The
Fixation of Belief
Charles S. Peirce
Popular Science Monthly
12 (November 1877), 1-15.
I
[Introductory remarks]
Few persons care to study logic, because everybody
conceives himself to be proficient enough in the art of reasoning already.
But I observe that this satisfaction is limited to one's own ratiocination,
and does not extend to that of other men.
We come to the full possession of our power
of drawing inferences, the last of all our faculties; for it is not so
much a natural gift as a long and difficult art. The history of its practice
would make a grand subject for a book. The medieval schoolman, following
the Romans, made logic the earliest of a boy's studies after grammar,
as being very easy. So it was as they understood it. Its fundamental principle,
according to them, was, that all knowledge rests either on authority or
reason; but that whatever is deduced by reason depends ultimately on a
premise derived from authority. Accordingly, as soon as a boy was perfect
in the syllogistic procedure, his intellectual kit of tools was held to
be complete.
To Roger Bacon, that remarkable mind who in
the middle of the thirteenth century was almost a scientific man, the
schoolmen's conception of reasoning appeared only an obstacle to truth.
He saw that experience alone teaches anything a proposition which
to us seems easy to understand, because a distinct conception of experience
has been handed down to us from former generations; which to him likewise
seemed perfectly clear, because its difficulties had not yet unfolded
themselves. Of all kinds of experience, the best, he thought, was interior
illumination, which teaches many things about Nature
which the external senses could never discover, such as the transubstantiation
of bread.
Four centuries later, the more celebrated
Bacon, in the first book of his Novum Organum, gave his clear account
of experience as something which must be open to verification and reexamination.
But, superior as Lord Bacon's conception is to earlier notions, a modern
reader who is not in awe of his grandiloquence is chiefly struck by the
inadequacy of his view of scientific procedure. That we have only to make
some crude experiments, to draw up briefs of the results in certain blank
forms, to go through these by rule, checking off everything disproved
and setting down the alternatives, and that thus in a few years physical
science would be finished up -- what an idea! "He wrote on science
like a Lord Chancellor," indeed, as Harvey, a genuine man of science
said.
The early scientists, Copernicus, Tycho Brahe,
Kepler, Galileo, Harvey, and Gilbert, had methods more like those of their
modern brethren. Kepler undertook to draw a curve through the places of
Mars; and to state the times occupied by the planet in describing the
different parts of that curve; but perhaps his greatest service to science
was in impressing on men's minds that this was the thing to be done if
they wished to improve astronomy; that they were not to content themselves
with inquiring whether one system of epicycles was better than another
but that they were to sit down to thefigures and find out what the curve,
in truth, was. He accomplished this by his incomparable energy and courage,
blundering along in the most inconceivable way (to us), from one irrational
hypothesis to another, until, after trying twenty-two of these, he fell,
by the mere exhaustion of his invention, upon the orbit which a mind well
furnished with the weapons of modern logic would have tried almost at
the outset.
In the same way, every work of science great
enough to be well remembered for a few generations affords some exemplification
of the defective state of the art of reasoning of the time when it was
written; and each chief step in science has been a lesson in logic. It
was so when Lavoisier and his contemporaries took up the study of Chemistry.
The old chemist's maxim had been, "Lege, lege, lege, labora, ora,
et relege." Lavoisier's method was not to read and pray, but to dream
that some long and complicated chemical process would have a certain effect,
to put it into practice with dull patience, after its inevitable failure,
to dream that with some modification it would have another result, and
to end by publishing the last dream as a fact: his way was to carry his
mind into his laboratory, and literally to make of his alembicsand cucurbits
instruments of thought, giving a new conception of reasoning as something
which was to be done with one's eyes open, in manipulating real things
instead of words and fancies.
