THE SCEPTICAL CHEMIST

AND THE UNWISE PHILOSOPHER

BY

D. C. S. OOSTHUIZEN

GRAHAMSTOWN

RHODES UNIVERSITY

1960

THE SCEPTICAL CHEMIST

AND THE UNWISE PHILOSOPHER

INAUGURAL LECTURE DELIVERED AT

RHODES UNIVERSITY

BY

D. C. S. OOSTHUIZENPROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY

M.A. (Stell.), Phil. Drs. (Amsterdam)

GRAHAMSTOWN

RHODES UNIVERSITY

1960

THE SCEPTICAL CHEMIST

AND THE UNWISE PHILOSOPHER

Many scientists and philosophers have found it hard to decide what role philosophy ought to play in a modern univer­sity. The question, ‘ what does philosophy tell us ’ might have resolved their difficulties, had it not been that it is itself obscure. Philosophers are not at all certain that philosophy could tell us anything, and most scientists are convinced that in fact it tells us nothing.

One school of thought has stated clearly that philosophy is unable to add anything to our information about the world. A mathematical problem, it is said, is one which can be solved cither by consulting a mathematician or by doing the appropriate mathematics ourselves. When there are no experts to consult nor any appropriate methods for solving a problem, we enter the ‘ field ’ of philosophy. Philosophical questions, accordingly, are ‘ muddles ’, ‘ puzzles ’ or ‘ bothers ’ rather than problems. It is the task of the philosopher to resolve these questions by removing the sources of the ‘ bother ’. Philosophical questions, in fact, are questions which ought not to be asked. The question ‘ what does philosophy tell us?’ is such a question. Philosophy does not tell. Philosophers are not wise men; they are university philosophico- analysts.

Another school of thought has opposed all this. Philosophy, it is said, provides a key to the understanding of capital letter words like ‘ Truth ’, ‘ Goodness ’, ‘ Beauty ’ and ‘ Reality ’. A ‘ key ’ only, because philosophy cannot tell us about these things in so many words. Through another kind of therapy, by creating puzzles where none are obvious, it leads us to an intimate, word­less understanding of ‘ Being ’. This is indeed a wisdom that

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surpasses words, but again philosophy tells us nothing. Like the oracle at Delphi, this philosophy neither affirms nor denies, it suggests.

The puzzle of the status of philosophy is linked to the question of its relation to the sciences. This relation, as it is con­ceived by various theories, may be explained by comparing it to the patterns of thought used by the early Greek thinkers to solve their problems of the unity and diversity of qualities. Thus, for instance, the claim of various particular sciences that they are the ‘ basic science ’ or ‘ the true model for all science ’ may be compared to Thales’ deification of one particular quality, water, or what amounts to the same thing, his secularization of God. The pattern of unity and diversity which led Thales to regard ‘ water ’ as the source and essence of all the other qualities of experience is that of regarding one factor in a complex situation as pre-eminent. This pattern is also used when Physics, for example, is regarded as the only ‘ true ’ science. In this scheme there is no place for philosophy in our universities. As Thales’ water was both a concrete: phenomenon, the water we know, and an all comprehending metaphysical entity, so would physics ideally be both a specific science and wisdom itself.

At the other extreme we find the ‘ unlimited something ’ of Anaximander making its reappearance. According to Anaxi­mander the source and unity of all the qualities we may experi­ence cannot itself be a particularly quality. It is something indefinite, transcending all the particularities of experience. In the same way, it is thought that the Archimedes point which we seek in order to evade the relativity of the particular sciences, cannot itself be relative. Philosophy, in transcending all particular theories, is therefore enthroned above the sciences, apportioning to each its limits and its raison d’etre; but thereby it itself becomes indefinite and inarticulate. Something of this Apeiron is certainly to be found in Socrates’ concept of the immortal soul, in Kant’s transcendental criticism and in Bergson’s elan vital. In each we find the notion, whether through the heart or through the mind, of a mystical short-cut to heaven. Here philosophy becomes the Grand Architect and scientists mere building con­tractors, working not too well to realise brick by brick the vision of the Masters.

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Again, as Democritus, by introducing atoms and the void, dismissed the problem of reducing the many qualities we know to a few, positivists have dismissed attempts to construct a super­theory by introducing ‘ protocol sentences ’ or ‘ atomic facts “ Facts (in this conception) are good, simple souls; there is no guile in them, nor any subjective bias, and once we have made ourselves acquainted with them, we have reached the beginning and summit of all wisdom.”1

These atoms of significance, being empirically verifiable, and therefore informative about nautre, are by definition scientific propositions. They cannot be philosophical expressions. In this conception scientists discover the atoms; it is left to philosophers to discuss the void.

These attempts to clarify the relations of philosophy to science have had the effect of limiting philosophical statements at their worst to foggy, all-embracing, prophetic pronouncements, and at their best to well-established but trivial propositions. The sum of it all seems to be that if philosophy has any contribution to make to the field of knowledge, science could do it better; and where science cannot compete with philosophy, the things philo­sophers say cannot be regarded as informative. In either case, philosophy tells us nothing.

* * * * * *

Now it is accepted on the whole that a philosophy of science—or a meta-science as it is called—should describe what in fact are the methods, assumptions and the fields of study of the various sciences. A philosophy of science, it is said, ought not to prescribe to science. An ideal unity of science should not be invented where no such unity has been achieved. It is strange therefore that this principle is seldom applied to a metaphilo­sophy. It is too often assumed that this kind of discipline ought to tell philosophers what they should do. Scientists to-day reject the proposition that one needs a complete philosophy of science in order to conduct experiments or to formulate hypotheses. Nevertheless scholars often demand that one should first know what philosophy is before one can seriously tackle philosophical problems.

