Toward a Process-Relational Christian Eschatology

The Christian vision of reality sweeps from creation to consummation. The story line is that God’s good creation fell away, that God entered into creation to restore and renew it, and that this restoration will be accomplished in the end of history when Christ comes again. (WCB 415)

This pithy summary of doctrine comes from two apologists for conservative, evangelical Christianity, North American style. It is based on the conviction that the Christian scriptures give a unified, consistent account of the nature and destiny of humanity and cosmos, that is at once existentially true (it speaks to our subjective need for order and meaning in our personal existence) and cosmologically true (it gives a true and adequate picture of the way our world objectively is and will be).

The value of process-relational philosophy for many Christian apologists has been both existential and cosmological. The work of its seminal figure, Alfred North Whitehead, is cosmology par excellence. Indeed in his magnum opus, Process and Reality, he sets out to elaborate "a coherent, logical, necessary system of general ideas in which every element of our experience can be interpreted" (PR 5). This cosmology takes into account the critical epistemology of David Hume, the relativistic physics of Einstein, and the broad, post-Darwinian paradigm of our world as evolutionary phenomenon. At the same time, Whitehead’s thought has been existentially attractive to Christian thinkers, whose understanding of the world is already attuned to what Whitehead calls "the brief Galilean vision of humility" that "dwells upon the tender elements in the world which slowly and in quietness operate by love" (PR 404). Such thinkers affirm Whitehead’s vision of a God who is characterized by responsiveness to us and reciprocity with us, and rejoice to find this vision in writings less sectarian than their own scriptures. For such thinkers are not content to impose Christian categories on the world by fiat, as some apologists tend to do, but look for verification of their vision in the "public" world round about them. They seek to find "ontological mooring," as it were, for the grammar of their faith. Thus Whiteheadian process-relational philosophy has yielded an impressive harvest of theological speculation in the doctrinal areas of God, God’s action in the world, Christology and, most recently, soteriology.1 Can process-relational thought function similarly in the area of Christian doctrine called "eschatology"? For this area of doctrine is particularly beset with thorny issues for contemporary thinkers.

Baptist pastor and theologian Val J. Sauer describes "biblical eschatology" as dealing with "God’s final acts toward his creation, the last days, the promise of the future, and the hope which grows Out of this promise." This Christ, already once revealed, will "appear a second time . . . to save those who are eagerly waiting for him" (Heb. 9:28) (EH 3). This statement, as does the citation with which I began this essay, reflects the uncritical belief that the biblical scenario for earthly, and indeed, cosmic history, will be surely and literally fulfilled. And yet it is precisely this confidence which seems so unrealistic, even fantastic, to many modern people, who nevertheless long for some ultimate justice, some ultimate affirmation of life over death.

At first blush it might seem that process-relational thought is not suited for ontological foundation work in this area of classic Christian doctrine, regardless of its successes elsewhere.

• Christian eschatological systems are based on a literalistic hermeneutic. Christian scripture provides privileged information which is presupposed to be true. All assertions of process-relational thought are to be judged by the criteria of "coherence," "applicability," and "adequacy" with respect to our experience (PR 6). Thus, there is no privileged information, and process theologians are free to sift the scriptures, as they do all experience, for reflections of that "brief Galilean vision" which prescribes a canon within the canon.

• Christian eschatology speaks of "the things that must soon take place" (Rev. 22:6). Process thought manifests "an inability to participate in this confident anticipation of a consummation of the historical process. Indeed history is really open." (PTP 77)

• Christian eschatology declares that "the end will come, when [Christ] hands the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power" (I Cor. 15:24), what Sauer calls (above) ‘God’s final acts". Process-relational thought describes as "the ultimate physical principle" the creative advance whereby ceaselessly "the many become one and are increased by one" (PR 26). In other words, process cosmology describes the world simply as it is -- open-ended becoming -- and the questions of beginning and ending, "Alpha" and "Omega," would seem to be out of bounds. As cosmology, process-relational thought means to reflect and illumine a world system presupposed as in place. Christian protology/eschatology is more properly a cosmogony, i.e., an explanation of the origin and purpose of the world system, which must, in the nature of the case, come from beyond the system if it exists at all.

The underlying issue in all of these areas of conflict is the issue of ultimacy, which is the issue in contention between process-relational thought and historic Christian orthodoxy. For instance, with reference to the issue broached above of the certainty of scriptural assertions -- their character as "privileged information" -- that certainty is derived from the ultimacy of the One who is their presumed origin. For Whitehead, "creativity" as universally characteristic of reality, so that reality simply is "creative advance," is ultimate, and God is creativity’s "primordial, non-temporal accident," that is, the original, pervasive exemplification of creativity (PR 10,25-8). In contrast, the Bible begins majestically, "In the beginning God created . . ." (Gen. 1:1), and Christ, God’s paradigmatic self-embodiment within the created process, is both "Alpha" and "Omega" (Rev.1:8, 22:6, 13). This issue of God’s ultimacy is focused with unusual clarity in the area of eschatology, where God is traditionally presumed to have "the last word." Thus it may be that the Whiteheadian vision, in which God brings about nothing unilaterally, is fundamentally unsuited for dialogue with Biblical eschatology. On the other hand, if one can bracket the cosmogonical question, the reference beyond the God-world system, and focus upon the journey within the system toward "the maximum attainment of intensity compatible with harmony that is possible under the circumstances of the actual situation" (PS 18:116), then perhaps one will find that the biblical images and the process-relational concepts are richly mutually illuminating after all. We shall now attempt such a "synoptic" reading of selected biblical images and relevant process-relational concepts to try this conjecture.

I. "Already and not Yet"

First of all, let us note that even many very conservative Christians recognize that alongside the predictions of a cataclysmic future in biblical eschatology, there is a strong element of what has been called, in C. H. Dodd’s classic phrase, "realized eschatology." That is, the fitting climax to human and cosmic history predicted in scripture is already, partially and incompletely, but unmistakably present in this present age. To quote Sauer again:

The type of eschatology that maintains the tension between the present reality of the kingdom of God [Lk. 10:23-24, Lk 9:22-23, Mk 1:15] and its future consummation [Lk 17:26-30, Mk 13:24-26, Mt 25:31-32] is "inaugurated eschatology." In the person and work of Jesus of Nazareth, the kingdom of God has come to men in history, bringing to them the knowledge of God’s kingly rule. (EH 5)

If process-relational thought can point our perceptions accurately to a pervasive presence of God in the world, ever with worldly occasions for human good, in spite of humanity’s sometime revolts and deviations from the divinely envisioned good; and if Jesus of Nazareth and the community that gathered around him and the history that flowed from him can be seen as exemplifying this divine presence in the world; then, in fact, process-relational thought, insofar as it is persuasive on its own terms, can be seen as giving ontological mooring to the "already" side of what Sauer calls "inaugurated" eschatology. It is just this sort of correlation that runs through John Cobb’s Christ in a Pluralistic Age, where he describes Christ as "creative transformation" and as grounding a community of creative transformation (CPA 21-4).

The process-relational model of God as the most extensive exemplification of primordial creativity, with every worldly occasion in its own process of becoming; the process-relational concept of God as the principle of order channeling the world’s becoming toward ever richer and more harmonious experience (the primordial nature); and the process-relational concept of God’s preservation of every worldly occasion in God’s own everlasting becoming (the consequent nature), with each such occasion evaluated and positioned for its greatest possible contribution to the divine life -- these perspectives on divine reality which process-relational thought claims to find exemplified in the very nature of things are separately and together congruent with and supportive of the biblical images and events which describe the "already" in inaugurated eschatology. "[I]n fact the kingdom of heaven is among you" (Luke 17:21). Like leaven in the loaf, this "already" makes its presence known in an unceasing flow of increments. The eschatological "not yet" is "God as the power of the future" -- the image lifted from scriptural faith and engraven in contemporary consciousness by Jurgen Moltmann and Wolfhart Pannenburg -- an image also very congenial to process thought. Indeed, Lewis Ford has said:

Instead of actualizing a determinate past, which is the basic activity of present entities, I propose we conceive God to be a future activity creating the conditions of the present. As an activity located in those spaciotemporal regions lying in the future of present occasions, God could nevertheless be in "unison of becoming" with them. God then "influences" them when her future activity passes over into their own present activity. (PS 11:172)

Again, the sticky wicket appears when we press the image of God as the future to ask if there is an absolute, pre-determined future toward which God is drawing us. The answer of Sauer and other traditional Christians must be "yes." The answer of a Consistent Whiteheadian must be "no." I have written about this impasse before (PS 18:11:110 ff.). and will return to it below.

II. The Creative Advance

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God; all things were made through him... (John 1:1-2)

The biblical God is not a static reality. This type of God is, as many process thinkers have noted, an import from classical Greek thought. Rather the biblical God is ru’ach -- wind, breath, spirit -- drawing the primordial chaos into form and fruitfulness (Gen. 1:1-2) and bringing to life the very dust of the earth in forming Adam (Gen. 2:7). At the same time this God is Logos -- not a mere vocable or a static logical structure, but a structural, structuring dynamic. Whitehead claims that it lies in the nature of things that the many enter into complex unity (PR 26). Again we are reminded of the fundamental divergence between traditional Christianity and process-relational thought on the issue of ultimacy. But whether the "nature of things" be grounded in God, or whether God be the primordial exemplification of "the nature of things" with respect to an independent, abstract "category of the ultimate," it is the case that both the biblical record and process-relational thought recognize a pervasive movement toward greater richness of experience as a generic feature of reality. And in this sense protology (the theory of beginnings) grounds eschatology. For God is relentlessly active, persistent and ubiquitous.

Whither shall I go from thy Ru’ach?

Or whither shall I flee from thy presence?

If I ascend to heaven, thou art there!

If I make my bed in Shed, thou art there! (Ps. 139:7-8)

God makes the best of everything, including

human lovelessness and the failure it entails. (LT 59, my emphasis)

We know that in everything God works for

good with those who love him... (Rom. 8:28, my emphasis)

He shares with every new creation its actual world... (PR 406)

God is the great companion -- the fellow

sufferer who understands. (PR 413)

The Lord is...not willing that any should

perish, but that all should reach repentance. (2 Pet. 3:9)

God in process-relational thought is the most extensive exemplification of the primordial creativity. In biblical thought God is its source and ground. Either way, the nature of things displays a ground of order and a relentless creative advance. This dual character of order and creative advance is at the same time before all things, with all things, and after all things. Strachan Donnelly says:

A grand, everlasting, ever-growing cosmos is experientially realized in and by God. Worldly actualities and the significant enduring societies they fashion objectively take their place as essential constituents within this final designing. Their individual characters, emotionally felt and woven together, form the vital harmony, which is God in his immediate concreteness. (PS 12:9)

Before eschatology is about the end of things as finis -- a concept that must appear mythological to many moderns, and contradictory to Whiteheadians, it is about the end of things as telos. That is to say that despite the refusal, misconstrual and failure to actualize God’s aim which characterize the world as we know it. God perseveres, and in God all things move toward "the vital harmony" (Donnelly) which is the divine purpose, ". . . that God may be everything to every one" (I Cor. 15.28). God is with every worldly occasion, and God is good. This is the beginning of eschatology.

III. The Kingdom of God

A central New Testament eschatological image is that of the "kingdom of God." If a king or monarch is one exercising unilateral power, then immediately there are problems for process-relational thinkers (not to mention the sexist connotations of the terminology). However, if the kingdom of God -- or alternatively, the kingdom of "heaven" -- means the state of affairs in which the love and justice of God become the norm rather than the exception in the social actuality that is the world, then there is a fruitful area for dialogue. Indeed, Whitehead himself uses the term "the kingdom of heaven" to describe God’s everlasting preservation of worldly events in God’s own ongoing actualization (PR 412-13). "This divine life is neither eternal," say Cobb and Griffin, "in the sense of timeless, nor temporal, in the sense of perpetual perishing. Instead it is everlasting, constantly receiving from the world but retaining what in the world is past in the immediacy of its everlasting present" (PT 122).

Jesus in his "inaugural address" in the synagogue in Nazareth quoted the prophet Isaiah, claiming that

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me to preach good

news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

and recovering of sight to the blind,

to set at liberty those who are oppressed,

to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord. (Luke 4:18-19)

Then he concluded, "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing" (Luke 4:21). And then he began travelling through the towns and villages of Galilee preaching, healing and "bringing the good news of the kingdom of God" (Luke 8:1). When his opponents asked when this kingdom was to appear, he answered them, "The kingdom of God is not coming with signs to be observed [e.g., as a cosmic catastrophe];...for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you" [or alternatively, "within you"] (Luke 17:20-21).

In the midst of the contradictions and the suffering of this present age, and given the "perpetual perishing" which carries away even the best of our tenuous arrangements, God is (again). "the great companion -- the fellow sufferer who understands" (PR 413). God, whose primordial vision of maximum intensity of experience combined with maximum harmony is offered to each individual occasion of experience in terms of its particular relevance for that occasion’s possible becoming, subsequently receives the occasion’s partial realization of this vision into the ongoing divine experience. Then "God transforms evil by experiencing it (together with the world’s goods) in everlasting perfect perspective, and he then passes this perfect vision back into the world for its benefit" (PS 11:177). On this model, Jesus as the Christ can be conceived as a focus of God’s offering back to the world this perfect vision. The kingdom of God is both present (in the words and deeds of Jesus and those in his train who strive to live it out in the world) and transcendent (in the divine reality which catches up our partial actualization of the divine will, preserves it, and offers us anew the readjusted vision of the kingdom).

For the perfected actuality passes back into the temporal world, and qualifies this world so that each temporal actuality includes it as an immediate fact of relevant experience. For the kingdom of heaven is with us today. (PR 413)

Is not God’s inclusion of every worldly occasion in God’s own everlasting actuality a sort of "judgement"? And yet perhaps a very benign judgement, in comparison with some of the apocalyptic images in scripture in which, for instance, the rich man is in torment in Hades with no possibility of surcease (Luke 16:19-31), the unrepentant evil are cast into the lake of fire (Rev. 10:11-15), etc.? But the biblical record itself preserves a very profound tension at this point. For instance, the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel says:

For thus says the Lord God: Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep, and will seek them out. As a shepherd seeks out his flock when some of his sheep have been scattered abroad, so I will seek out my sheep; and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered. ...I will seek the lost and I will bring back the strayed, and I will bind up the crippled and I will strengthen the weak, and the fat and strong I will watch over; I will feed them in justice. (Ez. 34:11-12, 16; see also Luke 15:1-32, 19:10)

And the Apostle Paul sings of the time when

every knee should bow,

in heaven and on earth and under the earth,

and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord...(Phil. 2:10)

And again, he predicts the coming of the kingdom through which "God may be all in all" (I Cor. 15:28).

Whitehead, for his part, puts it this way:

The results of destructive evil, purely self-regarding, are dismissed into their triviality of merely individual facts, and yet the good they did achieve in individual joy, in individual sorrow, in the introduction of needed contrast, is yet saved in its relation to the completed whole. The image, and it is but an image, under which this operative growth of God’s nature is best conceived, is that of a tender care that nothing be lost. (PR 408)

IV. Resurrection

The preservation of past actual occasions in the divine life takes the form of "objective immortality." Worldly occasions are "perpetually perishing." This is, in Whitehead’s words, the "ultimate evil in the temporal world" which is "deeper than any specific evil" (PR 401). In the "consequent nature" of God, each occasion of the temporal world is preserved as a datum for God’s everlasting self-actualization. These occasions, including human occasions, are thus as everlasting as is God. And in a sense God’s everlasting harmonization of all worldly occasions is the eschaton (PTP 79-81). God literally is "all in all."

But this part of Whitehead’s cosmology, which seems relatively straightforward, has unleashed a firestorm of controversy in the technical literature, centering around that most delicate and personal of all issues for us humans, our own personal survival. Is the Whiteheadian "eschaton" God’s only, or ours and God’s? Schubert Ogden declares that our obsession with our own subjective immortality

obscures the witness of Christian faith to the essential difference between God and man -- the Creator and the creature, the Redeemer and the redeemed....It is the very refusal to live, finally, solely from God’s love for us that I find involved in the setting up of our own subjective immortality alongside of our objective immortality in God. (USQR 161-2)

Marjorie Suchocki objects:

If God is to overcome evil wholly, there must be some "present" in which the individual fully realizes his/her redemption from evil in the depths of experience. The biblical writers use imagery of both realized and final eschatology to convey the assuredness of this present....(JR 291)

In a similar vein, Robert C. Neville says that

. . .the merely objective presence of the world’s events in the everlasting memory of God is not what Scripture means by resurrection.... (CG 95-6)

In the biblical tradition, our resurrection is a participation in Christ’s resurrection, construed as an historical event which contravenes the historical reality of his death, and thus -- in Whiteheadian terms -- interrupts the perpetual perishing of occasions. "For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive" (I Cor. 15:22). In company with Christ, "the dead in Christ will rise" (I Cor. 15:51; I Thess. 4:15); certainly they are presented in the New Testament imagery as "living," and not merely as "having lived."

Is this a hopelessly supernaturalistic intrusion into a naturalistic Whiteheadian worldview, an unassimilable "strange body"? I have elsewhere represented the resurrection of Christ as his assimilation into the consequent nature of God, in view of his entire obedience to and fulfillment of God’s ideal aim for his life, without the extensive negative prehension which must accompany the objective immortalizing in God of "sinful" human lives (RVA 214). If the consequent nature of God is in some sense the eschaton, an ongoing eschaton to be sure, then are we and Christ included in it as "living," or as "having lived"?

To even attempt to settle this question takes one into an area of the Whiteheadian worldview where many interpreters suspect that fundamental incoherencies lurk, the effects of which might extend far beyond the eschatological questions we are considering here. If Whitehead considers God’s becoming as that of one universally comprehensive, everlasting actual entity, then it would seem that God never reaches the satisfaction through which any of God’s data are determinately known. How then is there any "kingdom of God among us" in any definite sense, if God hasn’t reached satisfaction? It would seem that God can’t know it for Godself and we can’t have it definitely available as datum for our successive instances of becoming. It is this problem that has impelled some process thinkers to envision God as a "society" -- a togetherness of occasions in terms of a mutually prehended form -- and furthermore, a society with "personal order," that is, in which the members are related serially. The human self or "soul" is an example of such a personally ordered society; God on this model would be a vastly more extended -- spatially and temporally -- self’ analogous to us. But this brings its own problems, for God as a society does not have everlastingness in the sense Whitehead has described it.

Gingerly, I approach this problem of the subjective immortality of the "resurrected" into an everlasting God by envisioning God’s continuous process of becoming as comprehending the regions defined by all of the processes of becoming that are God’s creatures, even as the spacio-temporal regions coordinated by and responsive to the "presiding occasions" of our bodies include the regions defined by our various bodily occasions. It might then follow that God’s experience would include our creaturely experiences in their subjectivity by virtue of God’s including the regions in which those occasions form themselves. But does this model violate the privacy of subjective becoming as Whitehead defines it? Given that privacy, whether God is construed as a society or one actual entity, it seems that she and her included occasions would "know" one another only at the spacio-temporal thresholds of their respective satisfactions. Or does "unison of becoming" allow for shared, concentric interiorities?

At any rate, if process-relational thinkers can work through fundamental systemic problems relating to the nature of the self and the God-world relationship, perhaps we might solve as a by-product the question of a realistic envisioning of the resurrection life; if we can’t, then this mode of thought has problems more foundational than those at issue in this essay.

I should mention how ironic I found it that a title-search for material relating to eschatology in a process-relational mode yielded a plethora of titles dealing with the question of personal immortality, but a relative dearth of material dealing with the eschaton as a new corporate order. In biblical eschatology, the personal survival of the individual does not depend on any generic metaphysical traits of human souls themselves, but rather on the cosmic change of state that ushers in the new age. "For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first (I Thess.4:16). At this point, process-relational thought should be in its milieu. All actual occasions on this model are social to the core; they emerge as the occasions they are from their specific environments. If that environment is conditioned by the risen Christ and his continually expanding mystical body (I Cor. 1:15-20), as preserved in the consequent nature of God, and from thence re-presented to the world as principle of its possible apotheosis, then individual "survival" is radically relativized. As the individual has an identity in her brief span of time within this cosmic epoch relative to the quantity/quality of her relatants, so the individual will have an "everlasting" existence relative to the quantity/quality of her everlasting relatants -- the members of the mystical body of Christ, the "great cloud of witnesses" (Heb. 12:1), socially ordered through common positive prehension of the risen Christ. The controlling question should not be "Will the individual survive?," but rather "What sort of cosmic order will be promoted by the generalization of Christ’s relationship of supreme congruence with God’s loving aim for creaturely existence?"