The Darwinian controversy is, in large part,
a question of logic. Mr. Darwin proposed to apply the statistical method
to biology. The same thing has been done in a widely different branch
of science, the theory of gases. Though unable to say what the movements
of any particular molecule of gas would be on a certain hypothesis regarding
the constitution of this class of bodies, Clausius and Maxwell were yet
able, eight years before the publication of Darwin's immortal work, by
the application of the doctrine of probabilities, to predict that in the
long run such and such a proportion of the molecules would, under given
circumstances, acquire such and such velocities; that there would take
place, every second, such and such a relative number of collisions, etc.;
and from these propositions were able to deduce certain properties of
gases, especially in regard to their heat-relations. In like manner, Darwin,
while unable to say what the operation of variation and natural selection
in any individual case will be, demonstrates that in the long run they
will, or would, adapt animals to their circumstances. Whether or not existing
animal forms are due to such action, or what position the theory ought
to take, forms the subject of a discussion
in which questions of fact and questions of logic are curiously interlaced.
II
[How we choose what to believe]
The object of reasoning is to find out, from
the consideration of what we already know, something else which we do
not know. Consequently, reasoning is good if it be such as to give a true
conclusion from true premises, and not otherwise. Thus, the question of
validity is purely one of fact and not of thinking. A being the facts
stated in the premises and B being that concluded, the question is, whether
these facts are really so related that if A were B would generally be.
If so, the inference is valid; if not, not. It is not in the least the
question whether, when the premises are accepted by the mind, we feel
an impulse to accept the conclusion also. It is true that we do generally
reason correctly by nature. But that is an accident; the true conclusion
would remain true if we had no impulse to accept it; and the false one
would remain false, though we could not resist the tendency to believe
in it.
We are, doubtless, in the main logical animals,
but we are not perfectly so. Most of us, for example, are naturally more
sanguine and hopeful than logic would justify. We seem to be so constituted
that in the absence of any facts to go upon we are happy and self-satisfied;
so that the effect of experience is continually to contract our hopes
and aspirations. Yet a lifetime of the application of this corrective
does not usually eradicate our sanguine disposition. Where hope is unchecked
by any experience, it is likely that our optimism is extravagant. Logicality
in regard to practical matters (if this be understood, not in the old
sense, but as consisting in a wise union of security with fruitfulness
of reasoning) is the most useful quality an animal can possess, and might,
therefore, result from the action of natural selection; but outside of
these it is probably of more advantage to the animal to have his mind
filled with pleasing and encouraging visions, independently of their truth;
and thus, upon unpractical subjects, natural selection might occasion
a fallacious tendency of thought.
That which determines us, from given premises,
to draw one inference rather than another, is some habit of mind, whether
it be constitutional or acquired. The habit is good or otherwise, according
as it produces true conclusions from true premises or not; and an inference
is regarded as valid or not, without reference to the truth or falsity
of its conclusion specially, but according as the habit which determines
it is such as to produce true conclusions in general or not. The particular
habit of mind which governs this or that inference may be formulated in
a proposition whose truth depends on the validity of the inferences which
the habit determines; and such a formula is called a guiding principle
of inference. Suppose, for example, that we observe that a rotating disk
of copper quickly comes to rest when placed between the poles of a magnet,
and we infer that this will happen with every disk of copper. The guiding
principle is, that what is true of one piece of copper is true of another.
Such a guiding principle with regard to copper would be much safer than
with regard to many other substances -- brass, for example.
A book might be written to signalize all the
most important of these guiding principles of reasoning. It would probably
be, we must confess, of no service to a person whose thought is directed
wholly to practical subjects, and whose activity moves along thoroughly-beaten
paths. The problems that present themselves to such a mind are matters
of routine which he has learned once for all to handle in learning his
business. But let a man venture into an unfamiliar field, or where his
results are not continually checked by experience, and all history shows
that the most masculine intellect will ofttimes lose his orientation and
waste his efforts in directions which bring him no nearer to his goal,
or even carry him entirely astray. He is like a ship in the open sea,
with no one on board who understands the rules of navigation. And in such
a case some general study of the guiding principles of reasoning would
be sure to be found useful.