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These spurious attempts to determine once and for all what role philosophy ought to play in relation to science, have mean­ing only on the common assumption that the words ‘ common- sense knowledge ‘ science ’ and ‘ philosophy ’ designate definite characteristics. Thus, for instance, it may be argued that we know what we mean by the terms ‘ common-sense knowledge ’, and ‘ science Science (it may be said) is one thing, common-sense another. Given any proposition we can, in principle, classify it as either ‘ pretheoretical ’ or as ‘ scientific ’. But we do not know what, if anything, is designated by the term philosophy—it is hard' to know why a proposition should be classified as philo­sophical. It is misleading therefore to speak of philosophy as a subject. What is called philosophy (it is argued) consists of a chaos of propositions which ought to be classified as ‘ scientific ’ or ‘ common-sense ’ ones, or rejected as nonsensical. But there is no a priori reason for affirming this assumption or this argu­ment. We do not argue in everyday life that Mrs. Jones, nee Smith, can in no sense be both a Smith and a Jones. It is possible that the terms ‘ science ’, ‘ common-sense ’ and ‘ philosophy ’ do not indicate common properties of classes of propositions, but that they function as family names, binding loosely together a sheaf of concepts which may or may not all be compatible.

In this lecture I shall argue that they are in fact family names. I shall attempt to show that it is not the task of a metaphilosophy to prescribe, and that the demand that the term ‘ philosophy ’ should designate a set of constant and consistent characteristics is such a prescription. I intend to do this by raising three questions, namely (a) Is there any sense in saying that every science carries its philosophy within itself? (b) Is the relation between science and philosophy a constant? (c) Is philo­sophy no more than a series of meta-sciences?

(a) Every science carries its philosophy within itself.Is there any sense in saying that every science carries its

philosophy within itself?For many centuries ‘ certainty ’ was regarded as the mark

of theoretical statements. It was believed that philosophical state­ments, being certain in themselves, were more fundamental than scientific propositions. In this Euclid provided an ideal for science

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and for the relations between science and philosophy. In his geometrical order the certainty of all derivative propositions in a system is guaranteed by a few self-evident principles from which they are inferred by strict deduction. To be sure, it was not possible to establish the fundamental principles of physics by rational insight alone; as a mere subject one had to approach the throne of the majestic laws of nature backwards, proceeding inductively from menial fact. Nevertheless the relation between fundamental philosophical and derivative scientific propositions was not altered by the necessities of research: ideally the one was logically implied by the other. Philosophy, here, was the undisputed queen of the sciences; her divine right guaranteed the validity of the humble facts of science. This was essentially also the position of Kant. The pyrrhonic criticism of Hume—that scientific principles were necessary merely from a psychological point of view—made it impossible to maintain a strict deductive relation between philosophical principles and scientific proposi­tions. Against Hume, Kant asserted that these principles are indeed psychological in so far as they are principles of thought but not of things. Scientific propositions, however, like all pro­positions, are the ‘ products ’ of these principles and thus reflect the mind’s unchanging architecture. In studying these ‘ forms of thought ’ philosophy, according to Kant, therefore has an easily accessible blueprint for the logic of all possible scientific propositions.

History has confuted Kant by rejecting his inventory of human thought. Developments in natural science and especially the iconoclastic work of the social sciences have made question­able Kant’s unchanging and indeed absolute a priori. Meta­phorically speaking, the ‘ mind ’ seems to be malleable. It can be formed and reformed. This has led to the view that, apart from the trivial tautologies of logic, science has no a priori prin­ciples. Science, it is said, proceeds from fact to the formation of verifiable hypotheses. In this inductive process there is no place for assumptions of a philosophical order. Science needs to transcend the subjective beliefs of common-sense, impregnated as they are by ‘ deep ’ philosophical insights, which deep-down nevertheless appear to be pretty shallow. In this view, then, science supersedes both common-sense and philosophy.

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But this is itself a shallow philosophy. The term ‘ fact ’ is systematically ambiguous and has many philosophical overtones. “Its meaning, though definite, varies with its context, and because it depends on its context in a very complex way, the concept of a fact is not viable when withdrawn from its normal habitat.”2 Facts, that is, are not atomic propositions which are significant in vacuo; they are points of agreement within an argument. What is regarded as fact for the purposes of one investigation may be disputed from another point of view. We cannot talk of facts with a big F—they are what can be taken for granted on this or that occasion, what a disputant ought to concede as true on this or that occasion if he were a reasonable man. To say, therefore, that we ought to base our investigations on fact is to state the platitude that universal doubt is not scientifically speak­ing significant, but that it leads to the wagging finger of Cratylus who could say neither yes nor no because he was caught in the infinite regress of doubting his doubt. It does not lead to know­ledge.

Apparently, then, we can neither affirm nor deny that there are a priori principles operative in science. This dilemma, how­ever, is more apparent than real as a comparison of a few char­acteristics of common-sense and scientific ‘ knowledge ’ ought to show. What is called common-sense-knowledge refers to a large and complex family consisting of such things as propositions, rules of behaviour, techniques and habits of thought. These are imbedded in language and constitute the frame of reference we use when we confront the world as ordinary men and women. That is to say, we do not experience the world as an imprint on a blank sheet; we are aware of it only as articulated or observed by the more or less abstract symbols of society. Common-sense propositions, therefore, are significant only against a certain back­ground consisting of the knowledge we possess and the purpose we have in mind; but our knowledge and our purposes are socially conditioned, they usually reflect certain'roles standardised by society as desirable or undesirable. As these roles imply moral commitments to society, the contrast between ‘ what is ’ and ‘ what ought to be ’ is not always sharply drawn. The more primitive a society, that is, the less complicated its system of social roles, the greater is the symbiosis of religious, cognitive,

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pragmatic and other values, the vaguer the distinction between priest and scientist.

