, force, authority, power! Life is accursed if one must constantly remember this corruption. Give us freedom! The concept of freedom, of which I now speak, is, of course, negative. Demagogues, who are merely interested in attaining their ends at the price of confusion in people's minds, can do nothing but grunt like pigs. But we must free ourselves from the influence of people with their docked language and find a scientific expression for the concept of freedom. Only when we attain this shall we be able to trust our own thoughts. But, until that time, people are merely the captives of that language in which biped males and females offer each other candy. I realize that I am saying things which are crude and harmful for life. In this way, I express my attitude toward life and thought. Thought consists in a search for truth; life, in a search for advantage. These two ideals represent opposite poles to anyone who must choose between them. (Speaking of "the search for truth," I, of course, do not assume the existence of truth.) There is a conflict here: I. As a living being, I place life above thought. II. As a thinking being, I place thought above life. To attempt to reconcile these opposites is the same as to attempt to serve both God and Mammon. Nor is it very interesting, for nothing sensible can come of it. Many will dispute the last statement. Therefore, I shall specify: I mean "sensible" as far as thought is concerned. As for life, I have nothing better to suggest than demagogy, for I have now turned my back on life. I realize that this is not the way philosophical treatises are written, but I have no time now to express the stated conflict otherwise. To those who are not lazy, I would suggest that they express all this in an elegant style. I think I have made it clear that I myself have chosen Path II. The following is important: this is the only honest path for the thinker and, therefore, the only one possible in this treatise. I have said much, but to little purpose, about pseudo problem Number 3. The most important thing that I wished to say is the necessity to free ourselves from the influence of language which, in this and in the following problem, proves a greater obstacle than anywhere else. (For instance, how could I manage here without using the words "necessity" and "to FREE ourselves"? And when can these words be tolerated here, for we are concerned with the stage preceding the study of the problem of freedom and necessity?) I should like to add the following to what has been stated: a.) I have sidestepped the difference between "metaphysical determinism" or "fatalism" (in Marxist terminology) and "dialectical determinism" because I do not know what "dialectical determinism" means. Perhaps it may be possible to conceive something reasonable by this, but no one has as yet clarified this subject. Thus, perhaps, a new variant of this pseudo problem will evolve in the future (and important scientific problems may become connected with it) . However, at present, it is not clear what we are to understand by "dialectical determinism." I think it is a child's rattle, invented to preserve the terminology of dogmatic Marxism where it is necessary to pay homage to science. b.) The study of the principle of authority, its role and its limitations, is an important problem in practical philosophy. The concepts bearing on this problem must be worked out on a scientific level, and the conclusions which suggest themselves must be made accessible to all. This problem may acquire important practical significance in the matter of liberating minds from various orthodoxies. Only the imperfections of this treatise can explain that here it comes under the rubric of pseudo problems. c.) I cannot resist being sarcastic about the quibbling definition of "freedom" as "realized necessity." This definition implies that, if I find myself in prison, I am not free only until I have realized that I cannot walk out; but, as soon as I become aware of this, I shall immediately discover "freedom." Need I explain that such a terminology is very convenient for the "liberators of mankind"? They make good use of it. . But whoever said this first might have made an apt statement. Can we think of a better example of distorted dogmatism? The thing over which I now try to trip the Marxists- essentially, this obsession with "nimble borrowings" which are then arbitrarily introduced as proof, whether they apply or not-is, unfortunately, not peculiar to them alone. This has a grave bearing on "the principle of authority"- insofar as we cannot forgive anyone who uses the above device. Elegant literary language is, alas, crammed with misleading misappropriations of this kind. Another example is Renard's aphorism: "Freethinker? That's too long [a word]. Plain 'thinker' is simpler!" The problem that arises in this connection is how to regard these types of "thinkers," who are no less numerous than the Marxists. 