The subject could hardly be treated, however,
without being first limited; since almost any fact may serve as a guiding
principle. But it so happens that there exists a division among facts,
such that in one class are all those which are absolutely essential as
guiding principles, while in the others are all which have any other interest
as objects of research. This division is between those which are necessarily
taken for granted in asking why a certain conclusion is thought to follow
from certain premises, and those which are not implied in such a question.
A moment's thought will show that a variety of facts are already assumed
when the logical question is first asked. It is implied, for instance,
that there are such states of mind as doubt and belief -- that a passage
from one to the other is possible, the object of thought remaining the
same, and that this transition is subject to some rules by which all minds
are alike bound. As these are facts which we must already know before
we can have any clear conception of reasoning at all, it cannot be supposed
to be any longer of much interest to inquire into their truth or falsity.
On the other hand, it is easy to believe that those rules of reasoning
which are deduced from the very idea
of the process are the ones which are the most essential; and, indeed,
that so long as it conforms to these it will, at least, not lead to false
conclusions from true premises. In point of fact, the importance of what
may be deduced from the assumptions involved in the logical question turns
out to be greater than might be supposed, and this for reasons which it
is difficult to exhibit at the outset. The only one which I shall here
mention is, that conceptions which are really products of logical reflection,
without being readily seen to be so, mingle with our ordinary thoughts,
and are frequently the causes of great confusion. This is the case, for
example, with the conception of quality. A quality, as such, is never
an object of observation. We can see that a thing is blue or green, but
the quality of being blue and the quality of being green are not things
which we see; they are products of logical reflections. The truth is,
that common-sense, or thought as it first emerges above the level of the
narrowly practical, is deeply imbued with that bad logical quality to
which the epithet metaphysical is commonly applied; and nothing can clear
it up but a severe course of logic.
III
[Some definitions]
We generally know when we wish to ask a question
and when we wish to pronounce a judgment, for there is a dissimilarity
between the sensation of doubting and that of believing.
But this is not all which distinguishes doubt
from belief. There is a practical difference. Our beliefs guide our desires
and shape our actions. The Assassins, or followers of the Old Man of the
Mountain, used to rush into death at his least command, because they believed
that obedience to him would insure everlasting felicity. Had they doubted
this, they would not have acted as they did. So it is with every belief,
according to its degree. The feeling of believing is a more or less sure
indication of there being established in our nature some habit which will
determine our actions. Doubt never has such an
effect.
Nor must we overlook a third point of difference.
Doubt is an uneasy and dissatisfied state from which we struggle to free
ourselves and pass into the state of belief; while the latter is a calm
and satisfactory state which we do not wish to avoid, or to change to
a belief in anything else. On the contrary, we cling tenaciously, not
merely to believing, but to believing just what we do believe.
Thus, both doubt and belief have positive
effects upon us, though very different ones. Belief does not make us act
at once, but puts us into such a condition that we shall behave in some
certain way, when the occasion arises. Doubt has not the least such active
effect, but stimulates us to inquiry until it is destroyed. This reminds
us of the irritation of a nerve and the reflex action produced thereby;
while for the analogue of belief, in the nervous system, we must look
to what are called nervous associations -- for example, to that habit
of the nerves in consequence of which the smell of a peach will make the
mouth water.
IV
The irritation of doubt causes a struggle
to attain a state of belief. I shall term this struggle inquiry, though
it must be admitted that this is sometimes not a very apt designation.
The irritation of doubt is the only immediate
motive for the struggle to attain belief. It is certainly best for us
that our beliefs should be such as may truly guide our actions so as to
satisfy our desires; and this reflection will make us reject every belief
which does not seem to have been so formed as to insure this result. But
it will only do so by creating a doubt in the place of that belief. With
the doubt, therefore, the struggle begins, and with the cessation of doubt
it ends. Hence, the sole object of inquiry is the settlement of opinion.