The acute discrimination between various kinds of values in our own society, and especially the juxtaposition of cognitive values with religious and pragmatic values, may be seen as a result of the gradual emergence of new purposes, and new roles in society. The history of science records a continuous refinement and diversification of these purposes and consequently a more stringent distinction between various kinds of values. But this was, and is, a gradual process. Initially at any rate, the edges between science and common-sense were blurred. It is only in time that a science builds up a more or less integrated set of symbols, of models and techniques, and it is this set which deter­mines what is and what is not to be regarded as significant for its purposes. A science is not called into being when an eagle- eyed scientist stumbles over a well-marked but neglected field and applies his ready-made ruler to it; its field is progressively defined as its tools are invented and sharpened, its problems and tenta­tive solutions ordered. As in any society, there are in-groups and out-groups in science, feeling their way to a unity which is hardly ever achieved.

But this means that every science has an a priori, albeit a changing and relative a priori. The study of this a priori is the object of a philosophy of science. It goes without saying that it cannot be discovered by entering the deep recesses of the soul. The a priori can only be stated by analysing the logic, problems and procedures of a science. In this sense philosophy functions as a meta-science, i.e., as a critique describing the abstract metho­dology of a science, clarifying the word-view appropriate to that methodology and relating it to the methodologies and word- views of other sciences. It is in this sense that it is said that each science carries its philosophy within itself.

(b) The relation of science to philosophy is not a constant.We must now raise our second question: “ Is the relation

of science to philosophy a constant?”I have argued that because scientific knowledge only

gradually supersedes ordinary beliefs, it is not always feasible to

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label a proposition as either a scientific or a common-sense one. It may be objected that this argument confuses the historical development of science with its logic: in principle, it may be said, scientific statements differ from John Doe’s beliefs. A study of the logic of a science should, be able to discover marks which are common to all scientific statements, and which are not to be found in other kinds of statement. The philosophy of one science may seem to differ widely from that of another: in fact it ought to be merely a variation of an unmistakeable theme. In this view, what makes science ‘ science ’ is clearly distinguished from those properties which stamp statements as pre-scientific: there is a logical yardstick by means of which we can measure this kind of thing.

A comparison, however, of the changing relations between scientific models and ordinary beliefs does not bear out this view. Ordinary beliefs are expressed in the language of John Doe and are subject to the vagueness and ambiguities to which the Oxford Dictionary testifies. It is true that the context in which words are used may indicate their definite meaning; but this context itself is often hazy. It has open horizons; it fluctuates with the vagaries of our minds and our interests; it is suggested rather than stated. Explanation on this level, therefore, usually proceeds by metaphor. For these reasons it has long been realised that exactitude in science could only be achieved by inventing a new and ideal language not subject to these limitations. Its terms would be unambiguously defined within a lucid and arrested context; its universal signs would have their place in a grammar which could express all relations clearly, and which would allow the discovery of all sentences which could possibly be construed in that language.

Prototypes of this ideal language are to be found in symbolic logic and mathematics. A formal universe of discourse consisting of a few primitive concepts, relations and operations is defined by denotation. The ways in which these symbols are to function within the system are laid down in postulates, stating the existence of certain variables and unique terms, and exhibiting the logical nature of the relations and operations to be used. From these basic propositions all the other propositions which are valid within the system are inferred deductively.

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Because these symbols are defined by their denotation within a completely formalized system, they have no intrinsic relation to common-sense: i.e. systems of mathematics and logic are not inferred from but applied to common-sense symbols and they are consequently valid without reference to ordinary beliefs. From a common-sense point of view the propositions of a com­pletely formalized system are indeed ‘ meaningless so many marks on paper, and mathematics and logic merely a game played by eggheads with these marks.

In this sense these axiomatic and formalised systems are clearly distinguished from common-sense knowledge. This is not true of the relation between the philosophy of mathematics and mathematics itself. The relation between logistics and mathematics roughly speaking, is that of a degree of formalisation. By pro­gressively specifying the ‘ meaning ’ of symbols in a formal con­text of logistics, as ‘ numbers ’, an arithmetical algebra may be ‘ generated ’. But this algebra itself could function as the ‘ philo­sophy ’ of ordinary arithmetic. What is to be regarded as philo­sophy and what as science therefore depends on the context. There is no clear-cut distinction which could be made once and for all.

s*: * H5

A new element appears in the relations between philosophy, science and common-sense in physics. The concept ‘ physical object ’ is the field of study of physics only in a misleading sense. This concept is reached by a series of abstractions from the vague but full context of everyday life—it is often defined as the ‘ common-denominator ’ of all objects that can be seen, touched, pushed and pulled. The symbols in terms of which this abstract concept is discussed on the common-sense level— ‘ substance ’, ‘ qualities ’, ‘ cause and effect ’, ‘ force ’, ‘ energy ’— are gradually rejected by science in favour of a more exact system of terms and operations, namely those of mathematics, which must be applied to its field through experience. By applying these symbols which cannot be inferred from sense-experience to the experimental field, the physicist achieves the exactitude he desires. Because the quantitative symbols of mathematics used in physics are not derived from, but substituted for, the qualitative symbols of ordinary discourse, this means that the physicist is able to