V. The End

In an essay appearing in Process Studies 18/2, I attempted to speak to the latter of the pair of questions above under the paragraph heads "The Expansion of Christ," "Christ and the Building of God’s Body" and "Christ and the Eschaton" (PS 18:lO6ff.). David Basinger, in a thoughtful response to this essay, remarked that attempts to correlate/integrate biblical soteriology with Whiteheadian thought founder on the issue of whether or not God can unilaterally transform any person or thing (PS 18:117). The eschaton, under any guise, would seem to be a divinely determined transformation. If we take seriously the co-creative roles of God and world taught by process-relational thought, we cannot in truth say that there will be such-and-such a transformative constellation of events. But if Christ and his community of "creative transformation" (Cobb) are an embodiment of God’s love in the world, and therefore exert causal efficacy within it, they will tend to produce the kinds of changes in the world expressed in some biblical images of the eschaton. And the new aeon will be "present with a power and certainty as great as the size of God and the constancy of the divine love -- that is to say, as great as our understanding of real contingency in the divine-human ecosystem will allow" (RVA 216).

In full awareness of the above qualifications from a Whiteheadian perspective, I offer in conclusion a brief attempt to save and illumine the future, finis dimension of the already/not yet eschatological dialectic introduced above. As an exemplar in this attempt to envision the eschaton in a process perspective, we adduce Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, though we must take care to dissociate ourselves from the symptoms of divine determinism he manifests due to his classical view of God. Teilhard is helpful at this point because he does bring together in his thought an understanding of the world -- if not God -- as a thoroughly processive reality and a positive use of biblical imagery of the eschaton as finis. In The Future of Man Teilhard says:

If Man organizes himself gradually on a global scale in a sort of closed circuit, within which each thinking element is intellectually and affectivity connected with every other, he will attain to a maximum of individual mastery by participating in a certain ultimate clarity of vision and extreme warmth of sympathy proper to the system as a whole. (FM 278)

Thus Teilhard interprets the apocalyptic passages of the New Testament (viz., Mt. 24, Mk. 13) in terms of his image of the immanent Christ slowly unifying the world about himself. In this progressive unification, a new "organism" is created, the "Body of Christ" (I Cor. 12, Col. 1:15-20), with Christ as head and humanity as members. It is created incrementally -- the Church’s global mission of evangelization, explicit and implicit -- but it finally emerges explosively.

One day, the Gospel tells us, the tension gradually accumulating between humanity and God will touch the limits prescribed by the possibilities of the world. And then will come the end. Then the presence of Christ, which has been silently accruing in all things, will suddenly be revealed like a flash of light from pole to pole. (DM 133)

Teilhard’s imagery here implies the well-known reality of quantitative change, incremental in nature, ultimately producing qualitative changes, which seem to appear relatively instantaneously. (Again we note that the Bible itself presents us, alternately, with images of incremental change [leaven, seeds] and cataclysmic change [the last trump].) Water is heated, gradually, gradually -- 150°, 180°, 209° -- until, suddenly, it is vapor. Mental activity, presence-to-self, increases ever so slowly along the evolutionary axis of increasing physical complexity -- in particular of the central nervous system -- until, voila, we are thinking subjects. What these examples exemplify macrocosmically, quantum mechanics seems to find rooted microcosmically in the very nature of the physical world. And so, in the eschaton, we find a quantum leap into a new kind of divine-human relatedness.

Let us note that Teilhard, in faithfulness to biblical imagery, presents two contrasting models for this cosmic cataclysm. Either there will be a final, ultimate "convergence" (cf. Phil. 2:9-11) in which evil and discord reach the vanishing point, or there will be a "final ramification," an "ultimate paroxysm, involving the final discarding or rejection of some and the apotheosis of those who affirm God/Christ/Omega (PM 288). Whiteheadians might encounter a dilemma at this point, wishing to affirm, on the one hand, God’s "tender loving care that nothing be lost," and wishing to uphold, on the other hand, the tendency of creaturely freedom to resist any kind of ultimate unanimity. At any rate, the persistence of creative advance, and the living patience of God, would seem to bode well for a progressive enrichment of the cosmic environment as a whole even if some contribute to that enriched environment largely through being negatively prehended!

For Teilhard, the Christian church as (ideally) a universal community of human/divine love and shared idealism is the prototype of the movement of humanity as a whole toward a superhuman social reality organized around Christ/Omega as the ultimate attracting and unifying principle. This social reality can be construed, in a very real sense, as the body of God in the world. But we must not forget, as we track Teilhard on this point, that biblical images of the ultimate harmonization of the created order include the non-human elements of that order as well (cf. Isaiah 11:1-9, Rom. 8:19-23, Rev. 22:1-5). The eschaton is both the reparation of the human ruin created by estrangement from God (e.g., the "fall" of humanity, Gen. 3: 17ff) and a pan-environment renewal and transformation.

To imagine the eschaton as a radical change of state of the cosmos might imply finis to this "cosmic epoch," to return to Whiteheadian terminology, but would not necessarily imply any sort of ultimate finis. Rather, it could simply represent cosmic/human openness toward some now unimaginable newness on "the other side." This has been the epoch of self-realization through constant struggle, of the "fall" from innocence and undisturbed unity with God. What new model for history might present itself to a cosmos so harmonized with its creative ground that radical proximity and radical independence with respect to God will coincide rather than conflict?

 

References

CG -- Robert C. Neville. Creativity and God: A Challenge to Process Theology. New York: Seabury Press, 1980.

CPA -- John B. Cobb, Jr. Christ in a Pluralistic Age. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1975.

EH -- Val J. Sauer. The Eschatology Handbook: The Bible Speaks to Us Today About Endtimes. Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1981.

DM -- Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. The Divine Milieu. New York: Harper & Row, 1965.

FM -- Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. The Future of Man. London: William Collins Sons, 1964.

PM -- Pierre Teilhard de Chardin. The Phenomenon of Man. New York: Harper & Row, 1959.

JR -- Marjorie Suchocki. "The Question of Immortality." Journal of Religion 57/3 (July 1977): 288-306.

LT -- W. Norman Pittenger. The Last Things in Process Perspective. London: The Epworth Press, 1970.

PS 11 -- Lewis S. Ford. "The Divine Activity of the Future." Process Studies 11/3 (Fall 1981): 169-79.

PS 12 -- Strachan Donnelly. "Whitehead and Nietzsche: Overcoming the Evil of Time." Process Studies 12/1 (Spring 1982): 1-14.

PS 18 -- David Basinger, "Response to Wheeler" and David L. Wheeler, "Toward a Process-Relational Christian Soteriology." Process Studies 18/2 (Summer 1989): 114-17.

PT -- John B. Cobb, Jr. and David R. Griffin. Process Theology. An Introductory Exposition. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1976.

PTP -- John B. Cobb, Jr. Process Theology as Political Theology. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1982.

USQR -- Schubert M. Ogden. "The Meaning of Christian Hope." Union Seminary Quarterly Review 30/2-4 (Winter-Summer 1975): 153-64.

RVA -- David L. Wheeler. A Relational View of the Atonement. New York: Peter Lang, 1989.

WCB -- Alan F. Johnson and Robert E. Webber. What Christians Believe: A Biblical and Historical Survey. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1989.

 

Notes

1The literature in the process doctrines of God and Christ is vast. In the related areas of soteriology-ecclesiology, I would mention Marjorie Suchocki, God, Christ, Church (New York: Crossroads, 1982); Norman Pittenger, The Christian Church as Social Process (London: The Epworth Press, 1971) and my own A Relational View of the Atonement.

2This material is presented in expanded form in RVA 218ff.

Feminist Separatism — The Dynamics of Self-Creation

In responding to this article, I wish first to make my own perspective clear. I am not a Whiteheadian scholar, and my limited understanding of process thought has been developed primarily through contact with feminist scholars writing from that perspective. I bring to this issue of relatedness and separatism a blending of my own particular interests in feminist theory, identity formation, and the dynamics of creation. My own work in cosmogonic myth and the various images of creation and chaos these myths depict seems to me to connect with Howell’s discussion of the contact between radical relatedness and feminist separatism.

Perhaps the crux of the matter has to do with the way we understand creativity. The process of creation has generally been conceived in patriarchal culture as a solitary one. The lone God speaks, and the universe unfolds. This is the story we have been told. The realization that God was already in relation to the deep upon whose face was (and is) darkness generally goes unrecognized. In one Egyptian cosmogony, the creator God stands alone upon the primeval hillock which has emerged out of the waters of chaos. Once his place to stand has been established, he commences the cosmogonic project. So, from the perspective of hetero-reality, the creator hero stands alone. He creates by himself, out of his solitude.

But what if the object of the creative process is a Self? This is the creative process of woman-identified women which Janice Raymond describes as becoming "Self-created," an "original woman, not fabricated by man" (OFF 7). Common sense would indicate that another image of creation is required. As women in the process of Self-creation, we cannot go it alone, because without an original Self there is (to paraphrase) no "here" here, no place to stand, no solitary self to divide and conquer the chaos, no lone hero to speak the creation. As Raymond also observes, this is the process of a woman who

searches for and claims her relational origin with her Self and with women. She is not ‘the Other’ of de Beauvoir’s Second Sex who is man-made. She is not the relative being who has been sired to think of herself always in intercourse with men. And she does not deny her friendship and attraction for other women. She is her Self. She is an original woman, who belongs to her Self, who is neither copied, reproduced, nor translated from man’s image of her. She is, in the now obsolete meaning of original, a rare woman. (GFF 7)

Nancy Howell’s incorporation of Whiteheadian concepts seems to me very helpful here, because the process of creation is understood as always already a relationship. And Self-created women create themselves in the context of their friendships and attraction for other women. In affirming these relationships, an original woman dis-covers, re-members, her Self

Catherine Keller has also conjured these images in a vision of "wholeness not derived from separation at all, but growing organically within the flexible, infinitely complex web of relations -- within and without" (WKM 93). Most fundamentally, then, as women creating our Selves, we do not speak our creation with a solitary word. Rather, we create within the web of women who, as Nelle Morton so vividly describes, hear us into speech. (See, e.g., BI 127-128).

Separatism, understood as a woman’s creation of Self in passionate connection with others like her, is, in a sweeping reversal of patriarchal values, fundamentally relational. Howell’s incorporation of the doctrine of internal relations emphasizes the creative power of this relationality. "In the process of self-creation, we exist by virtue of our relationships." It seems clear to me that the feminist assertion of the interconnectedness of all things moves in the direction of perceiving this Self-formation process as emerging out of our relationships with other women.

With all this radical relatedness, it may be difficult to see the separation in feminist separatism. We know that to separate is to set apart, but if feminist separatism involves a parting of the ways, what is it that separatist women are leaving behind? As Howell notes, Raymond rejects the view of "scholarly proclaimers of hetero- relations" that the theory and reality of feminism starts with woman’s relationship to man (GFF 11). She rejects a limiting view of feminism as the quest for women’s equality with men in favor of radical feminism’s focus on "the autonomy, independence, and creation of the female Self in affinity with others like the Self’ (GFF 11).

This grounding of feminist separatism in women’s relationality with one another emphasizes the power generated when women affirm the strength of the "original and primary attraction of women for women (GFF 7). Audre Lorde makes this power explicit in her essay on the "Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power." Exploring the functions of the erotic, she emphasizes "the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy" (UE 56). She celebrates the vision of "women-identified women brave enough to risk sharing the erotic’s electrical charge without having to look away, and without distorting the enormously powerful and creative nature of that exchange" (UE 59). Here again, biophilic women are affirming the relationship between gynaffection, female power, and creativity.

Still, I find myself wishing to take seriously the separation which is such a significant aspect of this self-creation process. If it is not men from whom self-creating original women are separating, what are they leaving behind? An image comes to me of a time when I felt as if my own life had no meaning or value. As is probably typical of such times, I remember feeling deeply alone. And I also felt as if I were falling apart. The phrases are familiar, reflecting the "undoing" that is perhaps a key component of separation -- going to pieces, coming unglued, feeling all undone, having a breakdown. I was separating from myself, disintegrating. As old structures of my life no longer fit together in a coherent whole, I felt the fragmentation of the collapsing center. And in concert with so many women whose similar experiences had been invisible to me, I sought and found the tender support of a few close woman friends.

After a time, I experienced a realization that arrived with remarkable force and clarity. I came to understand that it is impossible to be alone, because I am in fact deeply connected with everything that is. And two emotions accompanied this realization -- the first was relief; the second was a deep sense of responsibility. Everything I do has an effect on everything. I had best be aware of what I do.

I believe that my personal experience reflects the relationality of feminist separatism which Howell addresses in this article. And I believe that my experience also reflects the self-creative process of the original woman, from coming apart, through relatedness with other women, to self-creation in the context of deep interrelatedness. It is important to affirm the relatedness. It is also important to acknowledge the experience of coming apart, of self-separation, which I believe is often a part of leaving patriarchal bondage behind.

It seems to me important to recognize that many women who commence this parting journey do not go away whole, happy, or hopeful. Although I greatly value the power of choosing separation in order to "release the flow of elemental energy and Gynophilic communication" (Daly), many separating women begin by just going away. Dis-membered, denied and disconnected, there may be little sense of energy to release. It seems to me that this is a critical, and perhaps too little affirmed, moment in the Self-creating process. Before we wake to the solidarity and gynergy of gynaffectionate women, we may need to dis-cover the healing that comes with just being left alone. Of course, as Daly makes clear in her assertion that everything that IS is connected with everything else that IS, there really is no "alone," but being relational for women does not mean that we know how to relate. It only means that we want to. And before we explore the deep connections of Be-Friending, we may need to sever the ties that bind.

In her pivotal article on "Compulsory Heterosexuality," Adrienne Rich highlights the isolation that many women feel as they risk this separation:

The fact is that women in every culture and throughout history have undertaken the task of independent, nonheterosexual, woman-connected existence, to the extent made possible by their context, often in the belief that they were the "only ones" ever to have done so (last emphasis mine). (CH 635)

As Howell makes clear, women’s relationality in patriarchal culture has been a function of hetero-relations. Woman has been for man. And, as both Daly and Raymond have observed, man in patriarchal culture is homo-relational. He is also for man. Who, then, is for her? Rejecting the estrangement from self and other women enforced by the patriarchal agenda, gynaffectionate women are dis-covering themselves in and with one another. But it is important to acknowledge that we do not thereby rid ourselves entirely of estrangement. As woman-touching and woman-loving women, we are cutting at the root of patriarchal power, a process which gynophobic culture finds very strange (and threatening) indeed. And all of the discussion about political correctness, all of the evidence we see of internalized woman-hatred and gynophobic attitudes in women, clearly reveal that gynaffectionate feminist separatism, while loosening our bonds, does not remove all that is alienating. As Daly observes, the deep differences among women reflect our terrible, powerful uniqueness.

Be-Friending involves the radical affirmation of woman-love that does not deny the differences but celebrates the power of reuniting with our own and other Female Selves. In order to accomplish this, we must be open not only to the erotic power we experience within ourselves but also to the erotic energy that moves among women. Such an affirmation raises issues concerning the nature of woman-touching and woman-loving relationships. The discussion concerning whether all women who reject hetero-reality are Lesbians does not seem to me to take us very far. I concur with Raymond that affirming all woman-identified existence and affection as Lesbian diminishes the particular journeys and choices of Lesbians while patronizing women who choose to remain in heterosexual relationships but do so "with clarity of mind, moral integrity, honest scrutiny of hetero-relational coercion, and with Gyn/affection" (GFF 15). However, these criteria present a challenge. I believe that Be-Friending requires a deep opening to the erotic bonds among women, so that even women who do not choose to identify as Lesbians feel and acknowledge the passion of woman-loving.

I finally wish to address, from my own non-Whiteheadian perspective, Howell’s Whiteheadian interpretation. First, it seems that coming to consciousness (awareness that reality is not hetero-reality) provides to women-identified women not only a place to stand from which to make judgments but also from which to engage in a new cosmogonic endeavor. We are not only dis-covering the universe; we are involved in universe-making. This realization highlights the importance of novelty in response to the world -- the introduction of an alternative potentiality. Gynaffectionate women are accomplishing more than the dis-covery of women’s Selves. We are functioning as co-creators.

A final word about worldlessness. It would seem that the more inclusive our actual world, the more expanded our potential for novel creations. However, there may well be a time and place for worldless dissociation. If feminist separatism involves, as I suspect it often does, coming apart as well as coming together, a rest in worldlessness may constitute for some a restoration of power which can then be transformed in radical relatedness to "expand the dimensions of the world, multiplying creative options for the future." But I do believe that there are times when what women need most is just to get away.

 

References

BI -- Nelle Morton. "Beloved Image." The Journey is Home.

CH -- Adrienne Rich. "Compulsory Heterosexuality." Signs (Summer 1980).

GFF -- Janice Raymond. "A Genealogy of Female Friendship." Trivia (Fall 1982).

UE -- Audre Lord. "Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power." Sister Outsider. The Crossing Press, 1984.

WKM -- Catherine Keller. "Wholeness and the King’s Men." Anima 11:2.

What is Wrong with the Mirror Image? A Brief Reply to Simoni-Wastila on the Problem of Radical Parti

Henry Simoni-Wastila argues in a recent issue of this journal (28.1-2) that Charles Hartshorne’s dipolar theism is plagued by inconsistencies that Hartshorne himself obliquely recognizes but which he has never successfully resolved. According to Hartshorne, God has direct experiential acquaintance with the feelings of every actuality. Yet, as Simoni-Wastila points out, there is a "radical particularity" about creaturely experiences that seems to make a fully sympathetic divine grasp of them impossible. For example, he asks what "could the passing of time or death mean for an eternal being?" (99). Or again, how could God "totally empathize with me in my joy and at the same time with others in their pain?" (101).

Simoni-Wastila’s preferred way of expressing the problem of radical particularity is to think of God’s experience as a mirror image of the universe (98,99,100,101,107,110,112). He asks "[Does the divine] level of compassion imply that God also feels exactly as we feel so that there exists an identical moment of the contingent within Divinity? Is God a mirror to the world?" (109). The dilemma suggested in these questions is this: If God is not a mirror of the world then God is not omniscient; if God is a mirror of the world then the glass shatters into as many fragments as the world contains -- creaturely experiences are so radically particular that no individual, including a divine one, could have them all as his or her own.

Simoni-Wastila concedes in an endnote that the mirror metaphor is not Hartshorne’s, but he maintains that the image "helps identify the specific claims included within the theory of divine relativity" as well as to "aid in locating problems" (115). The question, however, is whether the metaphor does justice to Hartshorne’s theological reflections. It is possible to recognize that there are unresolved tensions in Hartshorne’s metaphysics but still object that Simoni-Wastila’s metaphor gives rise to or at least aggravates the problem of radical particularity, as a carnival mirror can exaggerate one’s bulges.

What is wrong with the mirror image? The basic problem is that it misrepresents the relation of prehension, of "feeling of feeling." Hartshorne characterizes the relation this way: "In ‘feeling of feeling’ the subject of the first feeling is not identical with the subject (or subjects) of the second feeling. A feels how B feels. A’s feeling of B’s feeling has its own "how" or "subjective form," which is not that of B’s feeling" (Insights 344). Hartshorne is clear that A’s feeling is not a mere replica or reflection of B’s feeling. There is the added element of A’s reaction upon the feeling of B, A’s subjective form. For this reason, Hartshorne can say, "I feel how the other felt, I do not feel as the other felt. I see no contradiction here" (Creativity 199). It often happens, for example, that a scent -- like that of honeysuckle -- will bring back a vivid memory from ones childhood. The memory is colored by the response of the adult (the subjective form). Thus, the adult recalls how the child felt, but the adult recalls as an adult. Hartshorne would say that the adult-self feels the feelings of the child-self without thereby becoming identical to the child. This sort of example is à propos, for Hartshorne insists on the primacy of memory in perception (cf. Insights 355-57) and he models God’s knowledge of the world on our own knowledge of our own bodies and our past selves (cf. Omnipotence 134-35).

It is clear how Hartshorne would answer Simoni-Wastila’s questions quoted above. The divine level of compassion does not imply that God feels exactly as we feel. God is not a mirror -- that is to say, an exact reflection -- to the world. These answers allow Hartshorne to claim, without contradiction, that God can fully sympathize with our anxiety in the face of death without feeling fear for Him-Herself (Creative 263). Moreover, Hartshorne does not believe that his understanding of God’s experiential knowledge compromises omniscience. Nor would such an admission make any logical sense. It would have as a consequence that God could be all-knowing only by experiencing the world as an ignorant person does. It is not necessary that there be an identical moment of contingent ignorance within Divinity in order for God to fully sympathize with the experiences of the ignorant.