We may fancy that this is not enough for us, and that we seek, not merely
an opinion, but a true opinion. But put this fancy to the test, and it
proves groundless; for as soon as a firm belief is reached we are entirely
satisfied, whether the belief be true or false. And it is clear that nothing
out of the sphere of our knowledge can be our object, for nothing which
does not affect the mind can be the motive for mental effort. The most
that can be maintained is, that we seek for a belief that we shall think
to be true. But we think each one of our beliefs to be true, and, indeed,
it is mere tautology to say so.
That the settlement of opinion is the sole
end of inquiry is a very important proposition. It sweeps away, at once,
various vague and erroneous conceptions of proof. A few of these may be
noticed here.
1. Some philosophers have imagined that to
start an inquiry it was only necessary to utter a question whether orally
or by setting it down upon paper, and have even recommended us to begin
our studies with questioning everything! But the mere putting of a proposition
into the interrogative form does not stimulate the mind to any struggle
after belief. There must be a real and living doubt, and without this
all discussion is idle.
2. It is a very common idea that a demonstration
must rest on some ultimate and absolutely indubitable propositions. These,
according to one school, are first principles of a general nature; according
to another, are first sensations. But, in point of fact, an inquiry, to
have that completely satisfactory result called demonstration, has only
to start with propositions perfectly
free from all actual doubt. If the premises are not in fact doubted at
all, they cannot be more satisfactory than they are.
3. Some people seem to love to argue a point
after all the world is fully convinced of it. But no further advance can
be made. When doubt ceases, mental action on the subject comes to an end;
and, if it did go on, it would be without a purpose.
V
[The
four methods of fixing belief]
[Here begins
the method of tenacity]
If the settlement of opinion is the sole object
of inquiry, and if belief is of the nature of a habit, why should we not
attain the desired end, by taking as answer to a question any we may fancy,
and constantly reiterating it to ourselves, dwelling on all which may
conduce to that belief, and learning to turn with contempt and hatred
from anything that might disturb it? This simple and direct method is
really pursued by many men. I remember once being entreated not to read
a certain newspaper lest it might change my opinion upon free-trade. "Lest
I might be entrapped by its fallacies and misstatements," was the
form of expression. "You are not," my friend said, "a special
student of political economy. You might, therefore, easily be deceived
by fallacious arguments upon the subject. You might, then, if you read
this paper, be led to believe in protection. But you admit that free-trade
is the true doctrine; and you do not wish to believe what is not true."
I have often known this system to be deliberately adopted. Still oftener,
the instinctive dislike of an undecided state of mind, exaggerated into
a vague dread of doubt, makes men cling spasmodically to the views they
already take. The man feels that, if he only holds to his belief without
wavering, it will be entirely satisfactory. Nor can it be denied that
a steady and immovable faith yields great peace of mind. It may, indeed,
give rise to inconveniences, as if a man should resolutely continue to
believe that fire would not burn him, or that he would be eternally damned
if he received his ingesta otherwise than through a stomach-pump. But
then the man who adopts this method will not allow that its inconveniences
are greater than its advantages. He will say, "I hold steadfastly
to the truth, and the truth is always wholesome." And in many cases
it may very well be that the pleasure he derives from his calm faith overbalances
any inconveniences resulting from its deceptive character. Thus, if it
be true that death is annihilation, then the man who believes that he
will certainly go straight to heaven when he dies, provided he have fulfilled
certain simple observances in this life, has a cheap pleasure which will
not be followed by the least disappointment. A similar consideration seems
to have weight with many persons in religious topics, for we frequently
hear it said, "Oh, I could not believe so-and-so, because I should
be wretched if I did."
When an ostrich buries its head in the sand
as danger approaches, it very likely takes the happiest course. It hides
the danger, and then calmly says there is no danger; and, if it feels
perfectly sure there is none, why should it raise its head to see? A man
may go through life, systematically keeping out of view all that might
cause a change in his opinions, and if he only succeeds -- basing his
method, as he does, on two fundamental psychological laws -- I do not
see what can be said against his doing so. It would be an egotistical
impertinence to object that his procedure is irrational, for that only
amounts to saying that his method of settling belief is not ours. He does
not propose to himself to be rational, and, indeed, will often talk with
scorn of man's weak and illusive reason. So let him think as he pleases.