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formulate his laws without reference to the well-known objects surrounding us in the world: there is no need for him to reconstrue these everyday objects in terms of the formal context of physics. The theoretical constructs of physics are not copies of things: physical formulae differ in ‘meaning’ from word- language sentences. Thus, for instance, it has been said that “ what relativity theory illuminates is not the metaphysical nature of time, but the function which time measurements can perform in physics”3; or to choose another example: it is logically indefensible to relate immediately work done in physics to ordinary experience by speaking of two tables—one a solid hard thing, the other mostly emptiness with occasional .electrons whirling somewhere.4 There are no atomic ‘ tables ’ or ‘ things ’. There are merely two languages referring to the same field, the one intimately through the jargon of John Doe, the other by application through experiment.

Again, therefore, the relations between physical theory and common-sense knowledge seem to be clear-cut, while the relations between philosophy and physics seem to be less clear. Philosophy functioning as a metalanguage of physics—as a meta-physics in the strict sense—has to discuss the ways in which mathematical symbols are applied to the theoretical objects of physics, the prin­ciples of verification and falsification used by physicists and, the ‘ logic ’ of physicist language. The difficulty of drawing a sharp line between applied mathematics and theoretical physics is a pointer to the kind of relation which obtains between physics and metaphysics.

* * * * *It may be argued, and with justification, that this bears out the

belief that in fact scientific propositions can be clearly distin­guished from ordinary ones; and further that the relations between philosophy and science seem less clear only because a new meaning has been given to the term ‘ philosophy ’. Surely (it may be objected) philosophy taken as meta-science is far removed from the traditional metaphysics of Hegel or Nietzsche; once this is understood it may still be maintained that science supersedes both common-sense and philosophy.

Now this ‘ argument ’ is tenable only on the supposition that what holds for physics must hold for all sciences—and,

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indeed, this has been a fashionable assumption. It is believed by many social scientists that age is the only difference between physics and their more youthful disciplines. There is however no obvious reason why this assumption should be accepted, and certain aspects of the logic of the social sciences, as a matter of fact, seem to point in the opposite direction. That is not to say that we are here dealing with a new kind of logic or that the methods of the social sciences are radically different from those of physics. The situation is rather this: that here the relations between philosophy, .science and common-sense have subtly changed, and with them, the meanings of those terms. This may be indicated by mentioning a few of these relations.

The social sciences, in common with physics, were gradually emancipated from the undifferential treatment of different kinds of subjects in speculative philosophy. This meant not only that sharper distinctions between ethical, religious and cognitive values were drawn in these new disciplines than is usual on the common- sense level; it also meant an increasing departmentalization. This dual abstraction—the suspension of prescriptive moral philosophy and the departmentalization of what is left—is common to all sciences. It leads to the formulation of thought-constructs or concepts, which are narrower in scope of meaning but richer in analytical detail compared to those of ordinary beliefs. The term ‘ personality ’ in psychology, for instance, is narrower in its scope than John Doe would prefer to believe, but it nevertheless con­tains many factors unknown to him. In this there is no difference between the thought-constructs of physics and those of the social sciences. The social sciences however have had only limited success in following physics further than this. In physics, as we saw, the ‘ empty ’ symbols of a formalized system are substituted for those concepts which are ‘ abstracted ’ from experience. It is this step which the social sciences find hard to take: they find it difficult to formulate non-qualitative hypotheses. Some of the reasons for this state of affairs must be sought in the kind of definition of terms used in these sciences.

Mathematical procedure demands that terms or formulae should be definable by logical equivalence, for instance, that a definition should be interchangeable with the expression which it defines. This is hardly ever possible in the social sciences. Here

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on the whole, the meaning of a term is specified by compiling a list of ‘ indicators These indicators stipulate how the term should be used in certain stiuations. A certain weight, which may or may not be statistically determined, indicates in its turn the usefulness of the various indicators. Consider, for instance, once more the concept “personality”. A set of indicators a, b, c . . . . n may be compiled for the use of this term in such a way that, given a it is more than likely that the word is correctly used, given b it is less than likely, and so forth. These indicators may also be negative. We may say that, given, p it is more than likely that the term is misapplied, given q it is less likely, and so forth. But this does not imply that the ‘ meaning ’ of this psychological term is equivalent to an exhaustive list of its negative and positive indicators. Confronted with this term we cannot infer that a, b, c . . . n must be present and p, q, r, . . . z cannot be present. Although ‘ a ’ may be the best criterion for the application of the term “personality”, it may also be the most elusive criterion in practice. The word may be used more frequently in situations indicated by ‘ b ’ or ‘ c ’ in which 1 a ’ is not necessarily present. Thus, although an I.Q. of 204 would be a sure indication that we are dealing with a kind of situation in which we could apply personality tests, it does not follow that we cannot apply the test except in this kind of situation. But this is to say that the term “personality” does not logically connect its various indicators: it is, at the most, their empirical focus. The psychological uses of this term can therefore only be determined within a concrete context. In the social sciences, in other words, the meaning of a term is specified by giving a range of its applications. These applications need not be consistent, nor need all be present in any single correct application of the term. What is more, the ranges of application of a “common” concept in different social sciences, partly overlap and they shade off into common-sense ranges of application. No clear-cut distinction between science and common-sense can be drawn. Indicators used to specify the meaning of concepts, for instance, are themselves subject to this kind of ‘ definition ’. There is an endless regress involved in the specification of meaning of social science concepts, and it is inevitable that the ordinary beliefs, from which these concepts are abstracted, should refuse to be excluded.