A non-theological example may help to make this point more forcefully. Suppose a little Japanese girl is separated from her parents while the family is vacationing in Paris. The girl speaks no French. A gendarme, who speaks no Japanese, guesses her plight and escorts her to help to locate her parents. Simoni-Wastila’s metaphor entails that one condition for the gendarme approaching the ideal of commiserating with the child -- the "identical moment" of feeling as the child feels -- is the extent to which he "mirrors" her ignorance of French. Put differently, the policeman’s fluency in French is one of the factors that prevent him from fully sympathizing with the lost child. Surely this is mistaken. There are lots of reasons why the officer might fail to be sympathetic, but knowledge of French is not necessarily one of them. Indeed, appreciating the language barrier between them could make him even more sympathetic, a sympathy he could eloquently express en français.

By parity of reasoning with the example of the gendarme and the Japanese girl, it is not necessary for God to share all creaturely defects in order to sympathize fully with the creatures. The differences between God and the creatures, themselves fully appreciated by God, may even increase the divine sympathy. There is much more that needs to be said about Simoni-Wastila’s interpretations of Hartshorne and about the resources within the Hartshorean corpus for addressing the problem of radical particularity Perhaps I have said enough to raise serious doubts about the mirror metaphor and its use in identifying problems in Hartshorne’s theology

 

Works Cited

Hartshorne, Charles. Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method La Salle, Illinois: Open Court, 1970.

___Creativity in American Philosophy. Albany: State U of New York P, 1984.

___Insights and Oversights of Great Thinkers. An Evaluation of Western Philosophy. Albany: State U of New York P, 1983.

___Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes. Albany: State U of New York P, 1984.

Simoni-Wastila, Henry "Is Divine Relativity Possible? Charles Hartshorne on God’s Sympathy with the World." Process Studies 28.1-2 (1999): 98-116.

Does Omniscience Imply Foreknowledge? Craig on Hartshorne

One of the ideas for which Charles Hartshorne is known is that God is omniscient but does not have absolute foreknowledge. In several recent works, William Lane Craig argues that there is nothing to commend Hartshorne’s view, that there are positive arguments against it, and that absurd consequences follow from it (PT 103; PS 16:201; cf. OWG 60). Unfortunately Craig misrepresents Hartshorne’s position. As a consequence, he underestimates the strength of Hartshorne’s views of omniscience. The purpose of this paper is two-fold: (1) to set the record straight on Hartshorne’s view of omniscience and (2) to reexamine Craig’s arguments to see what force they have against the position Hartshorne actually endorses. I will argue that there is something to commend Hartshorne’s view, that the positive arguments against it are unsuccessful, and that, as far as Craig has shown, no absurd consequences follow from it.

Hartshorne on Omniscience and Foreknowledge

Hartshorne defines "omniscience" as "knowledge of all things, perfect knowledge" (ER 546). He characterizes divine foreknowledge as God’s view of all events that, from our standpoint, are future (ER 284). It is noteworthy that, as Hartshorne explains it, the concept of foreknowledge does not specify whether the knowledge of future events is temporally prior to those events. The Boethian God who surveys all of time in a single eternal vision has foreknowledge in Hartshorne’s sense even though it is incorrect to say that such a God knows future events in advance (CP 116). Equally, a God whose existence is temporal and who is prescient of all future events has foreknowledge in Hartshorne’s sense. The idea that future events are known -- not the knowing of them as future -- is the essential meaning that Hartshorne assigns to the concept of divine foreknowledge. Craig may be correct that, in their critiques of omniscience, process theists often fail to include the views of those who affirm God’s temporal knowledge of all past, present, and future events (PS 16:198; PT 97). However, this is not a failing in Hartshorne’s writings.

Hartshorne argues that divine foreknowledge does not follow from omniscience unless it can be shown that divine foreknowledge is possible. But divine foreknowledge is not possible unless future events exist, as fully determinate, to be known. Hartshorne denies that future events exist in this sense (JP 60:604). More precisely:

The future is irreducibly potential rather than actual, and this means in some degree, however slight, indeterminate rather than determinate. Becoming is the passage from incomplete definiteness to definiteness. It is creation (MTG 30).

If perfect knowledge is knowledge of the world as it actually exists, then "omniscience is only possible as itself temporal -- as knowing new facts when there are new facts to know, but always knowing all the facts there are at the time" (ER 284). This is Hartshorne’s central argument concerning divine knowledge and is found throughout his writings (HJ 37:251; CSPM 135; AW 13; WVR 15; OOTM 38-39; cf. HPPT). The reasoning is deceptively simple: perfect knowledge knows things as they are. The past is determinate and the future is partly indeterminate. Therefore, perfect knowledge knows the past as determinate and the future as partly indeterminate.

A characteristic feature of Hartshorne’s central argument is that it concerns God’s knowledge of events and not God’s knowledge of truths about events. At one point, Hartshorne alludes to the distinction, made famous by Bertrand Russell, between knowledge of things and knowledge of truths. Knowledge of things sometimes involves an immediate awareness of an object that Russell calls knowledge by acquaintance. Knowledge of truths does not require a direct awareness but applies solely to beliefs, convictions, or judgments about what is the case (PP Chapter V). According to Hartshorne, God’s knowledge is best conceived as a knowledge by acquaintance (ER 547). This is not to say that God cannot have knowledge of truths. However, Hartshorne argues that if God’s knowledge is to be conceived as the highest form of knowledge, it must be conceived as a knowledge by acquaintance. Hartshorne follows Whitehead in viewing divine knowledge as a form of participation in the feelings of the creatures. Without participation, Hartshorne says, omniscience "would be only an abstract and inadequate knowledge of the creatures" (CSPM 263; cf. HPPT).

Since Hartshorne’s central argument concerns God’s knowledge of things, it is a mistake to construe it as concerning God’s knowledge of truths. Craig makes this mistake. According to Craig, Hartshorne’s reason for denying God’s foreknowledge is that "future contingent statements cannot be true. If they cannot be true, then obviously they cannot be known to be true. If they cannot be known to be true, then God cannot know future contingents" (PS 16:199; PT 99). Craig does not say where he found this argument but it is not the argument that Hartshorne presents. Hartshorne’s argument is not that future events cannot be known because statements about them cannot be true; rather, as we have seen, Hartshorne argues that future events cannot be known because they are not fully determinate.

Once one is clear about Hartshorne’s argument, it is apparent that it is much stronger than Craig allows. Brian Haymes notes that knowledge by acquaintance requires the existence of the object known (CKG 28). It makes no sense to say that one knows by acquaintance something that does not exist. Thus, if future events do not exist, then not even God could know them. Or, more perspicuously, in Hartshorne’ s preferred terminology, if future events do not exist as determinate, then God cannot know them as so existing. Craig says that he shares Hartshorne’s view that "the future is not on an ontological par with the present, that is to say, future events do not in any sense exist" (PS 16:199).1 Unless he denies that one cannot know things that do not exist, he should accept Hartshorne’s view that God does not have foreknowledge.

God’s Knowledge of Truths

Craig’s interpretation of Hartshorne’s views may result from his adopting the idea that perfect knowledge is to be construed as a kind of cosmic storehouse of information, past, present, and future. Many accounts of omniscience treat omniscience in this way and discuss only God’s knowledge of truths (cf. PAG 3). While Hartshorne understands omniscience as fundamentally a knowledge by acquaintance. he does not deny that God has knowledge of truths. However, he believes that truth itself has a temporal status.

Truth is some sort of correspondence and the temporal status of the truth is the same as the correspondence. There can be no timeless relation to something whose mode of being is temporal, for relation to X includes X, and if X comes into being, so does the relation (MIGB 74:54-55).

If truths come into being then God would know them as coming into being. Or again, if God knows all and only tine statements, then as new truths emerge in the creative advance, God comes to know them.

If it is true that new facts come into being then the only question is how this truth is to be represented in language. Aristotle apparently believed that propositions about future contingents have an indeterminate truth value (CDI 140). In 1939, Hartshorne defended the Aristotelian view. He argued that if the future is indeterminate as to detail "detailed propositions about it must, to correspond with it, have indeterminate truth values" (APA 27). This view requires that, "as Aristotle seems to have said, the Law of Excluded Middle is valid only of past and present, but not of the future" (APA 28).2 With the publication of Man’s Vision of God (1941), Hartshorne abandoned his earlier position, suggesting that it would be unwise to deny the law of excluded middle for future tensed propositions (MVG 140). In a recent work, Hartshorne reaffirms this conviction:

Aristotle’s way of expressing the indeterminacy of the future seems to consist in suspending the law of excluded middle as applicable to certain propositions . . . I believe that the law of excluded middle as to truth values is best accepted even for propositions about the future. (IO 45).

Hartshorne came to see the Aristotelian solution to the problem of future tensed propositions as unsatisfactory.

If the law of excluded middle is to be retained for propositions concerning future contingents, then how is the indeterminacy of the future to be expressed in language? Hartshorne finds the clue to solving this problem in the unfolding causal history of the universe that makes certain events inevitable and others merely probable. Rather than speaking of indeterminate truth values, however, Hartshorne speaks of indefiniteness as a predicate:

We need no third truth value, but we do need a third type of predicate for future moments of process besides ‘definitely P’ and ‘definitely not P’, namely ‘indefinite with respect to P’. (CSPM 135)

To conceive of indefiniteness as a predicate for future moments of process allows one to put statements about the future into three categories, corresponding to the formally exhaustive triad of all/none/some. Either (a) all causal possibilities include P (definitely P), (b) no causal possibilities include P (definitely not P), or (c) P is included in some but not all causal possibilities (indefinite with respect to P). As Hartshorne notes, this view does not require the sacrifice of the law of excluded middle. "The truth of one of the three (a, b, or c) is the falsity of the other two" (CSPM 135).

Craig claims that Hartshorne’s view of future tensed propositions sacrifices what he calls the traditional law of excluded middle. According to this law, for any statement and its contradictory, one must be true and the other false. According to Craig, "Hartshorne’s position with regard to future contingent statements is that any such statement and its contradictory are both false" (PS 16:198; PT 96). As evidence for his interpretation, Craig notes that, for Hartshorne, statements of the forms ‘x will occur’ and ‘x will not occur’ are both false where x is a future contingent. Craig does not mention Hartshorne’s repeated insistence that, technically, such statements are contraries, not contradictories (JP 61:476; MIGB 74:49; CSPM 16). For Hartshorne, the strict meaning of ‘x will occur’ is ‘all causal possibilities include the occurrence of x’; the strict meaning of ‘x will not occur’ is ‘no causal possibilities include the occurrence of x.’ The meaning Hartshorne assigns the statements makes them contraries, not contradictions. It follows that Hartshorne’s view does not sacrifice the traditional law of excluded middle.3

Although Hartshorne’s view does not violate the traditional law of excluded middle, his view requires that the principle of bivalence be rejected. According to this principle, the probability of something’s being P is 0 if and only if the probability of its being P is not 1 (FP 5:188). For Hartshorne, propositions concerning an indeterminate future have a probability greater than 0 and less than I. On the other hand, for classical theists, like Craig, the probability calculus must be a concession to human ignorance of what the future will hold. For classical theists, there could be no probabilities between 0 and 1 ,from the divine standpoint, except insofar as God understands that, from a creaturely standpoint, the future is uncertain. According to this view, whatever is uncertain for the creatures is certain for God. If God’s standpoint represents the final truth of things, and if classical theism is true, then the principle of bivalence is true. Hartshorne denies the classical theistic view of divine knowledge, and with it, the principle of bivalence.

Hartshorne is aware that the strict meanings that he proposes for ‘x will occur’ and ‘x will not occur’ differ from the ways such expressions are sometimes understood (MIGB 74:52). According to Paul Horwich,

. . . most of us do believe that some definite course of future events will occur whether determined or not. We naïvely make a distinction between what will happen and what must happen. And such a distinction is recognized in practical affairs when we give credit (e.g. by paying off bets) for correct predictions (AT 32).

One may question whether "most of us" really believe that a definite course of future events will occur -- as Horwich knows, Aristotle did not believe this. Nor, apparently, did Charles Dickens when he had Scrooge ask the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, "Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of the things that May be, only?" (CC 128). Nevertheless, it is true that Hartshorne’s technical meanings for future tensed propositions are not necessarily presupposed by the average person. If one says, prior to the 1980 Kentucky Derby, "Genuine Risk will win the race," one does not thereby imply that all causal possibilities include Genuine Risk’s winning the race. But neither, it seems, does one imply that it was true, prior to the race, that Genuine Risk would win. Horwich thinks that the paying of bets indicates otherwise. However, bets are paid only after the race, only after it is definitely the case that Genuine Risk has won. Thus, the truth or falsity relevant to a wager is the truth or falsity of a present or a past tensed statement, not a future tensed statement. The appeal to ordinary language and gambling behavior does not settle the issue of the truth value of future contingent statements.

If there is a brief answer to why one should adopt Hartshorne’s view of future tensed propositions it is that it does not commit one to the principle of bivalence. Richard Purtill notes that, if the principle of bivalence is true, then "probability theory simply collapses into standard propositional logic" (FP 5:188). This consequence seems too high a price to pay to preserve certain intuitions about the omnitemporality of truth.

Craig’s Arguments

Craig offers three arguments against what he considers to be presupposed by Hartshorne’s views of truth and the future. It will be instructive to see what, if any, force they have against the ideas that Hartshorne actually holds.

Before looking at Craig’s arguments, let us briefly examine what he takes to be presupposed by Hartshorne’s views. Craig claims that Hartshorne’s views about truth and the future presuppose "a crude view of truth as correspondence." According to this crude view, "in order for a statement to be true, the reality described by the statement must actually exist at the time at which the statement is true." This view is crude because "only present tense statements require that the events they describe exist contemporaneously with the truth of the statement" (PS 16:199; PT 99).

It is not clear why Craig believes that Hartshorne’s ideas about truth and the future presuppose the crude view of truth as correspondence. We have seen that Hartshorne holds to a kind of correspondence theory of truth, but it is not the view that Craig describes. To repeat, Hartshorne believes that the past is determinate and the future partly indeterminate. This asymmetry of past and future is mirrored linguistically in the triad of predicates, definitely/definitely not/indefinite. Now, none of this presupposes that an event must exist contemporaneously with the truth of the statement. The theory, however, does require that an event must have the ontological status of determinateness in order to have the predicate of definiteness. With this point of clarification, let us turn to Craig’s arguments. For convenience the arguments are labeled Al, A2, and A3.

AI: According to Craig, the truth of a present tense statement entails the prior truth of the future tense version of the same statement. Consider the two statements:

(1) It is raining (uttered on April 13).

(2) It will rain on April 13 (uttered prior to April 13).

Craig says that these statements have the same truth value (at the time of their utterance) because they make the same claim about the facts, viz, rain on April 13. Craig notes the absurdity of supposing, with Hartshorne, that it is possible for (1) to be me and (2) to be false (PS 16:200).

We have seen that Hartshorne construes statements like (2) in a technical sense, as meaning that all causal possibilities include the occurrence of rain on April 13. If rain on April 13 is truly a contingent event, then it is not the case that all causal possibilities include the occurrence of rain on April 13, and in Hartshorne’s technical sense, (2) would be false. This does not mean that (1) cannot be true. All that is entailed by the truth of (1) is that some causal possibilities include the occurrence of rain on April 13. Hartshorne notes that a paradox, similar to the one that concerns Craig, results when a false or inexact scientific law is ‘verified.’ Following Karl Popper’s lead, Hartshorne suggests that the decisive test of a prediction is falsification, not verification (MIGB 74:47). Thus, (2) may be false but ‘verified’ or corroborated by the truth of (1); but the falsity of (1) conclusively falsifies (2). In any event, the apparent absurdity of combining the truth of (1) with the falsity of (2) results from ignoring what Hartshorne means by statements like (2).

Undoubtedly, Craig would not accept Hartshorne’s technical meaning for future tensed propositions. Thus Craig may persist in finding a problem with combining the truth of (1) with the falsity of (2). But, of what philosophical significance is this fact? We have already noted that neither the truth nor the falsity of Hartshorne’s technical meanings are necessarily presupposed in ordinary linguistic usage. Indeed, ordinary language can fuel the intuitions of Hartshorne as well as Craig. As Hartshorne notes, "People commonly hesitate, in this and many other matters, between two or more meanings . . .(MIGB 74:52). Consider, for example, two sentences, uttered prior to April 13:

(2) It will rain on April 13.

(3) It may not rain on April 13.

If (2) is true, then (3) is false. Yet, Craig apparently believes that it is possible for both statements to be true -- for (3) expresses the contingency of rain on April 13 and (2), according to Craig, is neutral as between the contingency and necessity of rain on April 13. To rid himself of the paradox, Craig is free to marshal his own technical meanings for "will" and "may not." From that point, the discussion will involve the relative merits of the technical vocabularies of the competing positions in illuminating and/or solving the relevant philosophical issues. (We have already noted a rather weighty argument in favor of Hartshorne’s view, viz, that it does not commit one to the principle of bivalence.) Given the vagueness of intuitions and the inexactness of ordinary language, it seems advisable to raise the debate to the level of technical vocabularies.

A2: If future contingent statements cannot be true because the events to which they refer do not yet exist, then past contingent statements cannot be true because the events to which they refer no longer exist. But past contingent statements can be true, as even Hartshorne admits. Therefore, future contingent statements can be true.

This argument betrays Craig’s misunderstanding of Hartshorne’s view of truth and the future. For Hartshorne, past contingent statements are true because the reality to which they refer is determinate. The future, however, is partly indeterminate. Thus, the possibility of assigning truth to past contingent statements carries no necessary implication for assigning truth to future contingent statements.

A3: Craig claims that a tensed proposition can be put into a tenseless form. For instance:

(4) It rained on April 13

can be rewritten in tenseless form as:

(5) On April 13, it rains.

Although Craig acknowledges that (4) and (5) are not synonymous, he says that they have the same truth value. But the "tenseless versions are always true or false if they are ever true or false" (PS 16:200). Therefore, future contingent statements can be true.

This argument begs the fundamental question against Hartshorne. Craig offers no reason to suppose that (5) does not become true. He simply asserts that the tenseless version of a statement is "always true or false." According to Hartshorne, "the notion that dates can be assigned from eternity is one of the fairy tales -- or controversial assumptions -- which haunt this subject" (MIGB 74:51).

Conclusion

If one held to the crude view of truth as correspondence, or if one denied the law of excluded middle as applied to future contingent propositions, then Craig’s arguments would pose a serious challenge to one’s views. Hartshorne holds to neither of these views; and this accounts for the fact that Craig’s arguments will not be very convincing to Hartshorneans. Once Hartshorne’s views get a fair hearing, it is clear that they are more subtle and less easily refuted than Craig allows.

References

 

APA -- Charles Hartshorne. "Are All Propositions About the Future Either True or False?" Program of the American Philosophical Association: Western Division, April 20-22, 1939, 26-32.

AT -- Paul Horwich. Asymmetries in Time. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1987.

AW -- Charles Hartshorne. Aquinas to Whitehead: Seven Centuries of Metaphysics of Religion. Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1979.

CC -- Charles Dickens. A Christmas Carol. New York: James H. Heineman, 1967.

CDI -- Aristotle. Categories and De Interpretatione. Trans. J. L. Ackrill. Oxford: Clarendon, 1963.

CKG -- Brian Haymes. The Concept of the Knowledge of God. New York: St. Martin’s, 1988.

CP -- Boethius. The Consolation of Philosophy. Trans. Richard Green. Indianapolis, IN: Bobbs-Merrill, 1962.

CSPM -- Charles Hartshorne. Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method. La Salle, IL: Open Court, 1970.

ER -- Charles Hartshorne. "Foreknowledge, Divine" and "Omniscience." An Encyclopedia of Religion. Ed. Vergilius Ferm. Secaucus, NJ: Popular Books, 1945.

FP 5 -- Richard L. Purtill. "Fatalism and the Omnitemporality of Truth." Faith and Philosophy 5:2 (April 1988): 185-192.

HPPT -- Donald Wayne Viney. "God Only Knows? Hartshorne and the Mechanics of Omniscience." Hartshorne, Process Philosophy and Theology. Ed. Robert Kane and Stephen Phillips. Albany, NY: SONY Press, 1989.