4. Monism. One system is simpler than two or several, not only because fewer systems need be studied, but also because there is then no need to examine the relationships between different systems. This is why unitary systems of views on the "universe" attract us. Thus, the desired is taken for the actual (which we discussed at the beginning), and, further, the simplest system is selected which would contain an integrated whole corresponding to the unity of the system itself (a transition deserving the attention of philosopher-logicians!), and this integrated whole is then declared to be the "universe." It would be impossible to derive this concept from a different formula, if only because of the difficulties inherent in the concept of "the multiplicity of all objects." The "multiplicity of all material objects" (if we include phenomena in the number of objects and insist on "discreetness" in an admissible way may even be acceptable, but only the materialists would term such a thing "universe," and the acceptance of their thesis in the given question would bring its back again to the difficulties inherent in "the multiplicity of all multiplicities." It is sometimes considered that the unity of everything is guaranteed by the unity of the perceiving subject. The argument is presented thus: only that is real which is perceived; thus, everything perceived relates to some de finite subject and is, in this sense, unitary. Here one may still object to the word "everything," but, in my opinion, it is more important to inquire: 'Why is it possible to arrive at any unity by such a method? Obviously, the subject we are considering in this dissertation is a purely hypothetical one. The very idea of the subject is based upon an examination of many subjects.... If we push our inquiry further, why must I believe in the unity of my own personality? Here I am approaching the aforementioned problem of the complexity of the ego concept. I do not imagine myself at all as something unitary! There is within me an entire chain of experiences which are unrelated to each other. They so little resemble each other that no philosophical desire arises to consolidate them into a single ego. If we still believe in the ego, then we are motivated by three things: instinct, moral considerations, and our dependence upon language (of which I have already spoken; it is allied both with instinct and the phenomena of a moral nature, and with the fact that language has developed, very possibly. as the result of human intercourse, which demanded the differentiation of each ego and, to a lesser degree, of its further partition). I use the word "instinct." But others perhaps think that there is also an intuition of the ego? Of course, there is; but then we also possess intuition which relates to concepts of our fantasy-for instance, to the gods, and to contradictory mathematical theories. (As long as we have not arrived at a contradiction in the process of proving something from the opposite position, we often rely on intuition.) Thus, the intuition of the ego merely speaks of the clarity of this concept to us, but not of the actual existence of the ego. Instinct is in itself very important. But it would be an innovation to refer to it in philosophy as a proof of something or other. At any rate, monists do not proceed in his way; at least, not until they resort to pedagogical methods. In the problem of the unity of the ego, the arguments of instinct and moral arguments, too, may have only a practical, but not an epistemological, value. There are also psychological arguments in favor of the Infinity of the ego: for instance, those which may be extracted from the Freudian theory. But these arguments, which are very important to psychology, have no bearing in the ego, which is necessary for the foundation of philosophical monism. To endow them, in this instance, with conclusive force would amount to committing the fallacy of ignoratio elenchi. I do not wish to dwell on that advantage which dictators and demagogues elicit from monistic hypotheses, since I assume this to be well known. Religions-consciously or instinctively-have propagated monism, and materialism has inherited this from other religions. With the possible exceptions of the most modern Western culture, which deserves tremendous gratitude, and Indian culture, which has evoked in me a corresponding admiration even though I am not well acquainted with it, every culture demands of its adherents and dependent members some kind of a unity of views, without which it would disintegrate. Christianity and Communism would certainly disintegrate. Pedagogues and scholars, who have predilection for pedagogical motives, imitate culture in this respect. I cannot see how this can be avoided. But what do I care about it, if I have decided, in connection within the aforementioned pseudo problem, to follow Path II? History is probably one of the monistic fictions. Nature is another fiction, in which everyone has believed until now. It is only the difficulties of language-permeated as it is with monism on all general questions-which have prevented me from disposing of this fiction. In a philosophical sense, I do not believe in the existence of Nature any more than I believe in God. I would add that, if people had more leisure for philosophical reflection and were in no hurry to receive an answer, they would probably not be satisfied with monistic theories. 