But this method of fixing belief, which may
be called the method of tenacity, will be unable to hold its ground in
practice. The social impulse is against it. The man who adopts it will
find that other men think differently from him, and it will be apt to
occur to him, in some saner moment, that their opinions are quite as good
as his own, and this will shake his confidence in his belief. This conception,
that another man's thought or sentiment may be equivalent to one's own,
is a distinctly new step, and a highly important one. It arises from an
impulse too strong in man to be suppressed, without danger of destroying
the human species. Unless we make ourselves hermits, we shall necessarily
influence each other's opinions; so that the problem becomes how to fix
belief, not in the individual merely, but in the community.
[Here begins the method of authority]
Let the will of the state act, then, instead
of that of the individual. Let an institution be created which shall have
for its object to keep correct doctrines before the attention of the people,
to reiterate them perpetually, and to teach them to the young; having
at the same time power to prevent contrary doctrines from being taught,
advocated, or expressed. Let all possible causes of a change of mind be
removed from men's apprehensions. Let them be kept ignorant, lest they
should learn of some reason to think otherwise than they do. Let their
passions be enlisted, so that they may regard private and unusual opinions
with hatred and horror. Then, let all men who reject the established belief
be terrified into silence. Let the people turn out and tar-and-feather
such men, or let inquisitions be made into the manner of thinking of suspected
persons, and when they are found guilty of forbidden beliefs, let them
be subjected to some signal punishment. When complete agreement could
not otherwise be reached, a general massacre of all who have not thought
in a certain way has proved a very effective means of settling opinion
in a country. If the power to do this be wanting, let a list of opinions
be drawn up, to which no man of the least independence of thought can
assent, and let the faithful be required to accept all these propositions,
in order to segregate them as radically as possible from the influence
of the rest of the world.
This method has, from the earliest times,
been one of the chief means of upholding correct theological and political
doctrines, and of preserving their universal or catholic character. In
Rome, especially, it has been practiced from the days of Numa Pompilius
to those of Pius Nonus. This is the most perfect example in history; but
wherever there is a priesthood -- and no religion has been without one
-- this method has been more or less made use of. Wherever there is an
aristocracy, or a guild, or any association of a class of men whose interests
depend, or are supposed to depend, on certain propositions, there will
be inevitably found some traces of this natural product of social feeling.
Cruelties always accompany this system; and when it is consistently carried
out, they become atrocities of the most horrible kind in the eyes of any
rational man. Nor should this occasion surprise, for the officer of a
society does not feel justified in surrendering the interests of that
society for the sake of mercy, as he might his own private interests.
It is natural, therefore, that sympathy and fellowship should thus produce
a most ruthless power.
In judging this method of fixing belief, which
may be called the method of authority, we must, in the first place, allow
its immeasurable mental and moral superiority to the method of tenacity.
Its success is proportionately greater; and, in fact, it has over and
over again worked the most majestic results. The mere structures of stone
which it has caused to be put together -- in Siam, for example, in Egypt,
and in Europe -- have many of them a sublimity hardly more than rivaled
by the greatest works of Nature. And, except the geological epochs, there
are no periods of time so vast as those which are measured by some of
these organized faiths. If we scrutinize the matter closely, we shall
find that there has not been one of their creeds which has remained always
the same; yet the change is so slow as to be imperceptible during one
person's life, so that individual belief remains sensibly fixed. For the
mass of mankind, then, there is perhaps no better method than this. If
it is their highest impulse to be intellectual slaves, then slaves they
ought to remain.