HJ 37 -- Charles Hartshorne. "The Reality of the Past, The Unreality of the Future." Hibbert Journal 37:2 (January 1939): 246-257.

IO -- Charles Hartshorne. Insights and Oversights of Great Thinkers An Evaluation of Western Philosophy. Albany, New York: SONY, 1983.

JP 60 -- Charles Hartshorne. "Real Possibility." The Journal of Philosophy 60:21 (Oct. 10, 1963): 593-605.

JP 61 -- Charles Hartshorne. "Deliberation and Excluded Middle." The Journal of Philosophy 61:6 (Sept. 3, 1964): 476-477.

MIGB 74 -- Charles Hartshorne. "The Meaning of ‘Is Going to Be."’ Mind 74:293 (January 1965): 46-58.

MTG -- Charles Hartshorne. "Grounds for Believing in God’s Existence." Meaning, Truth, and God. Ed. Leroy Rouner. Notre Dame & London: University of Notre Dame Press, 1982.

MVG -- Charles Hartshorne. Man’s Vision of God and the Logic of Theism. Chicago: Willet, Clark, 1941.

OOTM -- Charles Hartshorne. Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes. Albany, New York: SONY Press, 1984.

OWG -- William Lane Craig. The Only Wise God: The Compatibility of Divine Foreknowledge and Human Freedom. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1987.

PAG -- Jonathan L. Kvanvig. The Possibility of an All-Knowing God. New York: St. Martin’s, 1986.

PP -- Bertrand Russell. The Problems of Philosophy. London: Oxford University Press, 1973.

PS 16 -- William Lane Craig. "Process Theology’s Denial of Divine Foreknowledge." Process Studies 16:3 (Fall 1987): 19S-202.

PT -- William Lane Craig. "Divine Foreknowledge and Future Contingency." Process Theology. Ed. Ronald H. Nash. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1987.

WVR -- Charles Hartshorne and Creighton Peden. Whitehead’s View of Reality. New York: Pilgrim, 1981.

 

Notes

1Although Craig believes that future and present are not on the same ontological footing, he apparently believes that past and future are on the same ontological footing. His second argument against Hartshorne’s view of truth (A2) indicates that he believes that the past and the future are, alike, nonexistent.

2Jules Lequier apparently advocated the Aristotelian view: ". . . between contingent past things and contingent things to come there is this difference: of two contradictory affirmations concerning contingent past things, one is true, the other false; but of two contradictory affirmations concerning contingent things to come, neither the one nor the other is true, both are false" (Oeuvres complètes, ed. Jean Grenier. Neuchatel, Suisse: Editions de la Baconnière. 1952, p. 194).

3 Nor is Hartshorne’s position on the law of excluded middle inconsistent as Craig claims (PS 16:20l; PT 114). The alleged inconsistency arises because, according to Craig, Hartshorne holds that (1) contradictory statements about future contingents are both false, and (2) it is not the case that contradictory statements about future contingents are both false. The weakness in Craig’s allegation, as I have shown, is that Hartshorne does not endorse (I).

In addition to the charge of inconsistency, Craig finds fault with Hartshorne’s claim that the contradictory of "x will occur" is "either x will not occur or, at least, it may not occur" (MVG 101). According to Craig, "The contradictory of any statement ‘p.’ is ‘not-p,’ and not, as Hartshorne would have it, ‘not-p or possibly not-p’" (PS 16:201; PT 114). George Shields is surety correct in interpreting Hartshorne to be speaking loosely, "meaning by ‘negative’ a ‘denial’ of a statement, which can be either a contrary or contradictory" (George W. Shields, "Fate and Logic: Cahn on Hartshorne Revisited," The Southern Journal of Philosophy, 1988, vol. XXVI, n. 3, p. 376). Craig’s eisegesis notwithstanding, Hartshorne’s position on the law of excluded middle is neither inconsistent nor in violation of elementary rules on how to form the negation of a statement.

Philosophy After Hartshorne

The assessment of a philosopher’s importance by his or her contemporaries is a risky business, for future generations have a way of unmaking the judgments of their predecessors.1 Yet, by standard measures, Charles Hartshorne (1897-2000) was one of the premiere philosophers of the twentieth century. At the celebration of Hartshorne’s centenary, George R. Lucas, Jr. reported that Hartshorne is cited in The Philosopher’s Index at "rates characteristic of Wittgenstein, Whitehead, Heidegger, Sartre, and other acknowledged giants of the century" (86). Lucas also noted that Hartshorne was an intrepid defender of the claims of metaphysics in a century noted for its anti-metaphysical genius. While many influential voices were explaining what speculative philosophy cannot accomplish or even proclaiming an end to it, Hartshorne was trying to show what it can and has accomplished. To paraphrase Lucas, Hartshorne’s was a redoubtable metaphysic, in tune with the times in terms of its attention to logic, language, and science, and Hartshorne himself was a philosopher capable of standing toe to toe with the likes of Lazerowitz, Wisdom, Ryle, Russell, Ayer, Catnap, Von Wright, and Quine, and of earning their respect, if not always their assent (93).

The dedication of the twentieth volume of the Library of Living Philosophers (LLP) to Hartshorne’s philosophy is itself a sign of his importance. The book demonstrates the range of Hartshorne’s interests and competence, which included aspects of psychology (sensation) and ornithology (oscines) -- his first (Philosophy and Psychology of Sensation) and twelfth books (Born to Sing) were devoted to these subjects. He was known as a theologian but he presupposed no sectarian point of departure. His dialogue with non-Western traditions -- Buddhism and Hinduism in the LLP volume -- set him apart from narrowly focused theological perspectives. In keeping with this cosmopolitanism, Hartshorne’s attitude was a refreshing combination of respect for and obliviousness to disciplinary boundaries. He traveled abroad often, relied on authorities in fields outside his expertise, and actively sought out and invited the criticisms of those of whom he was most critical. He believed, and acted as if he believed, that progress in philosophy is possible, if only philosophers honestly face each other’s arguments and not simply try to defend their own "castle of ideas" (Auxier and Davies 62).

Hartshorne called longevity his "secret weapon" and he was quick to cite good luck as a factor in his success ("Some Not Ungrateful" 123). In one of the articles published here he agrees with Karl Popper that, "worldly fame or success is mostly a matter of luck. Those who deny this are probably much luckier than they know" ("Darwin and Some Philosophers," endnote 14). To long life and good fortune, however, must be added a staggering vitality and productivity. It is doubtful that any philosopher has written so much for so long -- twenty books, over four hundred articles and reviews, and a voluminous correspondence, written over a period of eighty-four years.2 In his eighth and ninth decades he published dozens of articles, reviews, forewords, and seven major books. In addition, he contributed to four books devoted exclusively to his thought, giving detailed replies to sixty-two essays by fifty-six scholars (Cobb and Gamwell; Kane and Phillips; Sia; and Hahn). His responses fill approximately one fourth of the pages in these books. Also of note is that late in his nineties, he gave editorial advice on the first published volume of his correspondence (Auxier and Davies 3).

The journal Process Studies, founded in 1971, can be traced to Hartshorne’s influence and it is only fitting that it now devotes a special focus issue to his work. This also seems an appropriate place to take stock of Hartshorne’s influence in philosophy. His longevity and life-long productivity gave the philosophical community time to begin to estimate his contributions, even during his lifetime (e.g., Reck; Peters; Lucas). My focus here is primarily descriptive: to indicate the arenas of Hartshorne’s greatest influence and the reasons for it. In Hartshorne’s case, the number of philosophically interesting ideas exceeds the ideas that have, thus far, been widely influential.3 One learns from Hartshorne that a thinker’s greatest ideas are not necessarily the ideas that have the greatest influence. He was fond of arguing that what passes as Platonism is not the best of Plato (Insights, chapter 3). With this in mind, I conclude this introduction with a discussion of an aspect of Hartshorne’s philosophy that has so far received slight notice: the question of God and evolution. Hartshorne’s is a voice of moderation in the noisy extremes that presently dominate this controversy. The paper published here on Darwin will also help draw attention to this dimension of Hartshorne’s thought -- as Platonism is not the best of Plato, so Darwinism may not be the best of Darwin.

Peirce, Whitehead and the History of Philosophy

One of Hartshorne’s greatest legacies was to highlight the importance of the works of other philosophers. In 1925 he was assigned the task of editing the mostly unpublished philosophical papers of Charles Sanders Peirce (donated to Harvard by Peirce’s widow in 1914 at the urging of Josiah Royce). Paul Weiss later joined the project. Together, Hartshorne and Weiss edited the first six volumes of the Collected Papers of Charles Sanders Peirce, published between 1931 and 1935. For the first time, philosophers had available to them a substantial selection of Peirce’s writings, making them aware of the "range and depth of Peirce’s work" (Peirce, xi). As John Smith says, although the study of Peirce In our day "approaches the magnitude of an industry, it was not always so (Preface to Freeman, 9).4 The most visible evidence of Smith’s observation is the massive effort of the Peirce Edition Project, involving a team of internationally recognized advisors and scholars, to produce a chronological edition of Peirce’s philosophical writings. This edition -- at this writing, in its sixth of a projected thirty volumes -- will supersede the Hartshorne-Weiss edition. Nevertheless, Hartshorne and Weiss must be credited for their part in drawing attention to the works of one who is now commonly referred to as the greatest philosopher America has produced.

Hartshorne also helped to promote Whitehead’s reputation. Never Whitehead’s student in the technical sense, he graded papers for him, attended his lectures, and began an in-depth study of his writings about the same time as he was working on the Peirce papers. Hartshorne’s notes from Whitehead’s lectures of 1925-26, published here and edited by Roland Faber, are the earliest testimony of his serious interest in Whitehead. He is universally recognized as having a pre-eminent place alongside the first-generation interpreters of Whitehead like Dorothy Em met, A. H. Johnson, Ivor Leclerc, William Christian, and Victor Lowe. Woodbridge’s 1977 primary-secondary Whitehead bibliography lists 76 items by Hartshorne, more than twice as many as any of those just named (and only nine less than their combined total); the index has 145 listings for "Hartshorne" compared to a combined total of 53 for the five other scholars. The point is not that more is better; rather, the numbers reflect the consensus among Whitehead scholars about Hartshorne’s place among them. The magnitude of Hartshorne’s influence has led some to try to wrest Whitehead from a too Hartshornean interpretation. Be that as it may Hartshorne can be thanked for presenting Whitehead in largely non-technical terms and for not allowing Whitehead’s writings to become the exclusive occupation of scholarly exegetes.

Hartshorne believed that Peirce and Whitehead were not widely enough appreciated in philosophy and that occasionally they were not appreciated for their best insights; for these reasons he was often their champion. More than this, he was sensitive to the fact that the writing of philosophy’s history can be at once technically competent and narrow He praised the "philosophical greatness achieved in American philosophy, from Peirce to Santayana, but he complained of the cultural chauvinism in failing to recognize it.5 According to Hartshorne, "One might about as easily reach great heights in philosophy without benefit of the work done in modern America as to reach them in physics without using the work of modern Germans" (Creativity 11). On the other hand, Hartshorne’s approach to the history of philosophy was less a history of traditions and persons than a history of ideas. He believed that in too many histories of philosophy, "Minor points by great philosophers are dealt with, often with loving care, but major points by minor philosophers are missed" (Creative 86). Hartshorne’s attitude is well illustrated in Philosopher’s Speak of God. A unique feature of the book is the inclusion of philosophers, both well-known and obscure, from both Eastern and Western traditions. Alongside the writings by Plato, Aristotle, Thomas, Hume, and Kant, are selections from Ikhnaton, Buddhism, Ramanuja, Iqbal, and Lequyer.6

Hartshorne’s approach to philosophy was rarely if ever parochial, a characteristic no doubt encouraged by his many trips abroad. He appreciated the relevance of literature and science for philosophy. I noted above his work in psychology and ornithology, but it is also worth remembering that he minored in English Literature at Harvard. Three of the papers published here, on Troland, on Aquinas and the three poets, and on Darwin clearly illustrate this breath of interest. This is not to say that Hartshorne had no blind spots. A reader’s report of his Insights and Oversights rejected the manuscript in part because detailed exegesis of philosophical texts is missing. Nor is there a lack of published complaints about Hartshorne misrepresenting this thinker -- e.g., Thomas (Burrell 78f) -- or undervaluing that thinker -- e.g., Hegel (Smith 501-02). Hartshorne can be defended against these charges (cf. Devenish; Shields, "David B. Burrell") and he could himself concede some truth in them (cf. Hahn 709). Suffice it to say that exposition and textual analysis are not his strength. On the other hand, Hartshorne can be counted on to highlight unappreciated ideas of great thinkers and great ideas of unappreciated thinkers.

The Ontological Argument and the Case for Theism

Hartshorne’s most widely known -- I do not say best known -- work may be his rehabilitation of the ontological argument for God’s existence, long considered a subtly ingenious but fallacious piece of reasoning. It is now a commonplace that he probably wrote more on the ontological argument than any other philosopher -- a book, a substantial part of two others, and about twenty articles, replies, reviews, and forewords. Although it is safe to say that most philosophers reject the argument, few are now satisfied with parroting Gaunilo or Kant and critical treatments of the argument acknowledge Hartshorne’s contributions.

Hartshorne accomplishes principally three things in his discussions of the argument. First, he shows that one may discern two versions of the argument in Anselm and Descartes, one of which is more properly a modal argument, not obviously vulnerable to textbook refutations. Hartshorne makes this point explicitly in Philosophers Speak of God (96f.), seven years prior to Norman Malcolm’s "Anselm’s Ontological Arguments" which evoked more than a dozen replies within the first two years of its publication (Hick and McGill 367-68). Second, beginning with his dissertation in 1923, Hartshorne defended and refined his presentation of the argument (Viney, Charles 45-57). He was the first to publish a formalized version of the argument, using the calculus of modal logic ("Logic of the Ontological Argument" 471; Logic of Perfection 50-51). In this he set the precedent for standards of rigor in future discussions.

The third Hartshornean contribution to understanding the ontological proof has more far-reaching implications, for it concerns the interpretation of the modal operators used in the argument. Hartshorne followed Peirce in thinking of time as objective modality: necessity is what is true of all times, impossibility is what is true of no times, and contingent possibility is what is true of some times but not others. In Hartshorne’s view, there is no such thing as a merely possible world, but only possible world states. Thus, Hartshorne’s semantics for the modal operators in the ontological argument is constructed along the lines of a de re modality of temporal becoming rather than a de dicto modality of sets of consistent sentences -- Goodwin (1978) is admirably clear on this point in his book. Hartshorne challenges the critics of the argument to construct a more plausible semantics that will work not only for a criticism of Anselm’s reasoning, but also for ordinary purposes of understanding possibility (Man’s 301).7

Despite his fondness for the ontological argument, Hartshorne never put the burden of the theistic case on this piece of reasoning alone. Throughout his career he employed a multiple argument strategy which, following Basil Mitchell, philosophers commonly refer to as a cumulative case. Hartshorne’s cumulative case is called "the global argument" (Creative chapter XIV). He argues that it is unreasonable to expect theism to stand or fall with a single argument. Arguments in philosophical theology, analogous to arguments in history, science, law, or mathematics, can be mutually reinforcing, the weaknesses of some being compensated for by the strength of others. In Hartshorne’s opinion, the weakest premise of the ontological argument is the proposition, "It is not the case that the existence of God is impossible." Hartshorne uses versions of the cosmological, design, epistemic, moral, and aesthetic arguments to buttress this claim. The other arguments depend on the ontological in the sense that the God to whose existence they conclude cannot be conceived to exist with the possibility of not existing. It is this claim that separates the global argument from the cumulative cases of others (whether theists like F R. Tennant and Swinburne or atheists like J. L. Mackie and Michael Martin) who understand the affirmation or the denial of the existence of God as a logically contingent proposition. The non-contingency of propositions pertaining to divine existence is what Hartshorne called Anselm’s discovery or Anselm’s principle.

According to Hartshorne, it is a mistake, given Anselm’s principle, to weigh empirical probabilities for or against the existence of God. The principle entails that if God exists, God’s existence is not conceivably falsifiable, but if God does not exist, God’s existence is not conceivably verifiable. Hartshorne also avoids a strictly deductive format (although he need not have). He presents each element of the global argument as a mutually exclusive but logically exhaustive set of options. For example, the design argument looks like this:

A1 There is no cosmic order.

A2 There is cosmic order but no cosmic ordering power.

A3 There is cosmic order and ordering power, but the power is not divine.

T There is cosmic order and divine power (Creative 281).

The argument is filled out by trying to show that the theistic option is more intellectually satisfying and involves less paradox than the atheistic options (likewise with the other elements of the global argument). There is no question of a demonstration of the existence of God, for it is always possible to resist the "conclusion" (T) by finding fault with one or more of the "premises" (negations of A1, A2, or A3). According to Hartshorne, "The only thing that the proposed form puts pressure on people to do, and that I think constitutes the essential element in rational procedure in metaphysics, is to face the dilemmas, trilemmas, or quatrilemmas that their beliefs or disbeliefs confront them with" (Foreword to Viney, Charles x). For this reason, after 1970, he stopped referring to the arguments as proofs.

In Hartshorne’s view, following Peirce, metaphysics is not a game to be played from the sidelines where one’s own metaphysical commitments (or hunches) go unquestioned. It is contrary to Hartshorne’s approach to rest content with the merely negative conclusions that the theist has failed to meet a procedural burden of proof (à la Antony Flew) or even that the skeptic has failed to defeat the theist’s own supposedly properly basic beliefs (à la Alvin Plantinga). All metaphysical options are in play, none to be privileged over others. Nevertheless, the global argument has never attracted much scholarly attention (although see Viney, Charles and Boyd). Moreover, Hartshorne himself in the last decade of his career, put much more emphasis on a particular table of options for thinking about God and the world as a way of displaying the advantages of his own metaphysics ("The Aesthetic Dimensions" 17; "God, Necessary and Contingent" 296; "Can Philosophers" 17). The change of emphasis in Hartshorne’s writings from the global argument to the table of options is well illustrated in two of the papers published here. "God as Composer-Director and Enjoyer, and in a Sense Player, of the Cosmic Drama" dates to 1987; the six arguments of Creative Synthesis are mentioned and two are summarized. "Thomas Aquinas and Three Poets Who Do Not Agree With Him" dates to 1991; here, it is the table of options that is mentioned.

All of the options listed in the table are stated as early as Creative Synthesis (266, 271; cf. "Metaphysical" 183); however, Hartshorne’s friend, Joseph Pickle, revised the model by suggesting the 4 x 4 matrix (a fact Hartshorne never failed to mention). The purpose of the table is to apply a pair of metaphysical contrasts to God and the world (in this case, necessity and contingency) and display all logically possible permutations. Upper case letters are used for divine modalities of necessity and contingency (N, C) while lower case letters are used for worldly modalities of necessity and contingency (n, c). The zeros, says Hartshorne, are "interpreted broadly" to mean either impossibility or having no modal status ("God, Necessary and Contingent" 297). The reversal of the order -- NC as opposed to cn -- is meant as a reminder of the contrast between N and n: the necessity of God’s existence is the necessity of an individual, whereas the necessity of the world is the necessity that the set of non-divine individuals not be empty.

 

 

 

Necessary and I. God II. God wholly III. God necessary IV. God impossible or

Contingency as Applied wholly contingent and contingent in no modal status

to God and the World necessary different respects

1. World wholly necessary N.n C.n NC.n O.n

2. World wholly contingent N.c C.c NC.e O.c

3. World contingent and N.cn C.en NC.cn O.cn

necessary in different

respects

4. World impossible or N.o C.o NC.o O.o

no modal statue

 

 Hartshorne considered the table to "furnish a genuinely new argument for my neoclassical theism, nor is there anything like it for any other theism" (Zero 83). In brief, the "new argument" involves, at a minimum, the following: (1) NC.cn includes all that is positive in rows I and II and lines I and 2; Hartshorne argues that the most general conceptions cannot lack instantiation and that both sides of the necessity/contingency contrast should be retained. (2) NC.cn, like the other alternatives on the diagonal from N.n to O.o, allows for an experiential basis for God-talk. (3) O.o is the most false view and NC.cn is the most removed from it and hence is most true (Zero 83-84). Hartshorne considers the elements of the global argument to play a supporting role in the new argument" ("God, Necessary and Contingent" 308) -- for instance, the design argument shows up problems in O.cn. A full exposition of the argument would surely involve careful attention to the meaning of the zeros.8

The Varieties of Theism and the Openness of God

Hartshorne was justly proud of this table, for it is an elegant summary of much of what he took himself to have accomplished in his pursuit of metaphysical understanding. From the time of Man’s Vision of God (1941), he complained that discussions in philosophical theology lacked logical rigor. They failed to distinguish the varieties of ways of conceptualizing God and thereby committed the fallacy of many questions. Hartshorne’s table shows that the disjunction "theism or atheism" or the slightly more sophisticated "traditional theism, pantheism, or atheism" are far from exhaustive. To be sure, one may locate the standard options on Hartshorne’s matrix: Thomistic theism (Nc); Stoic or Spinozistic pantheism (N.n); and d’Holbach’s atheism (O.n). The table also invites one to pair up other formally stated positions with what philosophers and theologians have actually believed. One may find Sartrean atheism (O.cn) or extreme or acosmic Advaita Vedanta (N.o); there remain a variety of theistic perspectives: Aristotle’s (N.cn), John Stuart Mill’s (C.n), William James’ (Cc) Jules Lequyer’s (NC.c), and Hartshorne’s (NC.cn).