5. Faith. So much has been written about God that I do not wish to touch on this subject at present. I only think that there has never been a belief in God which has deserved any serious epistemological treatment, because belief in God has been instilled by compulsion. Compulsion, by its fatal consequences, undoubtedly evokes the most profound questions. In our time ontological evidence no longer demands criticism. What is interesting in this connection, and even more so per Se, is the recording of all meanings which use the word "to exist." Every reasoning must obviously originate from something. It is said that these initial premises are accepted on faith. No deductive theory could do without them. (However, you may doubt this also, since no one has yet proved even this assertion without the use of premises.) But the philosophical method is a descriptive-analytical rather than deductive one. Thus, I do not see the necessity for the presence of any belief at its foundation. It is sometimes said: If we analyze everything, we shall destroy everything and fail to arrive at anything. You cannot reach down to all the depths. Is it not better, then, to argue more calmly? (This phrase "more calmly" astounds me. In my opinion, daring is required to believe in any hypothesis, but not to feel any doubts concerning it.) But, pray, why not apply this argument to our activity in general? It likewise has no finality. (So it seems to me now.) For instance, you cannot prove all the theorems in the axiomatic theory. But this does not hinder anyone in the study of mathematics. Why should we then stop short before the analysis of axioms? Incidentally, it is well known that, in analyzing axioms, we do not destroy the theory; and, to develop this latter, we have absolutely no need of "faith" in axioms, although it is an advantage to be able to imagine their meaning. But it is no harder to imagine the meaning of false assertions than that of the true ones. The question as to whether the forms of the following assumptions are equivalent-"We assume A" and "We assume that A is true"-is not clear in every context. I think that these assumptions must be distinguished from each other. But assuming that A is true, and deducing a corollary from this, I am in no way obliged to believe in the truth of this assumption. In the philosophical sense, the meaning of "believe" is not clear. It usually seems to me that this is a philosophically (but not psychologically!) hollow concept. Consequently, I relegate this question to the number of pseudo problems. For instance, if I am asked whether "I believe that 2 x 2 = 4," I would very likely reply in the affirmative. But this reply would, in all probability, be a purely reflex one. In any case, I permit people to doubt this. If I am asked whether "I believe that I am a man, I would reply affirmatively. I would have some arguments, but my trust in them would be only a reflex. I would allow doubts about this, too, although perhaps less willingly. In general, the inadmissibility of doubt usually signifies the absence rather than the presence of psychological certitude. I may believe that the city of Paris does not exist, because I cannot get to it. To me, this is a very unpleasant doubt. People prefer to dismiss such doubts. But Path II in pseudo problem Number 3 enjoins me not to do this. One of the sources of faith is a hostility toward many doubts, a hostility based, in the final analysis, on the indolence of thought. (I should like to point out that it is often necessary to overcome great indolence in order to grasp a mathematical theorem.) In this respect, there are frequently unjustified instances when the law of the excluded middle is applied. On the other hand, I may doubt the existence of the city of Leningrad, even though I was born there; but since I am not at present located there, it may no longer exist. And I can also question the existence of Moscow, even though I am now living there; for what I see around me is not Moscow, but merely my table and a sheet of paper. And, if I look out the window, I shall see only the walls of buildings, which show no proof per se that they are in Moscow. There exist as many different doubts of this type as there are different meanings of the word "to exist." In a certain sense, I believe in Greek mythology; I do so whenever I obtain more specific information about it in a dictionary. All doubts are permissible, but not all of them excite identical curiosity. The assertion "2 = 2" is beyond doubt, not because of the blasphemy of such an undertaking, hut because here a sufficiently interesting alternative is wanting. Psychologically, faith is a custom. Here, I agree with Russell, in Human Knowledge (which, by the way, has been translated revoltingly badly into Russian). 