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The relations between philosophy, science and common-sense are therefore of a different order in the case of the social sciences. Many curious constructions have been put on this fact, and at the risk, long since incurred, of being tedious this must be dealt with in more detail. Let it be said immediately that the differences between social and natural science must not be sought in a break in formal logic. It has been stated that there is such a formal break, that the continuity between ordinary beliefs and the propositions of social science implies that these disciplines are irrevocably ‘ subjective ’. Thus it may be said that it is impossible to transcend the subjective norms of one’s society. They influence not merely the meaning of the concepts we handle, but the handling of those concepts as well. An extreme instance of this kind of argument; is to be found in Soviet doctrine: an economic theory, it is said, must not only take into account the needs and wants of Marxist man. The way these needs are interpreted will reflect the; norms of the economist. One must choose one’s point of departure in these matters and be frankly propagandist. Now it could be shown without much difficulty that mathematics and formal knowledge are essentially continuous in kind with political and social knowledge. In both we formulate hypotheses and attempt to verify their deductive consequences. The difference is rather this, that the meaning of the terms we handle in formal knowledge has no reference to the social context from which they issue, while in the social sciences this context is relevant to the determination of ‘ meaning ’—but, and this is important, the social context is not necessarily determinant of the ‘ truth ’ or ‘ validity ’ of these meanings. If this is granted there is no need to assume that the social sciences are essentially subjective. The close relations between common-sense and social science may be illustrated in the following way:

The continuity between ordinary beliefs and the abstract concepts of social science makes it difficult to classify a proposi­tion as either ‘ scientific ’ or as ‘ common-sense ’. Here there is often no need to contend with the formidable barrier of a com­pletely formalised language before hypotheses can be made signi­ficant to ordinary mortals. The technical jargon of the social sciences still follows the rules of ordinary grammar, and there­fore the results of the social sciences can easily become part of

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the jargon of John Doe. It is not easy to say, for instance, whether the proposition that ‘ x is suffering from a superiority complex ’ is a scientific proposition or not. No doubt the pro­position does not mean the same to Dr. Bronsheim and to John Doe, but there is a continuity between their beliefs which is symptomatic of the constant interplay between social science and common-sense. The break between social science and natural science is not so much a question of a difference in logic as a question of their different relations to common-sense.

This also applies to the relations between social science and philosophy. An instance of the interplay between these two may be found in a result of the so-called linguocentric predicament— of the fact, namely, that there is no wordless understanding or non-verbal knowledge, and that our scientific models are extra­polations of the characteristics of the language we are using. Because we do not reflect often enough on the influence of syntax on thought, we intend to confuse grammatical categories with those of things. This has led to many confusions in social science, notably the body-mind problem and the deification of ‘ group consciousness ’. A meta-social-science cannot ignore such effects of ordinary grammar on the problems of psychology and sociology. In analysing these linguistic forms, for instance, in studying the logic of ordinary language, a philosophy of social science not merely describes problems, but contributes towards their solution. Perhaps it may even be said that it prescribes the kind of solution which could be valid within the framework of the grammar used. In practice, in other words, a mcta-social- science is often integrated with the science it describes. On this level there is no clearcut distinction between science and meta-science—a knowledge of philosophy may be relevant here to a pursuit of experimental ‘ fact ’.

The interplay between philosophy and social science is however more thoroughgoing than it would seem from this example. This may be illustrated by mentioning a few of the many kinds of meaning of ordinary beliefs. I shall take my examples from the field of cultural meanings. What is happening here and now is a cultural event. The so-called ‘ real ’ or ‘ objective ’ meaning of this event is that an inaugural lecture is being given. This ‘ meaning ’ can be grasped by any reasonable

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being who is conversant with the conventions of this university. Metaphorically speaking, the event has a structure within a determinate social context and this gives it an ‘ obvious ’ meaning. But it could also ‘ mean ’ in a different way—it may be taken as an expression of intentions. Where the objective meaning is con­cerned, so to speak, merely with the social structure of the event, its expressive meaning cannot be understood without referring to the motives, intentions and problems of those who participate in it. Objective meanings, in other words, are subject to causal explanation, expressive meanings only to goal-explanations. Finally, the event may have a meaning out of all proportion to its real or expressive significance. It may remind us in an almost platonic sense of fundamental values, for instance, of values which we regard as fundamental to university life; or it may reveal to us the ultimate futility of philosophy, or the meaning of western civilization. These examples are certainly not exag­gerated. A young girl’s playful command that another should ‘ take and read ’ ‘ revealed ’ to a saint the will of God; neurotic moods reveal to existentialists the lack of significance in the universe. In all comprehensive philosophies there are such basic and unreasoned metaphors which to a believer reveal God and the world, but to the sceptic the values and idiosyncrasies of the disciples.

These meanings are, of course, subjective. They are deter­mined by our personal histories and by that of our society. The present issue, however, is not whether they are true meanings. What concerns us is that these meanings influence the relations between science and philosophy in two ways. The first need not be stressed. As is well-known these meanings are studied by the social sciences. They are factors in social change and are rife on the common-sense level*.

*Because we often accept as ‘ fact ’ the comprehensive meanings inherited by our society, and since there has been no occasion to disagree, we are not always aware of the comprehensive nature of the ethos of our own groups. Analyses of such an implicit system of morals and metaphysics call for team-work between philosopher and social scientist. Correlations are established not merely between social conditions and a factual moral system but between kinds of social conditions and kinds of moral systems. Analysis of the latter is essentially a philosophical task.