In the paper on Thomas and the three poets Hartshorne says that each of the sixteen options has two subdivisions, depending on whether one accepts or rejects Plato’s World-Soul analogy for God (cf. Zero 83). For example, NC.cn describes the views of both Whitehead and Hartshorne, but only Hartshorne accepts Plato’s analogy. This brings the total options to thirty-two. In fact, there are far more formal options than this. As Hartshorne notes, comparable tables can be constructed for any pair of metaphysical contrasts, such as infinite/finite or eternal/temporal (Hartshorne denies that the mind/body distinction is a metaphysical contrast). For any pair of metaphysical contrasts there is a 4 x 4 table (= 16), and hence, for any two pair in conjunction, the number of formal alternatives is 16 x 16 (256). To generalize, if n equals the number of pairs of contrasts to be included, the number of formal options is 16² (or 16² x 2 to include those accepting and those rejecting the World-Soul analogy).

Another way in which the table summarizes Hartshorne’s contribution to philosophical reflection on the meaning of "God" is illustrated in the third column. God is characterized as, in different respects, necessary and contingent. This idea runs counter to the regnant tradition of Western theology Philosophers of the medieval period, taking their hint from Plato (Republic, Bk 2), Aristotle (Physics, Bk 8 and Metaphysics, Bk 12), and a few passages of Scripture (Num. 23.19; Mal. 3.6;Jas. 1.17) denied of perfection any contingent attributes. The most perspicuous expression of this idea of deity is Thomas’ declaration that "the creatures are really related to God" but "In God there is no real relation to creatures . . ." (Summa Theologica I, Q 13, a.7). For Thomas, there are no contingent aspects of God, in part because nothing the creatures could do could have any effect on God (the denial of contingency in God also implies that God is not self-changed in any way). The great reformers, Martin Luther and John Calvin, agreed in this denial, as did most philosophers of the modern period, from Descartes to Kant. Hence, the only theism taken very seriously was under the first column -- God wholly necessary This group of views, related with conceptual ties stronger than what Wittgenstein called family resemblance, can without exaggeration be called "classical theism."

So weighty was this tradition that any suggestion that the divine might be other than how classical theism conceived it to be was treated as a changing of the subject. Hartshorne challenges this attitude in three ways. First, he reminds philosophers that, whether one surveys intellectual history or one engages in a formal analysis of theistic options (as in the 4 x 4 table), there is no single theistic view. Second, he points out the logical problems in classical theism. Finally, he demonstrates how it is possible to conceive God as, in different respects, necessary and contingent. Generalized to apply to any pair of metaphysical contrasts, this is Hartshorne’s doctrine of dual transcendence. God is eminently, but in different respects, necessary and contingent, infinite and finite, absolute and relative, being and becoming, cause and effect, and so on. When he was accused of denying God’s transcendence he would reply that he believed in twice as much transcendence as others.

Classical theists understood that their theology was not without problems. It never did fit well with the Biblical witness, where God is in constant interaction with the creatures and is affected by their decisions -- hardly the picture of a God devoid of contingency (see Rice’s contribution to Pinnock et al. 11-58). Anselm (Proslogion VIII) puzzled over how God could be compassionate -- literally, to "suffer with" -- yet be totally unaffected by creaturely joys and sorrows. The specter of pantheism was resisted by positing a free creative act in God whereby the universe is sustained in existence ex nihilo. Hartshorne points out the contradiction in saying both that God is wholly necessary (i.e., in no respect could have been otherwise) yet makes a contingent decision (i.e., a decision that could have been otherwise). Hartshorne notes other problems as well. How could God perfectly know a contingent world without the particular items of divine knowledge sharing this contingency?9 Aristotle saw this contradiction and denied God’s knowledge of the world. Thomas saw the contradiction and inverted the cognitive relation in God; citing Augustine with approval, Thomas avers that God does not know the world because it exists; it exists because God knows it (Summa Theologica I, Q 14, a.8). But this brings Thomas full circle to the contradiction of a wholly necessary being making a contingent decision to create its own objects of knowledge -- only now there is the further problem of reconciling God’s causative knowledge with human free will.

In the paper printed here on Thomas, Hartshorne refers to the Angelic Doctor’s claim that we cannot know what God is but only what God is not (cf. Summa Theologica I, question 3). This is the famous via negativa or negative way, which Hartshorne accused of "metaphysical false modesty" (Divine 35) and of being "scandalously illogical and arbitrary" (Divine 78)10 Proponents of the negative way denied that God is in any way contingent, finite, relative, or dependent. Yet, this supposes that there is something in the idea of divine perfection incompatible with them. In other words, some positive knowledge of God is required -- hence the charge of metaphysical false modesty. Nor did the negative theologians succeed in avoiding positive statements about God: God is creator, all-loving, and all-knowing. To be sure, there was always the proviso that the words "creator," "love," and "knowledge" are unique in their application to God; but "unique" is not the same as "merely negative." Finally, Hartshorne notes that some negations were valued above others. For example, God is said to be not finite and hence infinite, but God is not said to be not infinite and hence finite. When applied with rigorous consistency, the negative way implies that God is neither finite nor infinite, but what is this but an admission that neither negations nor affirmations can be made of God? Proponents of the negative way, however, avoided this consistency. Few would want to press the claim that the negation "God is not love" is closer to the truth than the affirmation "God is love."11

Hartshorne speaks of the "monopolar prejudice" of classical theism in favoring one of a pair of metaphysical contraries over the other. If God is in no contingent, relative, or dependent then these properties are in way all ways representative of imperfection. Hartshorne was fond of pointing out that this ignores the testimony of experience which knows nothing of the total devaluing of these terms. For example, there are more and less admirable ways of being relative or dependent. The parent who is wholly unaffected or unmoved by a child’s illness, living in "perfect" bliss as the child suffers, is hardly a good parent. Again, there is the Biblical witness that suggests that God’s love is manifested precisely in being moved by the waywardness and suffering of the creatures. Hartshorne’s alternative of dual transcendence holds that, in whatever ways metaphysical contraries can be exemplified in eminent ways, God is characterized by them. God is, in different but uniquely excellent ways, necessary and contingent, absolute and relative, infinite and finite, and so forth. Thus, in contrast to the monopolar God of classical theism, Hartshorne’s God is dipolar.

Hartshorne notes that there is no contradiction in the NC option if God is not necessary and contingent in the same respect. He distinguishes different logical levels at which metaphysical contraries apply to God. He draws a three-fold distinction among essence (the most abstract feature of what a thing is), existence (the fact that a thing is), and actuality (the particular characteristics that qualify an existing thing). For example, "That I shall (at least probably) exist tomorrow is one thing; that I shall exist hearing a blue jay call at noon is another" (Hartshorne, Logic of Perfection 63). The difference between the speaker and God is that God’s continued existence is not merely probable. The speaker’s existence is contingent whereas God’s is necessary. However, the experience of hearing a blue jay at noon is as contingent for the speaker as it is for God (or alternately, God’s knowledge that the speaker hears a blue jay at noon is contingent). Moreover, in the divine case, essence (what God is) and existence (that God is) are the same.12 Thus, Hartshorne usually speaks of the distinction between existence and actuality. Hartshorne summarizes the case in this way: "That God exists is one with his essence and is an analytic truth . . . but how, or in what actual state of experience or knowledge or will, he exists is contingent in the same sense as is our own existence" (Divine 87)13

The distinction between existence and actuality, more than any other, is at the foundation of Hartshorne’s neoclassical or dipolar theism. David Tracy referred to the distinction as "Hartshorne’s discovery" (Tracy 259) and Hartshorne remarked that he hoped to be remembered for it (Cobb and Gamwell 74). The distinction allows Hartshorne to preserve the best insights of classical theism while remedying its greatest oversights. For example, the existence and the essence (Hartshorne sometimes says character) of God are, in Hartshorne’s view, necessary immutable, independent, eternal, and infinite; but the actuality of God is contingent, mutable, dependent, temporal and finite. Hartshorne’s theory allows one to say, without contradiction, that God is perfect in love, knowledge, and power and that God’s love, knowledge, and power are constantly changing to respond in perfect ways to the decisions of the creatures and worldly processes. The idea of a change in God was anathema to classical theists because it was viewed as a kind of metaphysical virus that infects the whole of the divine reality; if God is in any sense contingent, then the very existence of God is contingent. Thomas is very clear on this point (Summa Contra Gentiles, Bk I, 16.2). Thus, Thomas persists in thinking of God in Aristotelian categories (customized to Christian beliefs) as the unmoved mover (Summa Theologica I, Q 2, art. 3). Hartshorne teaches one to think of God as "the most and best moved mover" (Zero 6, 39).14

The distinction between existence and actuality is no mere ad hoc device invented to escape contradiction. It is an instance of what Hartshorne calls the logic of ultimate or metaphysical contrasts (Creative chapter 6; Zero chapter 7). Existence and actuality are related by the same general principles that govern other ultimate contrasts such as necessity and contingency, independence and dependence, everlasting and temporal, and abstract and concrete (to name four of the twenty-one contrasts that Hartshorne lists). First, Hartshorne maintains that the contrasts are ultimate or metaphysical in the sense that they cannot fail of exemplification in experience. Second, he says that the sets of contrasts are proportional to one another; for example, necessity is to contingency as independence is to dependence, or as everlastingness is to temporality. Third, any particular set of contrasts is related by a two-way but asymmetrical necessity; for example, to exist is to be in some actual state or other, but to be in any actual state is to exist. This last example illustrates why Hartshorne thinks of existence as abstract vis-à-vis actuality, which is the concrete. By the principle of proportionality, existence is to actuality as the abstract is to the concrete. Thus, one may infer the existence of a thing from any actual state it is in (like hearing a blue jay call at noon), but from its existence one may infer only that it is actualized somehow. This is the reason why Hartshorne could say that he claimed to know so very little about God -- it was only the divine essence or character as somehow actualized that he claimed to know. He remarked that, "what we fail to know about the Eminent Actuality can scarcely be exaggerated" ("Mysticism" 469).

There is evidence that Hartshorne’s critique of classical theism and his vigorous defense of dipolar theism irrevocably changed the landscape of philosophical theology. It is not that Hartshorne has an army of followers; those who might be called Hartshorneans are more like a cadre. Moreover, Hartshorne’s most famous students could hardly be called his disciples (e.g., John B. Cobb, Jr., Schubert Ogden, William Alston, and Martin Gardner), and some are sharply critical of his views (e.g. Richard Rorty and Huston Smith). Nevertheless, Hartshorne convinced quite a few people from a variety of orientations to call into question the normative status of classical theism. A surprising number of Thomists now concede that the denial of real relations in God is not worth defending (Whitney 75-81). This is not to say that they have adopted neoclassical theism, but they recognize that some revision of Thomism is in order that brings it closer to this aspect of Hartshorne’s thinking. W. Norris Clarke can even speak of God as the "Supreme Receiver gathering in His consciousness all that creatures do" and responding accordingly and appropriately to it (Clarke 93). Thus, Clarke and some other Thomists now accept, in some sense, what Hartshorne referred to in 1963 as "divine openness to creaturely influence" (Wisdom, 92).

A group of Protestant Evangelicals use Hartshorne’s phraseology, "the openness of God," to express their belief in divine passivity. 1-Iartshorne wrote a foreword to Richard Rice’s dissertation, Charles Hartshorne’s Concept of Natural Theology, which unfortunately was never published. However, Rice’s 1980 book The Openness of God (later retitled: God’s Foreknowledge & Man’s Free Will) shows clear evidence of Hartshorne’s influence. William Hasker reports that Hartshorne’s The Divine Relativity convinced him that the relation from God to the creatures is as real as the relation of the creatures to God (Cobb and Pinnock 216-17). Stephen Franklin summarizes the situation succinctly in his review of Ronald Nash’s Process Theology, a book of readings highly critical of process thought. Franklin notes that, though the contributors to the volume are opposed to process thought as a framework for Christian theology, process thinkers have at least elicited agreement from them concerning the issues of God’s real relations to the world, divine passibility, and divine temporality. Franklin calls this a "major shift in the evangelical interpretation of deity -- a shift away from classical theism" (Franklin 135).15 This is not a debate confined to academic journals. Two recent issues of Christianity Today were devoted to "the openness debate" (see Hall and Sanders).

Divine Power and Theodicy

Although Hartshorne often discussed the problem of evil in connection with other issues, he devoted only one article to the topic ("New"). Nevertheless, his ideas about divine passivity and passibility are relevant to it. If God is open to creaturely influence then, in Hartshorne’s view the concept of divine power must be rethought. He argued that the traditional idea that God is able to unilaterally decide the events of the world is "not even coherent enough to be false" ("Philosophy" 86). Hartshorne’s alternative is that what happens can never be the result of the decisions of a single agent, even if the agent is God. God’s role as a cosmic ordering power does not entail the ability to determine every detail of the world order. Thus, the risk of tragedy or conflict is real and is a result of multiple freedom. It follows that any version of the problem of evil that presupposes that God has the power to create a world without risk is mistaken.

In the paper published here on Thomas and the three poets, he speaks of the "fundamental silliness" of the idea of a God who predetermines the creatures to be sinful and then punishes them for it everlastingly. He praises Omar Khayyám, and Edward Fitzgerald’s translation of Khayyám’s poem, for an elegant refutation of this idea. Here are two quatrains (numbers LXIX and LXX) from Fitzgerald’s translation of the Rubayyat that illustrate Hartshorne’s point.

What! From his helpless Creature be repaid

Pure Gold for what he lent us dross-allay’d --

Sue for a Debt we never did contract,

And cannot answer -- Oh the sorry trade!

Nay but for terror of his wrathful Face,

I swear I will not call Injustice Grace;

Not one Good Fellow of the Tavern but

Would kick so poor a Coward from the place.

It requires a theological fascism to justify this kind of arbitrary use of power by God; for the view to which Khayyám and Hartshorne object, in the divine case, at least, might makes right. This is the sort of deity Hartshorne described as a "tyrant" (cf. Omnipotence 691). Hartshorne denies that God in any sense inflicts suffering on others. On the contrary, God is affected by creaturely suffering -- in Whitehead’s words, which Hartshorne was fond of quoting, "God is the fellow-sufferer who understands" (351).

It was left to David Ray Griffin and Barry Whitney to address the issues of theodicy more systematically from the perspective of process philosophy. Griffin notes that when his first book on theodicy was published, the solution of process theology to the problem of evil was largely ignored. However, in the years after that book, the process perspective was taken seriously enough to evoke numerous responses, calling for Griffin’s second book. By 1983, John Hick had included, in his justly influential introduction to the philosophy of religion, process theodicy as one of three main Christian responses to the problem of evil (Hick 41; Griffin, Evil 1). It should be noted, however, that there is nothing specifically Christian -- nothing that could not be used by Jews, Muslims or other monotheists -- about the philosophies of either Whitehead or Hartshorne. Rabbi Harold Kushner’s popular 1981 book When Bad Things Happen to Good People, though not written with Whitehead or Hartshorne in mind, is in its essentials a process theodicy (Griffin, Evil 229). It takes nothing away from the efforts of Griffin and Whitney to say that if process theodicy is here to stay it is due in no small measure to the theoretical groundwork laid in Hartshorne’s metaphysics.

This is not to say that process theism’s doctrine of divine power brings questions of theodicy to an end. There is lively debate on the extent, if any to which process thought is an advance on more traditional ways of thinking about omnipotence; for example, see the recent exchange between David Griffin and William Hasker in this journal (29:194-236). Moreover, there are unexplored questions about the problem of evil and the neoclassical concept of omniscience. For instance, why isn’t divine knowledge of what is highly probable more readily apparent to persons whose suffering and anguish it would greatly alleviate? Is God unable or unwilling to impart such knowledge to the creatures? Suffice it to say that the problems of theodicy are not likely to go away, even though process theism introduces a genuinely novel and conceptually sophisticated voice into this ancient controversy.

Hartshorne was troubled by the question why traditional religion seems to do so much for so many people of all social classes while his "rationalized philosophical religion" seems to do so little (Darkness 279). The sociologist Rodney Stark makes some headway in answering the first part of this question: traditional religion, by invoking supernatural power, can promise eternal life, reunion with the departed, a perfected soul, and unending bliss, all of which have obvious appeal and none of which can be offered by merely secular competitors (Stark 169). On the other hand, the popularity of Kushner’s book, and the solace that it has given many who have undergone profound personal loss (like Kushner himself), demonstrates the existential appeal and usefulness of process thought when properly and simply expressed. In other words, Hartshorne may have underestimated how much appeal his form of religious belief might have.

Evolution, God, and Mind 16

Hartshorne had more than a passing acquaintance with science, and with biology and evolutionary theory in particular -- I have already mentioned his work in the psychology of sensation and on the aesthetics of bird song. From an early age he was exposed to evolutionary theory (Darkness 67, 118). His father, an Episcopal clergyman, had as a young man paid careful attention to the debate between Thomas Huxley and William Gladstone on the scientific reliability of Genesis. The elder Hartshorne concluded that Huxley, who argued that Genesis is contrary to non-evolutionary science, "had all the best of the argument" (Darkness 192). A letter to his son just a few months after the Scopes trial outlines his views that the Christian fundamentalists’ war against science would be no more successful than their war against drink (Darkness 187). Thus, Charles Hartshorne was never tempted to see a conflict between evolutionary theory and belief in God. Nor did he spend time refuting a view of the Bible that he, following the weight of biblical scholarship, considered to have been discredited long ago. In a letter to the editor of the Austin American Statement (Wednesday 24 May 1989) he summarized, "To deny the truth of some verses of the Bible is one thing; to deny the existence of God is a vastly different thing. Some of us cheerfully do the first without in the least doing the second."

Equally foreign to Hartshorne’s philosophy is the claim of Richard Dawkins that, "Darwin made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist" (Dawkins 6). Of course, this was not Darwin’s view (Brown; Corey 6-17). Darwin saw himself as giving an explanation, by no means complete, of the variety and distribution of species around the globe; he argued for the superiority of his explanation over its competitors, including those that attempted to account for these facts by appeal to a divine intelligence. Thus, the triumph of evolutionary theory (whether in its Darwinian or neo-Darwinian forms) entails the falsity of one form of theism, taken as an empirical hypothesis. We have seen that Hartshorne has excellent reasons to deny that there is only one form of theism or even that the forms that have been the most prominent are the most coherent; we have also seen why he denies that the existence of God is a hypothesis falsifiable by experience. It is consistent with Hartshornean principles to thank Darwin for toppling another idol. Thus, the God whose existence Dawkins feels intellectually fulfilled in denying is not the God in whose existence Hartshorne was ever tempted to believe.17

Alvin Plantinga, explaining the vehemence with which atheists like Dawkins use evolution as a weapon against theism, says that, "For the nontheist, evolution is the only game in town; it is an essential part of any reasonably complex nontheistic way of thinking . . ." (Plantinga 18-19). Had Plantinga said that evolution is an essential part of any reasonably complex contemporary way of thinking -- theistic or nontheistic -- he would have expressed Hartshorne’s view. For Hartshorne the question was never whether to accept evolution but only how to conceive of God’s relation to a world where evolution occurs. We have already hinted at part of Hartshorne’s answer. Divine intelligence is not needed as an empirical hypothesis to explain order within the universe or on a localized level. Evolution, as Darwin and Wallace originally conceived it, accounts for the emergence of certain kinds of order within the universe, whose existence and order are presupposed. The order of the universe is a metaphysical problem, not a scientific one. The logic of the matter does nor change with the neo-Darwinian synthesis. Evolution presupposes, without explaining, order on a cosmic scale. Hartshorne proposes his version of the design argument -- not as a scientific hypothesis but as a metaphysical one -- to account for cosmic order.