But no institution can undertake to regulate
opinions upon every subject. Only the most important ones can be attended
to, and on the rest men's minds must be left to the action of natural
causes. This imperfection will be no source of weakness so long as men
are in such a state of culture that one opinion does not influence another
-- that is, so long as they cannot put two and two together. But in the
most priest-ridden states some individuals will be found who are raised
above that condition. These men possess a wider sort of social feeling;
they see that men in other countries and in other ages have held to very
different doctrines from those which they themselves have been brought
up to believe; and they cannot help seeing that it is the mere accident
of their having been taught as they have, and of their having been surrounded
with the manners and associations they have, that has caused them to believe
as they do and not far differently. Nor can their candour resist the reflection
that there is no reason to rate their own views at a higher value than
those of other nations and other centuries; thus giving rise to doubts
in their minds.
[Here begins the a
priori, or "agreeable to reason," method]
They will further perceive that such doubts
as these must exist in their minds with reference to every belief which
seems to be determined by the caprice either of themselves or of those
who originated the popular opinions. The willful adherence to a belief,
and the arbitrary forcing of it upon others, must, therefore, both be
given up. A different new method of settling opinions must be adopted,
that shall not only produce an impulse to believe, but shall also decide
what proposition it is which is to be believed. Let the action of natural
preferences be unimpeded, then, and under their influence let men, conversing
together and regarding matters in different lights, gradually develop
beliefs in harmony with natural causes. This method resembles that by
which conceptions of art have been brought to maturity. The most perfect
example of it is to be found in the history of metaphysical philosophy.
Systems of this sort have not usually rested upon any observed facts,
at least not in any great degree. They have been chiefly adopted because
their fundamental propositions seemed "agreeable to reason."
This is an apt expression; it does not mean that which agrees with experience,
but that which we find ourselves inclined to believe. Plato, for example,
finds it agreeable to reason that the distances of the celestial spheres
from one another should be proportional to the different lengths of strings
which produce harmonious chords. Many philosophers have been led to their
main conclusions by considerations like this; but this is the lowest and
least developed form which the method takes, for it is clear that another
man might find Kepler's theory, that the celestial spheres are proportional
to the inscribed and circumscribed spheres of the different regular solids,
more agreeable to his reason. But the shock of opinions will soon lead
men to rest on preferences of a far more universal nature. Take, for example,
the doctrine that man only acts selfishly -- that is, from the consideration
that acting in one way will afford him more pleasure than acting in another.
This rests on no fact in the world, but it has had a wide acceptance as
being the only reasonable theory.
This method is far more intellectual and respectable
from the point of view of reason than either of the others which we have
noticed. But its failure has been the most manifest. It makes of inquiry
something similar to the development of taste; but taste, unfortunately,
is always more or less a matter of fashion, and accordingly metaphysicians
have never come to any fixed agreement, but the pendulum has swung backward
and forward between a more material and a more spiritual philosophy, from
the earliest times to the latest. And so from this, which has been called
the a priori method, we are driven,
in Lord Bacon's phrase, to a true induction. We have examined into this
a priori method as something which promised to deliver our opinions
from their accidental and capricious element. But development, while it
is a process which eliminates the effect of some casual circumstances,
only magnifies that of others. This method, therefore, does not differ
in a very essential way from that of authority. The government may not
have lifted its finger to influence my convictions; I may have been left
outwardly quite free to choose, we will say, between monogamy and polygamy,
and, appealing to my conscience only, I may have concluded that the latter
practice is in itself licentious. But when I come to see that the chief
obstacle to the spread of Christianity among a people of as high culture
as the Hindoos has been a conviction of the immorality of our way of treating
women, I cannot help seeing that, though governments do not interfere,
sentiments in their development will be very greatly determined by accidental
causes. Now, there are some people, among whom I must suppose that my
reader is to be found, who, when they see that any belief of theirs is
determined by any circumstance extraneous to the facts, will from that
moment not merely admit in words that that belief is doubtful, but will
experience a real doubt of it, so that it ceases to be a belief.
[Here begins the method of science]
To satisfy our doubts, therefore, it is necessary
that a method should be found by which our beliefs may be determined by
nothing human, but by some external permanency -- by something upon which
our thinking has no effect. Some mystics imagine that they have such a
method in a private inspiration from on high. But that is only a form
of the method of tenacity, in which the conception of truth as something
public is not yet developed. Our external permanency would not be external,
in our sense, if it was restricted in its influence to one individual.