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The second and more important way in which these mean­ings influence the relations between philosophy and social science appears in a comparison of the role of comprehensive theories in physics and social science. In the field of the natural sciences ‘ integration ’ means the construction in a common formal context of hypotheses wide enough to allow the deduction of the parti­cular hypotheses to be explained. This however is not the usual meaning of ‘ integration ’ in the social sciences. The con­cept ‘ personality for instance, cannot be fully understood with­out studying its ranges of application in various sciences. The specification of its meaning in psychology is incomplete. It needs further specifications in social psychology, sociology and anthropology in one direction, and in physiology in the other. What is needed for the understanding of this term, therefore, is not merely a specification of the weight of indicators for its application in a single range; we must also specify the relative weights of the various ranges of application in different sciences. This cannot be done without knowledge of a trustworthy criterion, which would allow us to arrange the various sciences in an order of importance. But we do not possess such a criterion, nor can the social sciences be arranged on a scale. Despite the fact, or perhaps because of the fact, that the fields of these sciences overlap, there is no ‘ still point of the turning wheel ’ which could function as a criterion to determine the relative worth of the various sciences in defining a common concept. Every suggested ‘ still point ’ would itself be subject to analysis from the various points of view it is trying to organize. Freud’s work is itself not merely subject to a Freudian analysis; it is also subject to a sociological analysis. The ‘ still point ’ we do use is not conceptual; it is emotive, a vague metaphor. Here the difficulty seems to be, “ not with our research or our definitions as to personality, but with the plain fogginess as to the nature of man . . . . Neither in content nor in method can we be said to have solved the essential problem of the starting point from which a psychology . . . . of personality could be written.” Admittedly again, “the abyss of our ignorance cannot be spanned by philosophies of human nature . . . . the scientific method will be heard.”5

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But such comprehensive philosophies are at work in social science and they do often point the way. Although in themselves neither verifiable nor falsifiable because of their inventive and poetic nature, they suggest certain kinds of hypotheses, certain lines of research: “ A general notion of the nature of things affects our opinions, not by having any deducible consequences, but by prescribing the kind of explanation which is acceptable . . . . ”6 Although, therefore, it is true that it would be sheer impertinence on the part of philosophers to assert dogmatically what the future integration of the social sciences may be like, it would be folly to deny that there are metaphysical beliefs opera­tive in social science. Examples of such comprehensive philo­sophies are the belief that every event must have a cause, that all goal-explanations can be reduced to casual explanations, etc. These metaphysical beliefs must be uncovered and studied: in this there is no sharp demarcation between the fields of the philo­sopher and the social scientist.

These varied relations between ‘ common-sense ‘ science ’ and ‘ philosophy ’ point to the fact that these terms are themselves not to be defined by logical equivalence. Their meanings can be specified only in a range of definition. It is therefore not sur­prising that their relationship is perhaps less constant than is often believed.

This I may take as an answer to my second question.

(c) Philosophy is more than a metalanguage of the sciences.I have tried to indicate in the preceding argument that philo­

sophy has various roles to fulfil in relation to the various fields of scientific endeavour; that on the whole it may be said there is a growing intimacy between science, common-sense and philo­sophy to the degree that definition by logical equivalence gives way to range definition. The conclusion of this argument seems to be that there is no single point of view from which the rela­tions between science, common-sense and philosophy can be ordered unambiguously. I hope also to have indicated that, whereas “ Philosophy in the old sense of a subjective study . . . involving transcendental knowledge was inimical to the physical sciences, philosophy in the new sense in which it is now con­ceived is inimical neither to the physical nor to the social

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sciences.”7 Does all this imply that philosophy in this ‘ new ’ sense can be no more than a series of metalanguages of the various sciences?

One of the reasons why it was believed that philosophy in the old sense was inimical to the physical sciences, was the fact that in this kind of philosophy no sharp distinction was drawn between ‘ fact ’ and ‘ value Science demands a stringent dis­crimination between religious, moral and practical values on the one hand, and cognitive values on the other. This demand, in its most intelligible sense, is reflected in the rule that ‘ ought ’ state­ments cannot be verified, falsified or justified by descriptive statements: it has become almost a platitude to say that science is concerned with what is, not with what in the last resort ought to be. (Where the social sciences have as part of their subject matter the valuations operative in social institutions and organiza­tions, they do not evaluate these valuations. In so far, therefore, as science is concerned with action, it studies it as a disinterested observer: it is not concerned with the establishment of ultimate ends or values, but only with the relation between observed means and observed ends).

This rigid distinction, however, is not accepted on the common-sense level. As an epistemological distinction it is valid; it is false as a descriptive statement of the situation in everyday life. Although it is true that “ it will never be a permissible objecion to an epistemological construction that actual thinking does not conform to it,”8 we here have an instance of the fact that actual thinking is not deterred by epistemological construc­tions. An apparent contradiction may make this clear. The logical rule that in science ‘ ought ’ statements cannot be verified by descriptive statements is itself a descriptive statement; yet this logical statement is used to justify the ethical rule that scientists ought not to concern themselves with ‘ ought ’ statements. Similarly the descriptive statement that light travels at 186,000 m.p.s. may be interpreted as an ought statement: one ought to accept the idea that light travels, that its speed is measurable, etc. No contradiction is involved however. The logical rule applies to the functions of propositions within the universe of discourse of science. It merely states that there are no valid decision- procedures for evaluating values, whereas the statements that

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scientists ought not to concern themselves with ‘ ought ’ state­ments, that they ought to accept certain propositions, etc., are aimed at persuasion within common-sense contexts. It states that if one wishes to be successful in science one should obey the rules of the game. But this is not to say that the ethical rule is logically implied by a descriptive statement.