The obvious questions for Hartshorne are why cosmic order needs explaining and why, if it is to be explained, divine activity is the explanation. These questions take one to the core of process metaphysics. For Hartshorne (also Whitehead) the universe is composed of momentary centers of activity -- active singulars (Hartshorne) or actual entities (Whitehead) -- organically or internally related to their immediate predecessors by bonds of "feeling" or prehension and existing at varying levels of organizational and developmental complexity. In Whitehead’s pithy phrase: "The many become one, and are increased by one" (21). Hartshorne is even more succinct: "To be is to create" (Creative 1). The activity of dynamic singulars is in part a self-creativity and in part a partial creation of others. Each responds to (prehends) a world of dynamic singulars that have already come to be and each helps create the world to which subsequent dynamic singulars will respond. Order on a localized level, within the universe, is explained by the activity of localized dynamic singulars. All localized order, however, presupposes a cosmic order that none of the dynamic singulars, individually or in concert, creates. Therefore, order on a cosmic scale can only be explained by an ordering power whose influence is universal or cosmic in scope.

Consistent with his metaphysic of dynamic singulars internally related to each other, Hartshorne conceives the cosmic ordering power as internally related to everything over which its power holds sway -- that is to say everything in the universe. Hence, the cosmic ordering power is an all-inclusive ordering power, taking within itself every creative transformation or change that occurs within the universe. The best analogy for such a being, Hartshorne maintains, is a cosmic mind that remembers -- and hence values -- all that occurs. A cosmic ordering power that is aware of all that occurs has two of the traditional attributes of God: world-creativity and omniscience. Other elements of Hartshorne’s cumulative argument for God’s existence provide reasons for thinking that the cosmic ordering power has other attributes traditionally ascribed to God (see Viney, 1985).

Implicit in Hartshorne’s account of God’s relation to the universe of dynamic singulars is that cosmic order is not deterministic. If localized individuals are to retain their character as partly self-creative, then God’s creativity is not the complete explanation of their activity (which is their "being"). God’s role as cosmic ordering power, according to Hartshorne, is to define the limits within which localized creative activity occurs. In the paper on Darwin, published here, he praises Darwin’s famous contemporary Charles Kingsley, an Anglican clergyman, for hitting upon the positive religious significance of evolution (see also Omnipotence 73, 80). Kingsley in his 1863 book for children, The Water-Babies, put these words into the mouth of Mother Carey, a personification of nature: "[A]nyone can make things, if they will take time and trouble enough; but it is not everyone who, like me, can make things make themselves" (231). Something like this idea was expressed before and after Kingsley, by three Frenchmen. In the 1850s, Jules Lequyer spoke of "God, who created me creator of myself" (Euvres 70), and again, in a more cryptic fashion: "God is TO MAKE MAKE" (Euvres 397). In 1920 Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the French priest-paleontologist wrote (so far as I know, without knowledge of either Lequyer or Kingsley), "Properly speaking, God does not make. He makes things make themselves" (28). Henri Bergson, in 1932, maintained that the philosopher who takes the experience of the mystics seriously must come to the conclusion that God undertakes to "create creators" (255). Whitehead spoke of an actual entity as a "self-creating creature" and of God as "the actual entity from which each temporal concrescence receives that initial aim from which its self-causation starts" (85, 244). This is the tradition of thinking about God with which Hartshorne identified himself. He reports, in "God as Composer-Director," that before meeting Whitehead, he wrote a paper at Harvard titled "The Self its own Maker."

Process metaphysics, whether it is Hartshorne’s or Whitehead’s, repudiates both physicalism (or materialism) and dualism. The shared doctrine of physicalism and dualism is that some metaphysically basic parts of the universe -- let us use the neutral term "monads" -- are wholly insentient, wholly lacking in mind-like qualities. Hartshorne denies this. Every monad is a psychophysical whole -- in this philosophy. no res vera is entirely devoid of a psychic (i.e., mind-like) quality. Hartshorne called this view psychicalism.18 In earlier writings he used the word panpsychism to express this idea, but he came to believe that this term too easily lends itself to confusing his theory with simple animism that attributes to every real thing -- chairs or rocks, for instance -- feeling or consciousness. Hartshorne reasons that, "Feeling can be everywhere even though many things do not feel, somewhat as vibration can be everywhere even though chairs do not vibrate (only their micro-constituents do)" (Zero 134). The criterion by which Hartshorne distinguishes what does and does not have feeling is, "what acts as one feels as one." A plant may seem to meet this criterion, but Hartshorne argues that it is the cells of the plant that are most active. As he says in "God as Composer-Director": "Even a tree’s growth is shorthand for the self-multiplication of its cells. Animals with central nervous systems are the only many-celled individuals we perceive that act integrally and even they do not do so in deep sleep." With Leibniz, Hartshorne maintains that some organisms are governed by a "dominant entelechy" that serves as a center of perception and activity (Monadology # 70); other organisms, and all inorganic wholes (e.g. chemical compounds and minerals), have insufficient organizational complexity to act or feel "as one.

Hartshorne tenaciously defended psychicalism throughout his career, even as he realized that his was the minority position, as it remains to this day. But when did majorities ever intimidate Hartshorne, especially when he saw evidence of genius on his side? As he says in the paper on Troland: "I regard this as an elite minority and am not abashed by the majority on this point. For I fail to find careful reasoning on the majority side and there is much careful reasoning on my side, from Leibniz to Troland, Whitehead, Wright, and some others." One may accuse Hartshorne of boasting, but there is no gainsaying that recent discussions in the philosophy of mind often ignore the very figures that Hartshorne holds to have developed the most intelligible form of the doctrine; in short, panpsychism is discussed but psychicalism is not (e.g. Nagel 181-95; Chalmers 293-99; McGinn 95-101). Griffin is a refreshing exception to the rule (Unsnarling 92-98).

In the final analysis Hartshorne uses an organic model to express God’s relation to the world. He appropriates and updates Plato’s World-Soul analogy.19 For Hartshorne, God is related to the universe in a manner that is similar to the way that a person is related to the cells of his or her body. Hartshorne insists that, "A body is, in the human case, no merely single thing, but a vast society of society of perhaps two hundred thousand kinds of cells. The mind-body relation is then emphatically a one-many relation, not a one-one relation" ("Postscript" 317). Our own feelings cannot be entirely separated from the feelings of the cells: "Hurt my cells and you hurt me" ("Postscript" 317). In a somewhat similar fashion, God is affected by what affects us. One difference between God and all non-divine individuals is that God knows each "cell" of the divine body in a perfectly distinct fashion whereas others experience their cells en masse, much as one sees the green of the grass but not each blade. This vagueness in the perceptions of our own bodies is the reason, according to Hartshorne, that the mind-body relationship is often mistaken as a relationship between two fundamentally different substances. Hartshorne also argues that the divine body unlike a merely localized body has no external environment. All of the "parts" of God are internal to the divine body. The experiences of the creatures, and whatever values they have, become immortalized in the memory of God. Yet, no creature can surpass God since each element of the divine body has a beginning and an end, but God is without beginning or end. Thus, Hartshorne refers to God as the "self-surpassing surpasser of all" (Divine Relativity 20).

The idea of divine embodiment is not entirely foreign to traditional ways of thinking. Paul is reported to have quoted the Stoic poets, "In him we live, move, and have our being" (Acts 17:28) and Christians speak of being members of the body of Christ. Defenses of the idea that the universe is God’s body occur both with (McFague) and without (Jantzen) knowledge of Hartshorne’s ideas. However, those who follow Hartshorne in much of his critique of classical theism often part ways with him on the World-Soul analogy. There is a widespread belief that it should be possible for God to exist without a universe. In the paper published here, "God as Composer-Director," Hartshorne attempts to address this concern (cf. Viney, "Varieties" 214-30). His arguments are considerable, but there is no question that this aspect of Hartshorne’s neoclassical theism has not gained many adherents.

Conclusion

Schubert Ogden maintains that the theistic metaphysics of Whitehead and Hartshorne is one of "the most significant intellectual achievements of the twentieth century . . . which in its scope and depth easily rivals the so-called philosophia perennis" (Reality 56). It is certainly a product of creative metaphysical thinking of the first order and it is a counter-example to the claim that progress in metaphysics is impossible. Some choose to understand the progress in terms of nearness to the truth. I make only a more modest claim. The progress that Hartshorne’s thinking represents is the progress of expanding one’s thinking about what is theologically thinkable. More generally. what Hartshorne accomplished, even when others do not agree with his form of theism, is to hold the prism of the human intellect up to the divine light, the better to display the full spectrum of responsible thinking about God.

The editors of Process Studies wish to thank Dr. Emily Hartshorne Schwartz for her generous support in the publication of the works printed here. Her invitation to me in June 2001 to help prepare her father’s philosophical papers to be shipped to the Center for Process Studies in Claremont made it possible for me to examine the variations in the manuscripts, the better to make balanced editorial decisions. It was an honor to be her guest in Austin, Texas and it is an honor to be guest editor for this special focus issue of Process Studies and thereby contribute in some measure to Hartshorne’s legacy.

 

Notes

1. I am indebted to Grier Jefferis, longtime friend and nonacademic poet-philosopher, for commenting on an earlier version of this paper that helped me see the need for important revisions.

2. Hartshorne’s first publication was in 1916 and a couple of his works appeared in 2000, the year of his death. The bibliography in the Library of Living Philosophers volume stops in 1991 and lists 482 philosophical articles and reviews (Hahn 735-64). The revised and updated bibliography published here consolidates under single entries the articles and reviews that were published in more than one place. For this reason, the new list seems shorter than its predecessor; however, it contains 51 new items.

3. Aspects of Hartshorne’s thought not dealt with here include: the revision of Peirce’s categories; the analysis of experience into personal and impersonal memory; the theory of beauty (as a mean between the double extremes of order-disorder and complexity-simplicity); the primacy of asymmetrical relations in logic and ontology; the impossibility of negative facts; the defense of indeterminism; the analysis of causation as sets of necessary conditions for the occurrence of an effect; the pragmatic theory of eternal truths; the critique of enlightened self-interest; arguments against pacifism; the objective nature of dreams.

4. Hartshorne says that he never intended to become a Peirce scholar. Yet, his articles, not counting book reviews, on Peirce could fill a small volume, similar to his book of essays on Whitehead. There are eleven Peirce articles listed in the bibliography published here: see items 5, 66, 70, 149, 188, 244, 331, 390, 405, 438, and 466.

5. Of course, Whitehead was British, but his metaphysical works were written on the far side of the Atlantic. Moreover, it is Whitehead’s work with Bertrand Russell on the Principia Mathematica for which he is best known in Great Britain. Hartshorne says that philosophical cultural lag has always been marked in Britain ("Analysis" 112). The most egregious example recently is the handsomely illustrated Oxford history of "Western Philosophy" (Kenny) wherein the names of Peirce, William James, John Dewey Josiah Royce, G. H. Mead, and George Santayana do not appear. Whitehead comes in for brief notice as co-author of the Principia.

6. Jules Lequyer (1814-62) (also Lequier) might have remained unknown to English speaking readers without Hartshorne. He learned of Lequyer in Paris in 1948 when Jean Wahl pointed out to him the similarities in their thought. Thereafter, Lequyer’s name appeared frequently in his writings; Philosophers Speak of God provided a first glimpse of Lequyer’s prose in translation. Harvey Brimmer, Hartshorne’s student at Emory wrote the article on Lequyer for Edwards’ Encyclopedia of Philosophy and attached two lengthy appendices to his dissertation with substantial portions of Lequyer in English translation. My own translations of and writings about Lequyer had their origin in the reading of Hartshorne (Translation and Jules Lequyer’s Abel and Abel).

7. Hartshorne also applies the theory of temporal modality to the logic of future contingents. For the usual dichotomy of "will be" and "will not be" for future tense propositions, Hartshorne substitutes the trichotomy. "will be," "will not be," and "may or may not be" ("The Meaning"). George Shields demonstrates how, using standard notation for quantification theory Hartshorne’s intuitions can be fleshed out in terms of a rudimentary object-language whose non-logical vocabulary or ontology consists of future possibilities, and the occurrence of an event relative to some time ("Fate and Logic"). The result is a diagram similar to the familiar square of opposition, where "will be" and "will not be" correspond to contraries tall, none) and "may or may not be" corresponds to the conjunction of the subcontraries (some are, some are not). A theological implication of Hartshorne’s theory is that there can be no eternal knowledge of temporal events since there exists no eternal set of facts or propositions about such facts to be known. Rather, God knows the extent to which the future is open ("may or may not be") and the extent to which it is closed ("will or will not be") (see Shields and Viney).

8. In Hartshorne’s earlier discussions (Creative Synthesis 271-72 and "Metaphysical and Empirical" 183), the zeros were interpreted as nonexistence (cf. Viney, "The Varieties of Theism" 212-13). The price for this interpretation is that the table no longer represents the views of those who believe that God or the world are impossible or have no modal status. On the other hand, whether the zeros mean impossibility or lacking modal status, there are more options than are explicitly represented on the table. If the zeros mean impossibility then eight additional viewpoints are required to account for the ambiguity of C-alone or c-alone options. For example, C-alone is ambiguous between "the modality of God’s existence is contingent and God exists" and "the modality of God’s existence is contingent and God does not exist" -- the former describes the theism of John Hick whereas the latter describes the atheism of J. L. Mackie. If the zeros mean lacking modal status then it is arguable that any view with a zero, excepting O.o, is unacceptable in the sense that it makes an arbitrary distinction between modal terms as applied to God and the world. Yet, even accepting this principle, O.o is a name for four distinct options, where God and/or the world exist or fail to exist. For example, Roselin was a theist who apparently accepted O.o, for he was a nominalist; but Quine, an atheist, also accepted O.o, for he denied de re modality

9. Hartshorne gives a quasi-formal proof of this in The Divine Relativity (13-14). George W. Shields makes the formalism explicit ("God, Modality, and Incoherence").

10. Hartshorne’s earliest discussions of Thomism are m his reviews of books by Etienne Gilson and Jacques Maritain ("Review of Etienne" and "Reviews"). Philosopher’s Speak of God includes excerpts from and critical comments on Thomas’ Summa Theologica (119-133). Also of note is the Aquinas lecture (Aquinas to Whitehead) as well as his responses to William Alston (Cobb and Gamwell 98-102) and W. Norris Clarke (Sia 269-79).

11. Huston Smith, an advocate of the via negativa, does say that persons who achieve the realization that they are not finally real -- that God is what is finally real -- understand that, "in the last analysis God is not the kind of God who loves them, for at this level there is no ‘them’ to be loved" (Smith 52). In denying that love is an attribute of the Godhead, Smith places the emphasis on the final reality of the Godhead in comparison with the lesser reality of the individual self. As I interpret Smith, the Godhead includes within itself the truth of "God is love" while transcending that truth infinitely. For a lively exchange between the perspectives of process thought and the "primordial tradition" see Griffin and Smith (1989).

12. The only true essences or non-emergent universals, in Hartshorne’s view, are metaphysical -- ones that cannot fail of exemplification (see Creative chapter IV).

13. I leave Hartshorne’s non-inclusive language intact. In later years, beginning with Omnipotence and Other Theological Mistakes, he strongly advocated inclusive language. For his views on this see especially the discussion of the paper published here, "God as Composer-Director, Enjoyer, and, in a Sense, Player of the Cosmic Drama."

14. Hartshorne was self-consciously building on Fritz Rothschild’s description of the God of Abraham Heschel as "the most moved mover" (Heschel 24).

15. John Sanders’ historical overview provides compelling evidence to support Franklin’s claim that evangelicals have traditionally leaned towards classical theism (Pinnock et al. 94f).

16. Griffin provides the most extensive discussion of the creation-evolution controversy from the standpoint of process theism, although he doesn’t treat of this aspect of Hartshorne’s thought (Religion and Scientific Naturalism 241-310).

17. Here, Ogden’s complaint against Antony Flew is apropos: "My sole concern is to do something about the widespread irresponsibility of arbitrarily excluding from consideration some of the most evidently pertinent contributions to the theistic discussion" ("God and Philosophy" 179).

18. Griffin’s preferred expression is panexperientialism. Hartshorne said that he had no objection to this term and saw advantages in it (Kane and Phillips 181).

19. For particularly lucid discussions of Plato’s analogy and Hartshorne’s use of it see Dombrowski (35-38, 65-75, 93-113).

 

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Whitehead’s “Theory” of Propositions

We must end with my first love -- Symbolic Logic. When in the distant future the subject has expanded, so as to examine patterns depending on connections other than those of space, number, and quantity -- when this expansion has occurred, I suggest that Symbolic Logic, that is to say, the symbolic examination of pattern with the use of real variables, will become the foundation of aesthetics. From that stage it will proceed to conquer ethics and theology (SP 140).

What audacity to claim that symbolic logic could conquer ethics and theology. and become the foundation of aesthetics! Shall we cry heretic! immoralist! or worse, positivist!? Why does symbolic logic hold such a privileged position for Whitehead? What is he inviting us to understand, what is he attempting to invoke by such a statement?

Symbolic logic, he tells us above, is the symbolic examination of "pattern with the use of real variables"; in other words, it is the systematic examination of "propositions." To grasp the import of this statement it will be necessary to pursue an interpretive inquiry into the nature of propositions in Whitehead’s thought. To do this I shall first discuss basic structural considerations of Whitehead’s theory of propositions and then proceed to address in more detail the salient features which I consider to be decisive for his understanding of propositions, namely, that a proposition has two subjects. On the basis of this insight, which opens a hermeneutical dimension to propositions, I shall, third, specify the role that propositions play in the process view of the world. In concluding I shall suggest in what sense the systematic examination of propositions can function foundationally for other domains of life.

I

In Science and the Modern World, in the chapter "Abstraction," Whitehead’s allusion to propositions is ensconced in a discussion of "eternal objects." i.e., pure potentialities, those transcendent entities traditionally known as "universals" (SMW 1560. By speaking of propositions in this context, Whitehead tacitly portrays propositions in a way befitting a characterization of eternal objects. As Ford observes, in Principia Mathematica Whitehead understands the "subject" of the proposition as the "placeholder" giving determination to predicates, thus transforming propositions into complex eternal objects (EWM 174).

Now, likening propositions to eternal objects is not entirely misleading, given the peculiar ontological status of propositions in Whitehead’s metaphysical scheme. Since both propositions and eternal objects are potentialities for realization in the sphere of actuality, a proposition does exhibit a certain type of universal relevance akin to eternal objects. Moreover, an eternal object is absolutely general; there is no criterion to found the truth or falsity of an eternal object. Likewise, a proposition -- taken in itself -- is essentially neither true nor false according to Whitehead. Just as an eternal object, say, redness, gives no information about itself save when it ingresses in or is realized in the red shirt or the red book, so too, a proposition as such "tells no tale about itself’ (PR 256f/391-3). With these considerations it is possible to note the following characteristics which both eternal objects and propositions share:1) potentiality or "patience" for realization, 2) indeterminacy or abstraction from actualities, and 3) absence of truth-value.

Nevertheless, Whitehead is quite candid about the distinctive features of propositions. In "The Metaphysical Scheme of March 1927," Whitehead clarifies a proposition as an "intermediate universal" (MS 320). Of course, with the explication of propositions as intermediate universals, we can recognize Whitehead’ s insistence on describing propositions from the perspective of eternal objects, and to this extent his description remains incomplete. Put differently, the expression "intermediate universal" signals an approach to propositions from the "top down" and not from the "bottom up," that is, from the perspective of actual entities or actual occasions invested with indeterminacy.1 Nonetheless, such a qualification marks a pointed move towards a distinction between propositions and eternal objects.

A proposition differs from an eternal object insofar as the latter refers to actuality with abstract generality, and the former refers to actuality with incomplete abstraction from determinate actual entities. Whereas eternal objects abstract from all determinate actualities, even God, and are merely referent to any actual entity devoid of selection, propositions circumscribe actual entities and lose their absolute generality in the fusion of eternal objects with a set of actual entities. In a proposition the eternal object is restricted to ‘lust these" actual occasions. The proposition is the potentiality of the eternal object, as determinant of definiteness, in some determinate mode of restricted reference to a circumscribed set of actual occasions (PR 257/393, 261/398-9).