6. Death and Immortality. There is no problem which excites so great a number of people. Nevertheless, it is a pseudo problem. In reality, there are two moments which disturb us in death: the impossibility of participating in the events of the distant future and the impossibility of realizing many intentions. It would be more honest to call the second circumstance by its proper name, and not to connect it with the question of immortality. If I could realize everything I needed, I would not complain about my mortality. But if I still complain, then it is evidently not a question of mortality in itself, but more specifically a question of my own limitations. The same applies to the limitations of my desires in general. Alas, I shall not live to the middle of the next century. But why should this trouble me? After all, I have reconciled myself to not having lived in ancient Greece or on a satellite of Sirius. I am disturbed, of course, by the necessity for resignation. It is evidence of my limitations. But, to call things by their proper name, why must I lament human mortality rather than my own limitations? After all, it has not been proved that, if I were immortal, I should not also be limited. I do not understand the Christian consolation in the legend of paradise, because the prospect of my becoming an angel does not evoke the slightest enthusiasm in me. The problem in reverse: It is a pity to die. Here we have two aspects: a.) a pity for my ego; b.) a pity that life must end in torment. The second aspect is undoubtedly unpleasant from an aesthetic point of view; but I am not so helpless as not to be able to change this (remember, there is always morphine). Of course, death is unpleasant, but no more so than various illnesses and anti-aesthetic experiences. It is a problem, but not one with which I am presently concerned. It is another sort of problem, far from a philosophical one. (Anyhow, what sort of a problem is it?) As regards the first aspect, does not my ego die and revive every minute? I am certainly not the same man who will die at about the age of eighty. My present "I" will be hopelessly lost by that time. This aspect of the problem tortured me a great deal when I was fourteen. But, a year later, I had arrived at the argument which I have just mentioned. Since then, I merely marvel at my wisdom at such a youthful age. Twenty years have passed since then, and the suggested solution still retains its original force for me, so that the only aspects of the problem of mortality which still disturb me are those which I have previously relegated to the class of pseudo problems. At the same time, I cannot understand why Christians are so convinced that the idea of Hell will restrain people from sin. If I am a sinner, then of what concern to me is some creature in Hell who will curse me and who possibly will be listed under my name in a celestial office, but who does not have flesh and, therefore, resembles me no more than does a thinking and screaming protoplasm? And quite a few of them have got to Hell without me! (I have in mind the consistent, inveterate Christian-sinner, to whom I am giving this philosophical advice.) ________________ I have examined a sufficient number of pseudo problems. It is time now to concern myself with genuine problems. But I have almost exhausted my time; therefore, I shall proceed in a more concise manner.
7. The problem of the conscious and the subconscious. This is very important in the light of the Freudian doctrine. Freud was a brilliant scientist, but one could also have arrived at his conclusions by way of a purely philosophical analysis of the problem-which, however, almost did not exist before Freud, since it remained, as it were, in the realm of the subconscious! Is this not the way new philosophical problems arise as a result of the development of the sciences? The matter is not too complicated. We relegate thought, emotion, or memory to the conscious sphere only when we can express it in words. But language is a means of communication; and what is not a subject of communication cannot be expressed through language. (Of course, it is possible for man to communicate "with himself"- the future with the past.) But there are quite a few processes occurring in us which do not have it as their purpose to be related or recollected at a later date. Many phenomena are determined by cause rather than by purpose. In such instances, they may elude registration in the conscious mind. And if we talk of processes, even psychical ones of such a kind as do not knowingly serve as a subject for being retold, then why should they be perceived? It might even be interesting if we could perceive them. But we are powerless to effect this because of an oversight or a deficiency on the part of the intellect. Directing our attention within our soul, we shall be able to note some-timing there and, by analyzing it, endeavor to express it in language. But we shall succeed in this only if we assume that these phenomena are, in a grammatical sense, related to those which we are capable of discussing. It is well known that there are psychical experiences which we are powerless to express through the medium of speech. We attempt to achieve these through the medium of music. Much that is important may be destined to remain inexpressible. Nevertheless, the success of Freudian determinism implies that the role of the inexpressible, if such a thing does