In principle, then, there is no difficulty in distinguishing between the persuasive functions of propositions on the common- sense level, and their descriptive functions in science. Thus, for instance, physics has undoubtedly altered our metaphysics, albeit indirectly and in various ways. The application of the results of physics in inventions has altered the material conditions of our culture and in this sense has been a powerful factor in social change. Again, through a translation of its results into ordinary jargon, it has altered the fundamental beliefs from which we act and which rarely rise to the level of awareness. Belief in science has itself become a fundamental belief.

The fundamental beliefs of a society can be gauged by studying their incentives to action or by observing the myths of the dominant social institutions. The prolific use of the word ‘ scientific ’ in advertisements (ranging from toothpaste to the techniques of punch-drunk boxers) is therefore an interesting indication of the status of science as a social institution and the incentives to action it provides.

But as long as the distinction between a scientific and a common-sense universe of discourse is kept clearly in mind, these various roles of scientific propositions need offer no difficulties.

We have seen however that in the case of the social sciences this distinction is not as clear as we may wish: social science propositions do shade off into those of common-sense, and the universe of discourse of social science overlaps with those of ordinary beliefs and actions. What may be regarded as John Doe’s beliefs from one point of view are from another the results of Dr. Bronsheim. It is therefore not always easy to separate the social and scientific function of propositions in social science, and this implies that the relationship of social science to action is more intimate than in the case of natural science.

I am not referring here merely to the reformist intentions of the first social scientists. The founders of natural science too and

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especially its eminent representatives in the 19th century, often ascribed a soteriological function to their disciplines. These things, important as they are, may still be regarded as motive and bias. What I am referring to is the so-called interference effect of social science, the effect communication of its results has on groups and individuals. “Whereas in the non-social sciences objects of study are not affected by our thinking about them in a special way, in the social sciences they are thus affected if and when we tell them what we think of them. . . . To the extent that it enters into people’s understanding, social science can nullify its own cassandra-like predictions.”,J

Reasons for this interference-effect are not far to seek. Con­veying information is not the only role of communication. On the common-sense level communication aims, perhaps primarily, at influencing behaviour and attitudes. As long, therefore, as the propositions of social science are coined in the language of John Doe these two functions may be distinguished, but they cannot be separated. Descriptive propositions will be regarded as pre­scriptive. “Literate peoples are going to read what is said about them, no matter how many verbal formulae are set up as barriers, and what they cannot understand they may aggressively mis­understand. Communication involves ‘ noise ’, redundancy and overtones . . . . Some social scientists have sought to escape from this; to escape from terms which common usage has loaded with values, into manufactured symbolism so lacking in overtones as to avoid connotations of praise and blame . . . . but the relation of social science to its subjects, who are also its audience, forbids any such easy undialectical answer of the researcher’s clinical judgments. Terminological opacity itself will be taken as a judg­ment upon the world . . . . Deadpan symbols may symbolize deadly determinism in the researcher”.10 The scientist has been drawn out of his ivory tower on to the marketplace, indirectly in the case of the scientist, directly in the case of the social scientist; it would indeed be ironical if we should now appeal to the distinction between ‘ is ’ and ‘ ought ’ to justify our view that this ought not to be the case.

The fact is that the “success of the social sciences in devis­ing procedures of convincing reliability has led to their marriage with policy to an extent which could have been conceived only in

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principle in Weber’s time . . . .”11 [But perhaps] “ marriage is too explicit and conclusive a term; for the time being the social sciences ‘ live in sin ’ with social action, a relationship either con­demned or blindly ignored by conventional sociological think­ing.”12. Thus, for instance, socio-economic decisions are not con­fined to the field of science. They have entered the field of action, partly through an attempt to maximize the achievement of given ends through the careful use of available means, partly through attempts to change personalities and social relations in the direc­tion of greater harmony and stability by working to a better integration of conflicting goals; but science has also entered the field of action by creating conflicts in conveying moral commit­ments of a different order. The logical values of rationality, objectivity and experimentation are taken on the common-sense level as ethical injunctions which often imply attitudes conflicting with those of tradition.

This fact throws into a new focus the task of the modern university. Communication of knowledge and the teaching of scientific attitudes are important functions of a university, and consequently they are important factors in social change. Time was when this function presented no difficulties to universities— they were imbedded in the accepted norms of society as a whole. This situation has changed. To-day the scientist feels that he is not a law-giver, but his ethical attitudes prevent him from being merely a civil servant. On the other hand, while his leadership is officially praised, in practice his enlightenment is resented. This is understandable. The forces of tradition resist changes of any kind and they inhibit further inquiry by giving final answers to questions. Yet the myth of science as a dominant social insti­tution demands that final truth must be held to be unknown and that scientists should act as policy makers by pushing back the frontiers of knowledge. Again, universities, regarded by them­selves as ivory towers, do influence goal-formulation in societies, either by delivering the bureaucrats or by supplying information which seems to justify action. These contradictions are well known. It is therefore an anomaly that a study of the effects of the communication of scientific propositions on society should be ignored, and that the demands placed on universities by its social role should be regarded as something that in time would

provide its own solutions. We should study the effect of scientific propositions on our morals in social roles other than those of researcher or teacher; and we should take more seriously the ethics which we practise but which in theory we believe to lie beyond the scientific atttiude.