For Whitehead, then, a proposition is truly "intermediate," not merely with respect to eternal objects, but also with regard to actual entities. A proposition is not a pure essence; though it does not give information as to how it actually functions in particular instances (like an eternal object) it does gesture towards how it could function in concrete occasions. A proposition is not a particular; it transcends brute fact, just enough to grant it an air of "impartiality" (MS 320-1; PR 197/299-300). Compared to eternal objects a proposition shares in the concrete particularity of actual occasions, and compared to actual occasions, it participates in the abstract generality of eternal objects. In other words, a proposition is doubly intermediate by virtue of what Whitehead calls a "double elimination." On the one hand, the objectified sheer matter-of-factness of actual entities is lifted, leaving a sufficient quality of concrete givenness to allow the latter to function now as "indicators." On the other hand, the eternal object suffers the removal of its absolute generality of its reference to any actuality.

The proposition is a "new kind of entity" -- an oft-touted phrase echoed by Whitehead throughout his commentary on propositions. While the proposition presupposes both types of "primary" entities, actual entities and eternal objects, it is distinct in kind, and therefore enjoys a unique status.

Guided by a dynamic understanding of propositions, one that can account for a process view of the world, Whitehead abandons the traditional conception of propositions. His distinctive contribution to the theory of propositions, however, requires an analysis with more attention to detail. Let me proceed in the following section in two stages which correspond to the two subjects inherent in the proposition, namely, the "logical subject" and the "percipient" or "prehending subject." After such an analysis it will be possible to examine the unique ontological status of propositions for Whitehead.

II

A proposition is the possibility of an actual world including a set of actual entities in a type of relatedness involving the hypothetical realization of a definite set of eternal objects. Properly speaking, however, propositions do not contain "actual entities" or "eternal objects" per se. Rather, in the unity of the proposition, actual entities assume the form of ‘logical subjects" and eternal objects are transformed into the "predicative pattern." The proposition is the potentiality of an assigned predicative pattern finding realization in indicated logical subjects (PR 24/35, 186/283, 257f/393f, 261/398).

In a proposition, the "logical subjects" are not tied down to objectivity, given as already realized. As Whitehead contends, their role in actuality, their complete determinateness, is eliminated. In Kraus’ words, they are "stripped" of their own pattern; the objectification by which they were felt is negatively prehended (ME 91). The particular facts function no longer as "factors," but become "bare its," that is, function as logical subjects with a hypothetical relevance to a predicative pattern now potentially determinate of these logical subjects.

While the objectified facts are invested with a certain levity, no longer fully sedimented, the logical subjects as an indicative system, on the other hand, restrict the freedom of the proposition to apply to any actual entity in absolute generality. "Apart from the indication there is no proposition because there are no determinate particulars" (PR 194/295). The indicative character of logical subjects disciplines the scope of the predicative pattern; they enjoy the function as "food for possibility" and enable the proposition to refer to the actuality of the world, to existential particularity. The fact that a proposition is provided with an "element of sheer givenness," a foothold in the world, as it were, enables a proposition to be not merely an eternal object, a pure possibility, but a real possibility (See WAP 477f). And because the proposition is not given as a finished fact, but presented as a way it could be (the optative quality preserving the indeterminacy unique to eternal objects), a proposition is a real possibility.

The restrictive abstractness of the predicative pattern, and the abstract definiteness of the indicative logical subjects provide the necessary indeterminacy and determinacy for a proposition to be true or false. This quality can be seen as an advance towards concreteness not present in an eternal object. Yet a proposition regarded simply in terms of its logical subjects admits too much vagueness to have a de facto truth value. For this reason a proposition as such can go no further than its ability to be true or false: truth and falsity are "no business of a proposition"; the proposition tells no tale as to its ingression (PR 256f/391-3, 191/291).

The distinction between a proposition’s ability to be true or false and its actual truth-value is a significant tenet of Whitehead’s theory of propositions. In Adventures of Ideas, for example, Whitehead contends that a great deal of confusion has been generated in the discussion of propositions by conflating the psychological attitude with the proposition itself (AI 243f). hi other words, at issue here is the problem of reducing essential theoretical foundations of logic, and more fundamentally, ontology, to actual mental processes where the latter becomes the necessary and sufficient conditions for the former. It will be helpful to elucidate the significance of this important distinction by rooting it first in Frege’s approach to propositions.

In his seminal work, Über Sinn and Bedeutung, Frege distinguished between a level of sense (Sinn) and reference or significance (Bedeutung). And in a letter written to Edmund Husserl a year earlier in 1891, clarifying his position with respect to Husserl’s, Frege illustrated his new theory in the form of an explanatory diagram (WB 96).

Sentence Proper Name Concept-word



Sense of sentence Sense of proper Sense of concept-word

(Thought) name



Reference of Reference of Reference of

sentence proper name concept-word object

(Truth-value) (Object) (Concept) which falls under concept

According to Frege, the semantics of sense and reference is primarily a semantics of whole sentences and not of sentence parts.2 Every declarative sentence contains a proposition, and such a sentence contains a thought as its sense (FBH 46). For example, the strings "24 = 42" and "4 . 4 = 42" express different thoughts or propositions, just as the strings "The morning star is a planet with a shorter period of revolution than the Earth" (1) and "The evening star is a planet with a shorter period of revolution than the Earth" (2) express different thoughts (FBB 26). Moreover, both 24= 42 and 4 . 4 = 42 have the same reference just as both (I) and (2) have the same reference. Thus, because the reference of a sentence is a truth-value, and because a sentence either refers to the state of affairs in which it is true (the True) or the state of affairs in which it is false (the False), all true sentences will refer to the same thing, the True, while all false sentences will have the same extension, the False (NS 276).

This is not to say that every sentence has a reference for Frege. For example, the sentence "Odysseus was set ashore at Ithaca while sound asleep" has a thought, a sense, while it is doubtful, Frege writes, that it has a reference. Still, the thought remains the same whether the sentence has a reference or not. Even if the name "Odysseus" in the sentence just cited did designate a real person after all, and not a fictional character, this new fact would not alter the proposition of the sentence. The proposition as such is independent of its truth-value. Nonetheless, as Frege writes to Husserl, it is sufficient if poetic strings or works of art have a sense, but for scientific work, i.e., to be useful, we must not lack a reference. In fact, it is the striving for truth that drives us to advance from the sense to the reference (FBB 48; WB 96).

Like Frege, Whitehead asserts that the truth-value of the proposition is irreducible to the proposition "itself," or put differently, the proposition’s truth or falsity does not contribute to the intelligible aspect of the proposition. For this reason Whitehead writes that the proposition’s own truth or falsity is no business of the proposition; in itself it tells no tale about itself. In Frege’s terminology, the proposition can have a reference, but the sense is unique. distinguishable from the potential reference of the proposition; it still makes sense, i.e., it is still a proposition whether or not it is true or false. Like Frege, Whitehead cautions against the all too prevalent tendency of his time to confuse psychological attitudes with the proposition itself. The intrinsic togetherness of the indicated state of affairs as logical subject and the assigned predicative pattern in their potentiality for realization is phenomenologically distinct from the eventual truth or falsity of the proposition.

Having offered this clarification of the proposition in itself, as the patience for that certain predicative pattern applying in that peculiar way to indicated logical subjects, it is possible to proceed to the distinctive insight in Whitehead’s understanding of propositions. It is now, in fact, that one can begin to address more specifically the role propositions play in the creative advance of the world. A proposition is not simply that fusion or "contrast" of predicative patterns and logical subjects, for it does not "contain" only one subject, i.e., the logical subject. Rather, in the provocative words of "The Metaphysical Scheme of March 1927," a proposition "contains" two subjects, the logical subject and the "percipient subject" for whom the proposition is or is not a valid element in experience; a proposition is not only about its logical subject, but is for any one of its percipient subjects, and thus relevant for the future (MS 321, 322).

Expressed still differently, realizing the predicative pattern (P) of logical subjects (x) is precisely a matter of "taking" x as P. For this reason a concrete, contextual treatment of propositions for Whitehead in distinction to traditional approaches (e.g., Frege) can be undertaken only by a recourse to a theory of "prehensions." Whitehead’s disclosure of the percipient subject, or as I shall indicate below, the prehending subject, situates the theory of propositions squarely in the field of a metaphysics hermeneutically considered.

At this juncture, it would be helpful to clarify unavoidable ambiguities in the context of Whitehead’s treatment of propositions where this "second" subject is concerned.

The "percipient" subject is a general term Whitehead uses in the "Metaphysical Scheme" to denote "any one of a set of acts of experience" (MS 322). The corresponding expression in Process and Reality is similarly the wider term "prehending" subject (PR 258/395). In both cases, the percipient or prehending subject is meant to encompass those types of experiencing which have a sufficient degree of complexity to admit or not admit a proposition into feeling.

The fact that Whitehead is prompted to designate a more comprehensive concept in the discussion of propositions is instructive. For a unique tenet of his theory of propositions lies in the distinction between a judging and a nonjudging subject. That is, he is careful not to reduce the experience of a proposition to the judging activity simply -- the traditional presupposition in theories of propositions. True, in Part II, Chapter IX, of Process and Reality, Whitehead himself offers a hearty discussion of propositions in terms of judgments. Nonetheless, he is quite clear that the treatment of judgments must be understood only as one subdivision of propositional feelings since the prehending subject experiencing the proposition is not necessarily involved in judging the proposition (PR 258/395, 187/284).

Indeed, the realization of propositions occurs without more complex prehensions such as judgments, "synthetic feelings" which involve consciousness. Propositional feelings are not in the simplest case conscious feelings. He is even more explicit: judgment and consciousness are "very rare" phenomena in the realization of propositions (PR 184/281, 259/396, 263/402).

If, then, the more fundamental mode of prehending a proposition is not the judgment, what is Whitehead’s alternative? For Whitehead, the primary mode of prehending a proposition is "entertainment" (PR 188/287, 258/395). While the notion of entertainment can only be grasped adequately when the proposition is considered specifically as lure, let it suffice to note here that the term entertainment is especially well-suited for the primary mode of prehending propositions because the proposition functions primordially as suggestive, provocative, beautiful or even frightening, in short, as ‘entertaining’ for the prehending occasion, enticing the latter in a certain direction of creative emergence. Accordingly, propositions are given primarily as eliciting valuation from the entertaining subject and not for conscious evaluation unique to judgments, although the latter is a possibility too. This is, of course, not to say that consciousness or judgments should be denigrated. Rather, it is simply the case for Whitehead that consciousness entails more than the "entertainment of theory [i.e., a proposition]" (PR 188/286f, 263/402). Unfortunately though, maintains Whitehead, our understanding of propositions has been truncated by having considered them habitually and exclusively in terms of judgments.

When we analyze a proposition, Whitehead writes, it includes acts of experience among its components. As I have indicated, albeit briefly, the range of these acts of experience is expressed by the notions of a percipient or prehending subject, and where propositions are concerned those acts are particularly judging and entertaining. Although Whitehead does not expressly repeat the formulation tendered in the "Metaphysical Scheme" that a proposition "contains" two subjects, its sense and significance for understanding propositions in the process view of the world is maintained in his analysis of propositions in Process and Reality in the sense that a proposition is also given for a prehending subject. Rather than address his contribution to the understanding of propositions with respect to both the judging and entertaining subjects, let me proceed by focusing on the latter, for it is here that the originality of Whitehead’s theory of propositions can be seen more clearly and the unique ontological status of propositions comes into relief.

The logical subjects equip the proposition with indicative references enabling the proposition to be true or false. The logical subjects, however, are not capable of doing more than indicating how the proposition could be realized: if the logical subjects to which the predicative pattern refers could, in themselves, make the proposition "tell tales" as to its ingression, it would be to cast the world’s lot in advance, it would be to prescribe exhaustively creative unfolding and thus vitiate creativity. Instead, the logical subjects in a potential pattern are divested of all formal content, leaving only their bare rootedness, their bare actuality. As such, the proposition is simply too indeterminate for further disclosure; propositions require completion.

An abstract analysis of propositions, according to Whitehead, could rest content without reaching beyond its logical subjects. Taking propositions concretely, however, means having recourse not only to its logical subjects, but to the contextual conditions brought to bear with the prehending subject entertaining the proposition. To contend that prehending subjects are in a unique way integral to propositions concretely considered is not to assert that propositions are random, reducible to mental processes or have less integrity. On the contrary. It is to realize that the proposition regarded simply in terms of its logical subjects is vague in the sense of poly-valence and that to become what it is, the proposition requires valuation, i.e., an interpretive matrix.

According to the "ontological principle" which demands that every entity (e.g., a proposition) be somewhere (i.e., an actual entity or nexus thereof), a proposition has a "locus." That is, the ground to which propositions must refer is the actual world as objectified in the entertaining subject. Because the two subjects together constitute the locus of the proposition, the proposition constitutes that "display" of the environment which is inscribed in the entertainer, while the adumbration of the entertaining subject’s own features ale registered in the data which its environment provides.

If the proposition does not already contain the locus of the prehending subject and logical subject, the proposition cannot be entertained. "Thus no actual entity can feel a proposition, if its actual world does not include the logical subjects of that proposition" (PR 259/396; cf. 203/309, 260/397). Since every proposition "presupposes" actual entities which are its logical subjects, the presupposed or purported logical subjects may not be in the actual world of some prehending entity; in other words, because not all entertaining subjects will admit the proposition into its concrescence, such a proposition will refer to the hypothetical future beyond that concrescent occasion, and the proposition must "await" its logical subjects as it must "await" a subject admitting it as it is into feeling.

Existing as entertained in experience, propositions not only can be true or false, a capability afforded by their logical subjects, but are in fact true or false (AI 245; PR 11/16f, 258/394). As proposed for some unspecified subject initially, the proposition is rendered determinate by being entertained and thus actualized concretely in the context of the purpose, interest and historical situatedness of the subject experiencing the proposition. Accordingly, the second condition for the realization of a proposition goes beyond that peculiar commerce of logical subjects and predicative patterns, and concerns the determination of a truth-value: the entertaining subject. By virtue of the intimate role the entertaining subject plays in the proposition, a "proposition must be true or false" (PR 256/392, my emphasis).

Having oriented Whitehead’s theory of propositions in this section around the two subjects essential to the proposition, it is possible to specify the ontological status a proposition has in his system. To recapitulate: the two subjects embraced by the proposition, the logical subject in a potential predicative pattern and the prehending, e.g., entertaining subject; the two correlative conditions for the truth and falsity of propositions, the fact that they both "can" and "must" be true or false; the fact that a proposition is a "real possibility" for an "entertaining subject," gives to the proposition its fundamental trait: according to Whitehead, a proposition is a lure for feeling.3

III

It strikes the neophyte of Whitehead’s texts as incredibly odd to read that a proposition -- of all things! -- is a lure for feeling. Indeed, common parlance has acclimated us to propositions as declarative (usually true) statements of fact; if they are anything but this, they are useless. As something worthy of assiduous analytical attention, computation, and contemplation, propositions are hardly appealing, and least of all enticing.

One reason for our incredulous start at the mention of propositions as lures for feeling is based in our tacit and uncritical appropriation of propositions from logicians. Yet it is they, in Whitehead’s view, who have neglected the primary role in the creative process of the world by conflating judgments with propositions, equating propositions with linguistic entities, and restricting propositions to the mere data for a judging subject.

Propositions, however, are not judgments, for the former concern the actual self-realization of the subject directly and hence belong to the sphere of metaphysics. Judgments, on the other hand, raise the question concerning the intuitive perception of a real fact in the constitution of the judging subject and therefore belong to the sphere of epistemology. While a proposition entails math or falsity, a judgment which functions illocutionarily concerns correctness or incorrectness, belief, disbelief or suspended belief. Whereas the proposition is a lure for feeling, and as entertained is what is felt, the judgment is a critique of a lure for feeling, a reinforcement on the level of conscious reflection of what is felt (PR 189/288, 193/294).

Moreover, propositions are not reducible to linguistic entities because the verbal expression, as hopelessly ambiguous, can never exhaustively express a proposition. As Kraus cogently remarks, it is the ontological state of affairs that constitutes the proposition, not the verbal form (ME 191f; PR 192f/293f).

Finally, as indicated above, propositions are not primarily given for a judging subject. The existence of imaginative literature, e.g., Shakespeare’s Hamlet, claims Whitehead, should have cautioned logicians that their "narrow doctrine is absurd." "It is difficult to believe that all logicians as they read Hamlet’s speech, ‘To be or not to be . . .’ commence by judging . . . and keep up the task of judgment throughout the whole 35 lines." Certainly, he continues, "at some point judgment is eclipsed by aesthetic delight" -- revealing that propositions in their simplest and most fundamental form are entertaining and for entertainment (PR 184f/281).

William Hocking, in The Meaning of God in Human Experience, writes that every idea "attracts every other idea -- tempts it into some union or other for which it may or may not be fit" (MGHE 87). This sense of tempting, attracting, urging into a situation of conformity or nonconformity is recapitulated in Whitehead’s very characterization of a proposition. That is, a proposition is a notion, a "theory" of things, a suggestion or supposition about actualities. In this regard, a proposition is indeed "theoretical," but in the deeper understanding as a lure endeavoring to fix the subjective form which clothes the feeling of the proposition as a datum.

The proposition as lure for the prehending subject conditions creative action, creative emergence, affecting the modification of the subjective aim. The subjective aim, which as Ford clarifies it, is a proposition whose logical subjects indicate the past actual world the novel occasion is to unify, guides the feeling of the nascent subject, the source of which, for Whitehead, is God (DP 292n9). God offers as its subjective aim a vision of what that entity might become, disclosing relevant novel possibilities that would provide "ideal" opportunities for the concrescing subject with the maximum enjoyment of complexity and intensity. "Thus God, whose existence is founded in Value, is to be conceived as persuasive towards an ideal coordination" (SP 98). However, there is no blind compulsion to accept this lure; it is open to modification. Nevertheless, as lure it invites and entices the creation of feeling as a way of promoting realization and determining the proposition concretely.

Far from being lifeless, listless, existing in some pristine void of pure thought, propositions are primordially affective. They function as the religious vocation, the seduction for the enjoyment of aesthetic pleasure, the tantalizing tease, the pitch of the salesman, the marriage "proposal," the "come on," the "proposition" of the lover.

How does such an understanding of propositions as lures relate to their truth-value? In one respect, Whitehead’s theory of propositions demands a correspondence theory of truth (SMW 171-2). But even this statement requires important qualifications. Quite simply, a proposition is true when the logical subjects do in fact exemplify the predicative pattern, or differently stated, when a member of the proposition’s locus admits the proposition into feeling in such a way that the predicative pattern actually conforms to the indicative logical subjects. Alternately, when a nonconformal proposition is admitted into feeling, there has been an alternative potentiality of the predicative pattern fused with the logical subjects. The proposition is false.

But truth is not the telos of a proposition. A proposition is not admitted into the process of the subject because the subject admires math for its own sake as opposed to falsity, but because it would be a more beautiful, valuable, interesting way of integrating the actual world of the percipient according to the predicative pattern for its logical subjects. A proposition "seeks truth" not for truth in itself, but because a true proposition is more likely to contribute to the interest and creative advance of the world, and in this sense be "successful." Although Whitehead makes the necessary gestures toward true propositions and even truth itself, he is adamant in maintaining that the real import of a proposition in the process view of the world is that it be interesting, not true (AI 244; PR 224/343, 259/395f).

Since it is more important for a proposition to be interesting than true, the traditional regard for propositions as the matter for judgments and the bias towards truth (even the expression "truth-value" is prejudiced against false propositions) has nearly dealt a fatal blow to the understanding of propositions’ dynamic role in the universe. "The fact that propositions were first considered in connection with logic, and the moralistic preference for true propositions," Whitehead contends, "have obscured the role of propositions in the actual world . . . . The result is that false propositions have fared badly, thrown into the dust heap, neglected" (PR 259/395). Such a truncated view of propositions obfuscates their primary role as guiding creativity. False propositions introduce novelty; they are central to creative emergence; they are the ransom for "creative evolution."

IV

At the outset of this paper I cited a text by Whitehead in which he suggests that it is possible to lay the foundations for aesthetics, and to conquer ethics and theology through, what is in essence, a systematic examination of propositions. To understand this statement it is imperative that we tease propositions out of their purely logical domain. A proposition opens up the hermeneutical dimension of the world; with regard to its logical subject simply, it is still indeterminate, ambiguous, polyvalent. Since it is not confined to a univocal sense, it depends upon the prehending subject for completion, for determination. It is within this structure that we grasp propositions as lures for feeling: as lures they tempt the world into novel creative emergence. And it is in this way that propositions account for the process view of the world and the self-realization of the subject.