indeed exist, is not too great in the conscious life. Apart from the inexpressible, there can always exist important expressible, but as yet unexpressed, things. There is no reason to express them. It is they that comprise the realm of the Freudian subconscious. In the vital interests of the personality, it is often better not to express them. In this connection, I should like to point out that an unperceived tendency is invulnerable, and it can therefore expand to staggering dimensions, while remaining unobserved by the intelligence. When we think that we have triumphed over some kind of tendency, we assert its antithesis, but the former continues to develop gradually. If we are not aware of this process, we are bound to be amazed by the explosion which can ensue. It matured in the subconscious. Will is loyalty to a tendency. It also can develop in the subconscious sphere within the aforementioned consequences. This has a bearing on the life of a person, as well as on the life of human collectives-in particular, those of nations, states, and cultures. In this instance, the role of the conscious interprets that which the state formulates, that of which it is aware. This is not necessarily the same as that which it allows its own press to publish. Its high priests may be much more intelligent than its press, and they may judge this distance necessary to keep the consciousness of the people from rising to the level of their understanding. In this connection, what shall we say about the obvious error of so-called historical materialism, which sees in economically originated relationships the basis for all others and, in particular, the basis for moral and juridical relationships? This is inapplicable, for instance, to Soviet society, where a powerful state authority can change the economic system from an agrarian to an industrial one. How then can the state authority remain the "superstructure over the economic basis"? The Marxists use sophisms, with the help of which they endeavor to conceal this paradox or, to state it better, this self-deception. These self-deceptions are well known. I shall merely say that, if they themselves believe in their theory, they will perish from their own blindness. I have the impression that they are not quite so stupid as not to understand this, all the more so because they have long since converted their theory into a convenient carriage-shaft. Will they be able to indoctrinate their successors adequately? I shall avoid prophecy. The important thing is that a purely political tendency toward power or authority is prevalent in the Soviet Union. There is nothing original in this. They are as blind as moles in their Marxist classification of philosophical systems into "clerical," "bourgeois," "proletarian," and so forth. Are they really incapable of understanding that the difference between materialism and idealism, for instance, corresponds first of all to the nature of the intellect, to a greater or lesser predisposition for analytical thinking, and that this has nothing in common with the social origin of the thinker? (Of course, I am withdrawing from the possible impression of this origin, which it is always possible to overcome with sufficient critical persistence.) Their blindness may be deliberately simulated. That is not such a stupid method. Their first teachers, Marx, Engels, and Lenin, were not primarily philosophers. Therefore, they could permit this oversight and ignore it for a certain length of time. Later, the demagogic line may have gained the upper hand. In any event, their attempts at a sociological approach to these problems had some intrinsic value which, however, we should not overestimate. ________________ People are often loyal to ideals, because this gives them strength. Hence the concept of the strength of people and that of an omnipotent God. Believe in Him whosoever will. ________________ I must conclude. I was unable to touch upon moral problems. I do not at all consider them unimportant, but I do think that the foregoing should precede their judicious formulation. I am opposed to moralistic norms interpreted as dogmas, whatever they may constitute. But there are natural norms, a departure from which disturbs me to a greater or lesser degree. It is important, above all, to be honest. This means: not to lie and not to act as a traitor. This sometimes requires courage, which one must possess. The rest will fall into place. A true classification of society should proceed according to a psychological principle. In political issues, the psychological attitudes of various groups toward authority have primary importance. Much depends upon education. Man can overcome in himself, any education. To with-draw from one's self is the most difficult thing of all. He who does not think so has simply never been himself. What is to be said about anarchy? It is my political ideal. But the attempt to realize it in practice would, in our time, prove to be a revolting crudity, brigandage, demagogy, and it would probably terminate in usurpation. Well, the role of ideals does not lie in their realization. It is good if fine but unattainable