It must be something which affects, or might affect, every man. And, though
these affections are necessarily as various as are individual conditions,
yet the method must be such that the ultimate conclusion of every man
shall be the same. Such is the method of science. Its fundamental hypothesis,
restated in more familiar language, is this: There are Real things, whose
characters are entirely independent of our opinions about them; those
Reals affect our senses according to regular laws, and, though our sensations
are as different as are our relations to the objects, yet, by taking advantage
of the laws of perception, we can ascertain by reasoning how things really
and truly are; and any man, if he have sufficient experience and he reason
enough about it, will be led to the one True conclusion. The new conception
here involved is that of Reality. It may be asked how I know that there
are any Reals. If this hypothesis is the sole support of my method of
inquiry, my method of inquiry must not be used to support my hypothesis.
The reply is this: 1. If investigation cannot be regarded as proving that
there are Real things, it at least does not lead to a contrary conclusion;
but the method and the conception on which it is based remain ever in
harmony. No doubts of the method, therefore, necessarily arise from its
practice, as is the case with all the others. 2. The feeling which gives
rise to any method of fixing belief is a dissatisfaction at two repugnant
propositions. But here already is a vague concession that there is some
one thing which a proposition should represent. Nobody, therefore, can
really doubt that there are Reals, for, if he did, doubt would not be
a source of dissatisfaction. The hypothesis, therefore, is one which every
mind admits. So that the social impulse does not cause men to doubt it.
3. Everybody uses the scientific method about a great many things, and
only ceases to use it when he does not know how to apply it. 4. Experience
of the method has not led us to doubt it, but, on the contrary, scientific
investigation has had the most wonderful triumphs in the way of settling
opinion. These afford the explanation of my not doubting the method or
the hypothesis which it supposes; and not having any doubt, nor believing
that anybody else whom I could influence has, it would be the merest babble
for me to say more about it. If there be anybody with a living doubt upon
the subject, let him consider it.
To describe the method of scientific investigation
is the object of this series of papers. At present I have only room to
notice some points of contrast between it and other methods of fixing
belief.
[Comparisons]
This is the only one of the four methods which
presents any distinction of a right and a wrong way. If I adopt the method
of tenacity, and shut myself out from all influences, whatever I think
necessary to doing this, is necessary according to that method. So with
the method of authority: the state may try to put down heresy by means
which, from a scientific point of view, seem very ill-calculated to accomplish
its purposes; but the only test on that method is what the state thinks;
so that it cannot pursue the method wrongly. So with the a priori
method. The very essence of it is to think as one is inclined to think.
All metaphysicians will be sure to do that, however they may be inclined
to judge each other to be perversely wrong. The Hegelian system recognizes
every natural tendency of thought as logical, although it be certain to
be abolished by counter-tendencies. Hegel thinks there is a regular system
in the succession of these tendencies, in consequence of which, after
drifting one way and the other for a long time, opinion will at last go
right. And it is true that metaphysicians do get the right ideas at last;
Hegel's system of Nature represents tolerably the science of his day;
and one may be sure that whatever scientific investigation shall have
put out of doubt will presently receive a priori demonstration
on the part of the metaphysicians. But with the scientific method the
case is different. I may start with known and observed facts to proceed
to the unknown; and yet the rules which I follow in doing so may not be
such as investigation would approve. The test of whether I am truly following
the method is not an immediate appeal to my feelings and purposes, but,
on the contrary, itself involves the application of the method. Hence
it is that bad reasoning as well as good reasoning is possible; and this
fact is the foundation of the practical side of logic.
It is not to be supposed that the first three
methods of settling opinion present no advantage whatever over the scientific
method. On the contrary, each has some peculiar convenience of its own.
The a priori method is distinguished for its comfortable conclusions.