Seen in this way the age-old ideal of ‘ wisdom ’ regains its place in institutions which for too long have been dominated by the ethical attitudes of unwise scientists and sceptical philo­sophers. For too long have we been over-impressed by “ a supposedly empirical line of reasoning which promises to take us by the scientific hand and to lead us out of the wilderness of norms—only to find at the end of the trail the same philosophical problems which have plagued our ancestors for centuries.”13. For too long on the other hand have we been content with an ethics of barren truisms, which with its supposed secret access to final knowledge, construes neatly outlined programmes for action valid in all and every conceivable situation and therefore enlight­ening in none. ‘ Is ’ and ‘ ought ’ are not as inimical as logic would have us believe. Ethical ideals are religious in origin; they must be and are reincarnated anew in the changing situations of every­day life in so far as they are related to the determinate goals of society. In this science plays its part without accepting its responsibilities.

Three centuries ago Robert Boyle warned that whereas scepticism is so often regarded as the scientist’s weapon against religious values and the pursuit of wisdom, science needs the tempering influence of a profound doubt—for only when one realizes how little one knows can a sound beginning be made on the task of science. In this he was matched by the great unwise philosopher of Athens who brought philosophy down from the spheres into the marketplace, and who, though he thought himself a loyal servant of the state, could not acquiesce in the existing social order, believing as he did that ‘ knowledge ’ and ‘ virtue ’ could not be separated.

Our universities may therefore well heed the warnings of the sceptical chemist and the unwise philosopher. In this too philosophy shall have its place—but not, I believe, merely as the handmaiden of science.

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REFERENCES

1 J. R. Lucas, “ On not worshipping facts,” Philosophical quarterly, vol, 8, p. 144.

2 Ibid.3 H. Dingle, “Scientific and philosophical implications of the special

theory of relativity,” in P.A. Schilpp, Albert Einstein, philosopher and scientist, New York, Tudor Publishing Co., 1951, p. 551.

4 cf. A. Eddington, The nature of the physical world, Cambridge University Press, 1929, p. ix et seq., and H. Dingle, The sources of Eddington’s philosophy, Cambridge University Press, 1954.

5 G. Murphy, Personality, a biosocial approach to origins and structure, New York, Harper, 1947, pp. 925 and 916.

6 G. H. Whiteley, “Metaphysics and science,” Philosophical quarterly, vol. 9, p. 247.

7 J. K. Feibleman, “ Culture as applied ontology,” Philosophical quarterly, vol. 5, p. 416.

0 H. Reichenbach, Experience and prediction, Univ, of Chicago Press, 1949, p. 6.

9 B. Moore, “ Sociological theory and contemporary politics,” American journal of sociology, vol. 61, pp. 110-111.

10 D. Riesman, Individualism reconsidered, Glencoe, 111., Free Press, 1954, pp. 12-13.

11 Quoted by P. Halmos, Ethics, vol. 69, p. 108, from Shils.13 Ibid.13 D. N. Morgan, “ Is justification scientifically impossible?”, Ethics,

vol. 69, p. 41.

SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY

Black, M., Problems of analysis, Routledge, 1954.Cassinelli, C., “ Some reflections on the concept of the public interest,”

Ethics, vol. 69, p. 48.Cassirer, E., Essay on man, New York, Doubleday, 1953.Clarke, J., “ Ethics and the social sciences,” Philosophical quarterly,

vol. 6, p, 121.Diesing, R., “ Socio-economic decisions,” Ethics, vol. 69, p. 1.Farber, M. (editor), Philosophical essays in memory of E. Husserl,

Harvard University Press,. 1940.Feibleman, J., “Culture as applied ontology,” Philosophical quarterly,

vol. 1, p. 416.Feibleman, J., “ Theory of integrative levels,” British Journal for the

philosophy of science, vol. 5, p. 59.Halmos, P., “ Social science and social change,” Ethics, vol. 69, p. 102. Hayek, F., “ Degrees of explanation,” British Journal of the philo­

sophy of science, vol. 6, p. 209.

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Kaplan, A., “ Definition and specification of meaning,” in P. Lazarsfeld, The Language of social research, Glencoe, 111., Free Press, 1957.

Lerner, D. (editor), The human meaning of the social sciences, NewYork, Meridian Books (M64), 1959.

Lucas, J. R., “ On not worshipping facts,” Philosophical quarterly, vol. 8, p. 144.

Macfie, A. L., “ On the break between the natural and the human sciences,” Philosophical quarterly, vol. 1, p. 140.

Malotki, J., “ Das Problem des Gegebenen,” Kant-Studien, 1929. Mannheim, K., Essays on the sociology of knowledge, London,

Routledge, 1952.Moore, B., “ Sociology theory and contemporary politics,” American

journal of sociology, vol. 61, p. 107.Mora, J. F., “ The intellectual in contemporary society,” Ethics,

vol. 69, p. 94.Morgan, D. N., “Is justification scientifically impossible?” Ethics,

vol. 69, p. 19.Murphy, G., Personality, a biosocial approach to origins and structure,

New York, Harper, 1947.Pos, H., Structuur en situatie der geesteswetenschappen, Amsterdam,

Noord-Hollandsche Uitgevers Mij., 1953.Reichenbach, H., Experience and prediction, Univ, of Chicago Press,

1949.Riesman, D., Individualism reconsidered, Glencoe, 111., Free Press,

1954.Roshwald, M., “Value-judgments in the social sciences,” British

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Wisdom, J., Other minds, Oxford, Blackwell, 1952.

G R O C O T T & S H E R R Y —3 0 0 / 8 / 6 0