ideals exercise some influence on our morals. One should develop the principles of modal logic. They would prepare the ground for more absolute thinking, whereas there is clearly a dearth of existing systems of logic. Unfortunately, here, too, language presents obstacles. In our worldly pursuits we permit ourselves unceremoniously to distort modality; we even consider this a refinement of our speech. For instance, instead of telling a scoundrel that he must go, he is politely told, "You may leave." In his place, I would not leave on any pretext until I had been requested to do so in clear and precise form. In the negative tendency characteristic of Russian speech, it is constantly said: ''You must not do this" instead of "You are obligated not to do this." At the present moment, I find it difficult to say whether this is characteristic only of the Russian language. In any case, this phenomenon does no credit to the veracity of people who can tolerate such language. Reforms are necessary here. The simplest grammatical reform in Russian speech would consist of introducing this "not to do" as a single word, with an accent shift in colloquial speech on the "not." The matter is simpler where the affirmative and negative modalities of speech are concerned. It is true that sometimes one modality is used in place of another, and this is termed irony. In colloquial speech, this is expressed by a shift in intonation or by laughter, the logical role of which always consists of a change in modality. ________________ The habit of applying modalities correctly would evidently have a wholesome effect on the juridical relation between people, as well as between the individual and the state. In view of the diffuseness of the majority of concepts, modal logic should be developed without the law of the excluded middle. There, the implication will be different from the material one (or there will be many implications) , and the principle of 7 A D (A D B) will , generally speaking, no longer apply. ________________ A great number of such logical systems have been examined. We need many of them. But no useful purpose is served by applying the law of the excluded middle, which is almost always present in them. In questions of equity and ethics, one should develop those logical systems which are close to the Deontic ones, but without this law. ________________ It is time, also, to put associations in their proper place. A vast number of popular theories are based on associations, whereas they should be based on analysis. In a creative sense, this may be wonderful. But it is un-tenable in a philosophical sense. If the philosophers were a species of thinking rather than cultural beings, I would not discuss such an obvious matter. ________________ Neither a state nor a culture should have any authority over the convictions of individual persons! ________________ I have stated my views on most questions. I shall be very glad if this manuscript is published in the West. In Russia, this would be impossible. I give my permission to publish it without any alterations in Russian, and also in English, German, French, and Italian. I am not concerned about the consequences. I have written in haste. I have not checked or reread any of this, because I had to deliver this quickly. I do not claim to be the most intelligent person in Russia. Much that is written here is not new. But every student in Russia who has arrived at philosophical skepticism by his own thinking can consider himself a new Columbus. (Actually, Columbus was not a great man.) There is no freedom of the press in Russia, but who can say that there is no freedom of thought?
Volpin JULY 1, 1959, Moscow.
P.S. I have written as much as I could in one day.
NOTES A friend of mine, when he heard [the statements on] this page and a summary of the treatise, said: "In other words, you believe only in thought and reason? Yes, of course, there is nothing else in which to believe. But even these matters need not be believed. It is not necessary to believe in reason. It is sufficient for the thinking man to be reasoning. Let us apply here what I have said about Renard.
(Not for Publication) *
In the event that this Treatise is published, I beg to be sent at least one copy. I did not keep the text. I apologize for the carelessness in style. I was obliged to complete this in one day and had no time to reread what I wrote. I should be happy if the opportunity presents itself to continue it. In any event, I am extremely glad to have fulfilled the duty, which I have long regarded as the most important one, even though it be in its initial stage.
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Should anyone find this treatise uninteresting, kindly save it for others. But if all this is familiar to everyone and, because of this uninteresting, I shall be very pleased, too. In that case, please offer it to the museum of Russian oddities.
* The publisher feels that, in the light of present circumstances, these paragraphs should be printed.
Translation from the Russian by George Reavey, as published in "A Leaf of
Spring" (New York: Frederick A. Praeger, Publisher, 1961) |