It is the nature of the process to adopt whatever belief we are inclined
to, and there are certain flatteries to the vanity of man which we all
believe by nature, until we are awakened from our pleasing dream by rough
facts. The method of authority will always govern the mass of mankind;
and those who wield the various forms of organized force in the state
will never be convinced that dangerous reasoning ought not to be suppressed
in some way. If liberty of speech is to be untrammeled from the grosser
forms of constraint, then uniformity of opinion will be secured by a moral
terrorism to which the respectability of society will give its thorough
approval. Following the method of authority is the path of peace. Certain
non-conformities are permitted; certain others (considered unsafe) are
forbidden. These are different in different countries and in different
ages; but, wherever you are, let it be known that you seriously hold a
tabooed belief, and you may be perfectly sure of being treated with a
cruelty less brutal but more refined than hunting you like a wolf. Thus,
the greatest intellectual benefactors of mankind have never dared, and
dare not now, to utter the whole of their thought; and thus a shade of
prima facie doubt is cast upon every proposition which is considered essential
to the security of society. Singularly enough, the persecution does not
all come from without; but a man torments himself and is oftentimes most
distressed at finding himself believing propositions which he has been
brought up to regard with aversion. The peaceful and sympathetic man will,
therefore, find it hard to resist the temptation to submit his opinions
to authority. But most of all I admire the method of tenacity for its
strength, simplicity, and directness. Men who pursue it are distinguished
for their decision of character, which becomes very easy with such a mental
rule. They do not waste time in trying to make up their minds what they
want, but, fastening like lightning upon whatever alternative comes first,
they hold to it to the end, whatever happens, without an instant's irresolution.
This is one of the splendid qualities which generally accompany brilliant,
unlasting success. It is impossible not to envy the man who can dismiss
reason, although we know how it must turn out at last.
Such are the advantages which the other methods
of settling opinion have over scientific investigation. A man should consider
well of them; and then he should consider that, after all, he wishes his
opinions to coincide with the fact, and that there is no reason why the
results of those three first methods should do so. To bring about this
effect is the prerogative of the method of science. Upon such considerations
he has to make his choice -- a choice which is far more than the adoption
of any intellectual opinion, which is one of the ruling decisions of his
life, to which, when once made, he is bound to adhere. The force of habit
will sometimes cause a man to hold on to old beliefs, after he is in a
condition to see that they have no sound basis. But reflection upon the
state of the case will overcome these habits, and he ought to allow reflection
its full weight. People sometimes shrink from doing this, having an idea
that beliefs are wholesome which they cannot help feeling rest on nothing.
But let such persons suppose an analogous though different case from their
own. Let them ask themselves what they would say to a reformed Mussulman
who should hesitate to give up his old notions in regard to the relations
of the sexes; or to a reformed Catholic who should still shrink from reading
the Bible. Would they not say that these persons ought to consider the
matter fully, and clearly understand the new doctrine, and then ought
to embrace it, in its entirety? But, above all, let it be considered that
what is more wholesome than any particular belief is integrity of belief,
and that to avoid looking into the support of any belief from a fear that
it may turn out rotten is quite as immoral as it is disadvantageous. The
person who confesses that there is such a thing as truth, which is distinguished
from falsehood simply by this, that if acted on it should, on full consideration,
carry us to the point we aim at and not astray, and then, though convinced
of this, dares not know the truth and seeks to avoid it, is in a sorry
state of mind indeed.
Yes, the other methods do have their merits:
a clear logical conscience does cost something - just as any virtue, just
as all that we cherish, costs us dear. But, we should not desire it to
be otherwise. The genius of a man's logical method should be loved and
reverenced as his bride, whom he has chosen from all the world. He need
not condemn the others; on the contrary, he may honor them deeply, and
in doing so he only honors her the more. But she is the one that he has
chosen, and he knows that he was right in making that choice. And having
made it, he will work and fight for her, and will not complain that there
are blows to take, hoping that there may be as many and as hard to give,
and will strive to be the worthy knight and champion of her from the blaze
of whose splendors he draws his inspiration and his courage.
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