With this understanding of propositions, it is possible to interpret Whitehead’ provocative "proposition" with which I opened this paper. An examination of propositions would not replace a moral, religious, aesthetic or even political life, nor would it supplant moral, religious, aesthetic or political inquiries. On the contrary, an examination of propositions would "conquer" in the sense of clarify the fundamental structures of those ways of being. "Conquer," I suggest, means in this context simply that these other areas of life do not have recourse to themselves ultimately, but can only understand themselves through an appeal to propositions. Put differently, these other dimensions would be freed of their naivete and possible one-sidedness when rooted in a systematic examination of propositions.

In this light, it is not the case that we would abandon a moral, religious, aesthetic or political life for a life of doing logic, but rather, we would not leave the moral life to the ethicists, the religious life to the theologians and customary religious practices, and the political life to the politicians and political scientists, just as we surely would not leave propositions in the hands of the logicians.4

What does the proposition have to offer in this regard? First is the crucial insight that a proposition "contains" two subjects, in the sense I have attempted to explicate above. This simple but powerful recognition plunges all experiential activity into an interpretive matrix. Concretely, the logical, moral, religious, aesthetic or political life is entertained or examined from an historical context. Not only does the structure of the proposition place propositions linguistically considered in the sphere of hermeneutics, but it casts a hermeneutic shadow over all other areas of life. It provides us with the notion of a world that not only can be interpreted, but demands interpretation.

Second, the hermeneutical world view implies a process world view. Such a view requires adopting an ethical or political life that would not look to the past for its precedent, but to the future. In other words, we would understand the past as efficacious in the present, adumbrating a provisional rationality for the future. History, then, would become a task of interpreting the world relevant for action. That is, history would not be what is realized in fact, but what is realizable. We would reevaluate systems of justice and ethics that maintain past accomplished deeds as the yardstick for virtue, and interpret the virtuous life from the perspective of future creative emergence. In particular, false propositions would amine our sensitivity to novelty, difference such that a moral life would entail living, as Nietzsche remarked, "beyond good and evil."

Finally, an examination of propositions precisely as lures would require a reevaluation of interaction. Interaction with others would not be modeled on a leader/follower relation, or even primarily on a "helping" relation. Rather, propositions as lures call us to engage in religious, political and social interaction in terms of relations of exemplarity.

 

References

AI -- Alfred North Whitehead. Adventures of Ideas. New York: Free Press, 1967.

DP -- Lewis S. Ford, "Divine Persuasion and the Triumph of Good." Process Philosophy and Christian Thought. Ed. Delwin Brown et al. New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1971.

EWM -- Lewis S. Ford. The Emergence of Whitehead’s Metaphysics. Albany: SUNY Press, 1984.

FBB -- Gottlob Frege. Funktion, Begriff Bedeutung: Fünf Logische Studien. Ed Günther Patzig. Göttigen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1975.

LU -- Gottlob Frege. Logische Untersuchungen. Ed. Günther Patzig. Göttigen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1966.

ME -- Elizabeth M. Kraus. The Metaphysics of Experience: A Companion to Whitehead’s Process and Reality. New York: Fordham University Press, 1979.

MOHE -- William Ernest Hocking. The Meaning of God in Human Experience. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1912.

MS -- Alfred North Whitehead. "The Metaphysical Scheme of March 1927." Appendix 4 in EWM.

NS -- Gottlob Frege. Nachgelassene Schriften. Ed. Hermes et al. Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1952.

SMW -- Alfred North Whitehead. Science and the Modern World. New York: The Free Press, 1967.

SP -- Alfred North Whitehead. Science anti Philosophy. New York: Philosophical Library, 1974.

WAP -- Martin A. Greenman. "Whiteheadian Analysis of Propositions and Facts." Philosophy and Phenomenological Research XLII, 1953.

WB -- Gottlob Frege. Wissenschaftlicher Briefwechsel. Ed. Gottfried Gabriel et al. Hamburg: Felix Meiner, 1976.

 

Notes

1Briefly, actual entities are ‘the final real things’ of the world, ‘final facts.’ or again ‘drops of existence, complex and interdependent’ (PR IS, passim).

2Frege (not to mention Herder, Humboldt and Lotze) remained critical towards psychologistic and atomistic theories of knowledge by resisting trends that reduced essential theoretical foundations of logic to actual human thought processes. For the purposes of formulating a symbolic language of pure thought, the task he set himself in the Begriffsschrift, it would be misleading to assume that judgments were aggregates of previously given constituent concepts.

The constituents Frege distinguishes in logical analysis call for distinctions which do not depend on words composing the sentence, but on the logical consequences derivable from the judgment or thought. In Der Gedanke, Frege maintains that thoughts (i.e., propositions, judgments) are grasped as unanalyzed wholes, and only later analyzed -- not into subject and predicate -- but into argument and function, whose logical unity is prior to their component parts (FBB 29; LU 30-53). According to Frege, logic is not a psychologistic aggregate theory of concepts, but a theory of truth and truth-claims.

3Greenman is in one respect correct in asserting that a proposition, which is neither signified by a sentence nor realized in any actual world, has the ontological status of a "real possibility"; to be sure, here it is neither a true or false proposition. But this assertion concerns the logical subjects merely and neglects the unique way in which a proposition ‘contains’ two subjects. Thus, whether or not a proposition is actually realized, taken fully, a proposition has the ontological status of a ‘lure for feeling’ (cf. WAP 485).

4 Interestingly, Leonidas C. Bargeliotes has interpreted aesthetic experience from the perspective of propositions in his "Propositions as a Lure for Aesthetic Feeling," Diotima 9 (1981): 29-35.

Hartshorne on the Ultimate Issue in Metaphysics

Christian thinkers have long reacted with wonder as well as reverence to the thought of God embodied in a specific human form. Why would divinity choose to be specially manifested in just this instance of humanity rather than in others? A similar but less partisan question is the philosophical one asking why it is that the ultimate explanatory structure of reality, if such a structure exists and whether or not it is divine, should happen to be just as it is. Of course, however the Christian Incarnation might be thought to relate to time, this ‘structural incarnation’ need not be assumed to be temporal in the sense of resulting from some great decision, emanation or evolution in cosmic history; what must be recognized initially is simply that it is a perennial peculiarity that reality has or even must have the exact basic order that it does.

Yet the problem of explaining reality’s ultimate features may seem especially challenging to those who view all of reality, including God, in terms of process or becoming. In Colin Grant’s simple words, "insofar as God too is emerging, he cannot constitute the standard for emergence" (TS 584). Certain critics of Charles Hartshorne have questioned how this foremost living advocate of process philosophy could resolve what may be termed the ultimate issue in metaphysics. In this article, I shall offer an interpretation of Hartshorne’s position on the ultimate issue and defend that position against attacks from Robert Neville, David Pailin and Houston Craighead. I shall argue that his position requires belief in the ability of contingent divine states to necessitate indirectly a certain basic structure for reality. While Hartshorne has never expressed his approval of that belief, I will try to show that it is both credible in itself and compatible with certain basic doctrines of his, including his theory of causality, his Peircean view of temporal relations and his dismissal of ‘nothingness’ as an impossibility.

Let us begin by reformulating the ultimate issue in Hartshorne’s terms through a sketch of his metaphysics derived largely from his Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method. The core of Hartshorne’s system is his account of the categories, summarized in Chapter 6 of that work through a table of ‘metaphysical contraries’ (CSPM 100-101). For Hartshorne, a category is a concept or abstraction which, unlike empirical concepts such as "blue" or "dog," is necessarily illustrated in every portion of reality or at least in every fully definite unit of reality. Given his panpsychism or "psychicalism," Hartshorne holds that the ultimate units of reality are, in the broadest sense, feelings, or that feeling is a "cosmic variable" which can range from the most primitive, unconscious aesthetic reactions of subatomic particles to their environment to the most elaborate conscious experiences of God’s. It follows that each feeling in reality from the divine to the subatomic will have manifested a certain relativity, absoluteness concreteness, and so on. In theological language, these categories are "transcendentals" or attributes of God as well as of the subdivine, though only to God can they be applied in the most literal and eminent sense.

According to Hartshorne, the categories form pairs of logical opposites with the "r-term" or category involving relativity or dependence always including as a more abstract part of itself its corresponding "a-term" or category involving absoluteness or independence. Hence the concrete is said to contain the abstract, the contingent to contain the necessary, and so on. Hartshorne complains that almost all thinkers until recently have tended to treat r-terms as less important than or derivative from or, at best, of equal status with a-terms. In theology this has meant a tendency to attribute to God only a-terms or perhaps only a-terms in some mysterious "super-eminent" sense, while treating r-terms as more characteristic of the subdivine. For Hartshorne, the only way to achieve an intelligible contrast within each of these paired categories is to reverse the asymmetry prevalent in classical thought and give priority to the r-terms.

Theologically, this means treating God as dipolar or as having contingent states as well as an immutable categorial essence which each of those states contains. We could say in summary then that both a-terms and r-terms apply in eminent fashion to God’s essence (or to themselves), both apply in a different sort of eminent fashion to each of God’s feelings, and both apply in noneminent or surpassable fashion to each feeling of each subdivine individual.

Given this outline of Hartshorne’s system, we can restate our ultimate issue as follows -- if Hartshorne is correct in depicting these categories as a "cosmic double helix" or skeleton of every pulse of feeling in reality, then why does reality have just this categorial structure rather than some other one or none at all? In fact, since modal concepts are among the categories, we should ask why must reality have just this structure? Whence the necessity of this necessary essence? Whence even the possibility of this essence or of the concrete entities which manifest it? If these questions are indeed meaningful, how, if at all, can they be answered by a thinker such as Hartshorne who gives priority to such traditionally denigrated entities as contingent feelings?

I. An Interpretation of Hartshorne’s Position on the Ultimate Issue

To construct a response to the ultimate issue on Hartshorne’s grounds, it is first necessary to note the two sorts of causality and corresponding two sorts of explanation he recognizes for concrete entities. On the one hand, Hartshorne holds that the past affects the future in the sense that previous cases of becoming can influence later cases of becoming; previous feelings of one’s own, of God’s and of one’s body cells can be felt or inherited by one’s later feelings. This inheritance constitutes the process equivalent of "efficient causality" and yields one obvious sort of explanation recognized by Hartshorne. To explain in this traditional sense is to identify the prior causal factors which have contributed to an event. On the other hand, Hartshorne has given classic expression to the doctrine of self-causality, claiming that each new feeling in reality literally creates itself out of prior causal factors. Each instance of self-creating is said to be free to the extent that it has not been defined in advance by the now crystallized cases of freedom it inherits from the past.

The interweaving of these two modes of causality is represented in the upper pail of Figure One, where a human feeling, "X," is depicted as creating itself out of a mass of causal factors, marked by the diagonal rows of small case letters, and where X will serve in turn as a causal factor for subsequent feeling "Y." The self-creating element of this account constitutes the process equivalent of "final causality," with each feeling realizing a brief and at least minimally valuable purpose or aesthetic goal. According to Hartshorne, no amount of explanation in terms of efficient causality can account for the precise eventual character of a new creative synthesis; such historical explanations are valuable only in explaining the general outline and predictability of the future and the necessity of each new feeling having had its own specific causal

Figure One

Process As an Accumulating of Feelings or Creative Syntheses, Represented along with Charles Peirce’s Three Metaphysical Categones As Modes of Time

factors. But feelings do not occur in general, and the only way to account for the specifics of a feeling is in terms of a "self-explanation" or an admittedly somewhat barren reference to the fact that the feeling decided how to create itself in response to a mass of efficient causes.

How then should we interpret these two modes of causality and explanation to relate to the categories in Hartshorne’s thought? The remainder of this section will defend the interpretation that: 1) strictly speaking, the categories are neither causes nor effects in terms of either efficient or final causality as those modes of causality are manifested by the concrete; 2) nevertheless, there is a sense in which the categories always require a current divine final cause; 3) furthermore, there is a sense in which the categories always require all previous divine (and subdivine) efficient causes (and hence all previous final causes); 4) finally, there is a sense in which the categories always constitute what may be termed "quasi-efficient causes" and "quasi-efficient effects."

The first of these conclusions follows from the preceding discussion in a relatively unproblematic way. If the only possible efficient or final causes are fully concrete units of reality -- that is, feelings -- then the most abstract of abstractions -- that is, the categories -- cannot be causes in either sense. (Admittedly, Hartshorne sometimes speaks of this categorial structure in language suggestive of self-causality, describing it as "its own ground" (CSPM 252) or "self-grounded" (AD 296), but even in one of these cases he adds the remark "since it is uncaused" (CSPM 252), and he more typically refers to it as "uncreated," "ungenerated," or "unconditional" [MVG 26, 348; LP 208; AD 10, 80f, 295; 8: 89].) Likewise, if the only possible effects or resultant units of efficient or final causality are feelings, then categorial abstractions cannot be effects in either sense.

What makes conclusion one true is the categories’ supreme tolerance or nonexclusiveness of the concrete. It is true that the categories taken together are unique enough to distinguish just one individual, God, and Hartshorne has acknowledged that they can in that sense be described as "determinate" (PS 10:95). Yet, he continues to stress that no category has the "particularity" or detail which each feeling has in endless abundance and which excludes all other particularity.

Despite their supreme abstractness, the categories have their place in the causal order in the several respects affirmed by conclusions two through four. What conclusion two alludes to is Hartshorne’s quite explicit assertion that the categories always require some contingent divine final cause or other through which to be manifested:

God cannot be limited to His merely necessary being; He is the individual that could not fail to be actualized in some contingent particular form. This implies an immeasurable superiority; but what actualizes the superiority is God-now, or God-then, not just God at any time or as eternal, which is a mere abstraction. (LP 102) What "has" the divine perfection is not the divine individuality, in its fixed, eternally identical character; for that is not an instance, but is the divine perfection itself. It is the de facto states which "have" or instance perfection, rather than "being" it. (LP 66)

There are no decisions in particular that the necessary needs; yet there must be some decisions or other. (LLF)

While the creativity of each divine feeling is crucial then, it is also constrained by two major factors, one of which is the categories themselves. Each divine final cause must be deciding whether to be particular in these ways or those, but it cannot be deciding whether or not to manifest the categories. If categorial necessity has any clear meaning, then a divine final cause can no more choose to revise or terminate the categories than it could have chosen to create the categories in the manner of a concretion. Hartshorne seems to suggest this in his remark that creativity, the categories taken as a unit, could never have been created or fail to be expressed in what is created:

The abstract essence of creativity as such, well characterized by Whitehead, is not producible. It eternally is. It is determinate in its extremely abstract definiteness but is not determinate in the sense of having been de novo determined. God, the eternal abstractor, necessarily and always envisages It as an aspect of any and every concrete actuality. It has not been determined in the sense of having been made but is the identity of making as such. (PS 10:95)

Given his dipolar theism, Hartshorne must also be interpreted in this passage as affirming not that the "eternal abstractor" has an immutable vision of the categories in every actuality but that each divine feeling recognizes anew that it bears a categorial essence which will also have been borne by all other divine feelings.

Conclusion three refers to the second sort of constraint on each divine final cause, namely, the efficient causes to which that cause must respond aesthetically. For the categories to be illustrated with each new divine feeling, there must obviously be those efficient causes (or there must have been others in place of them) to provide the content for the new creative synthesis; that all preceding efficient causes, divine and subdivine, will always have been required to provide that content will be argued below.

The fourth conclusion is the one whose meaning, plausibility and compatibility with Hartshorne’s explicit position is the most difficult to make clear. In what sense could it be argued that Hartshorne’s categories resemble efficient causes and effects? Consider first what is here being termed "quasi-efficient causality."

As noted above, it is feelings which are, strictly speaking, the units of causality or final-causes-turned-efficient-causes. Yet each causal unit is a synthesis of countless factors, all of which were earlier causal units or abstractions from such units. Hence for any case of efficient causality, it seems equally fitting to attribute that causality either to the most recent causal unit pressuring a new feeling or to some pertinent aspects of earlier causal units and of the most recent one. In fact, if we try to explain our current dispositions of thought, action or emotion, we typically choose to describe only a series of relevant feeling-aspects from our past, not the series of whole feelings which contained them. For example, if asked to explain at length my current musical tastes, I would feel justified in mentioning only certain pertinent fragments of the units of experience, ranging from Bach to the Beatles, which have shaped those tastes. As long as it is acknowledged that the influence of those fragments on future feelings’ self-creation had to be conveyed through whole feelings, it seems quite appropriate to treat those fragments as efficient causes.

Now in the case of God, it appears that there are two sorts of causally significant feeling-aspect, the noncategorial and the categorial, and two sorts of resultant disposition, which can be termed "emergent habits" and (with apologies to ordinary language) "eternal habits," respectively. Those disposition types correspond to the two types of universal Hartshorne identifies -- those which emerge in cosmic history, such as "lover of Shakespeare," and those which are nonemergent, such as the categories (CSPM 58f). An emergent habit in God would consist largely in God’s aesthetic reaction to subdivine individuals but would be at least as amendable as the course of their history. For example, several centuries ago, God may indeed have become a "lover of Shakespeare" insofar as Shakespeare’s works were experienced by human beings; yet, it is also possible that God’s appreciation of Shakespeare’s artistry (though not of the feelings of Shakespeare or his audience) declined as new literary figures and forms appeared.

Eternal habits would differ from emergent ones above all by resulting from the totality of prior feeling-aspects of the pertinent sort rather than from merely some of that sort. Shakespeare’s plays have influenced God’s literary preferences for a mere four centuries, but the categories have influenced God’s general character from all eternity. As a result, it can be conjectured that while the pressure from God’s past literary preferences on God’s future ones is limited, the pressure from God’s past general character on God’s future one is irresistible. In other words, the cumulative forces of various divine feeling-aspects must differ in kind depending on the uniformity of those aspects up to now in cosmic history. Aspects which have been absolutely constant throughout time and space must be maximally abstract, merely "determinate" and invariable; all others must be to some extent concrete, "particular" and variable. Thus, whatever details they may actualize, all divine (and hence all subdivine) feelings must follow the most basic procedure of manifesting the categories.

It is through their inexorable momentum then that the categories can be said to be quasi-efficient causes. At the same time, the categories are similar to the effects of efficient causality in that each categorial manifestation has resulted from a certain pressure from the past, though in this case the pressure is directly from the most abstract aspects of prior feelings (as well as indirectly from the most concrete aspects noted in conclusion three).

This interpretation of the categories as quasi-efficient causes and effects may appear more plausible if we consider some of the obvious objections it may engender.

1) If the categories are intertwined with the concrete causal order in the manner defended here, doesn’t that imply the paradox that a new divine essence must be created with each new divine feeling? On the contrary, the essence of God is a single event-framework with an indefinitely great number of instances. As with a noncategorial habit, those instances do not involve the mere repetition of identical though numerical distinct entities but the actual inheritance of one entity from the past in the present. That single entity, distinguishable into the categories, has new instances by extending into the future actualities whose existence it necessitates.

2) Doesn’t this interpretation of Hartshorne make the categories dependent on divine decision, when Hartshorne, as Lewis Ford and David Griffin have noted, must view God’s eternal, necessary nature as "beyond all decision, even God’s" (HDW 47)? The problem with this objection is that ‘beyond all decision’ is doubly ambiguous. In the first place, that expression could refer to what transcends the ability of either any single decision (or limited number of decisions) or else all decisions up to the present in cosmic history. Ford, at least, clearly intends the former:

For Hartshorne every decision must be a temporal decision, and it makes no sense to suppose that any temporal decision, no matter how remotely past, could determine the metaphysical principles. Such a decision either initiates the temporal process, thereby contravening the everlastingness of creativity whereby every event grows out of an actual past, or it presupposes a past domain in which the metaphysical principles did not hold sway, contrary to their absolute universality. (WDH 68)

Ford is correct that Hartshorne cannot affirm a primordial decision without rendering inconsistent his notion of time, and his notion of possibility as well, since such a decision would presuppose the modal framework it would impose. But the theoretical options here are not exhausted by one divine decision (or some such decisions) and none, and if all divine decisions are involved in the status of the categories, then a unique sort of coherence in Hartshorne’s system can be acknowledged for the first time. Hartshorne has broken with classical thought by depicting the noncategorial aspects of God as supremely dependent on or sensitive to the noncategorial dimensions of all past feelings; in analogous fashion, my reading of Hartshorne breaks with classical thought by depicting the categorial aspects of God as supremely dependent on or "sensitive to" the categorial aspects of all past feelings. In fact this analogy is one of the central arguments for my interpretation. If the analogy is denied, what relevance does the cosmic history of causality, involving an infinity of decisions, have in Hartshorne’s (or anyone’s) system for the modal status of necessity? Absolutely none? Have we no theoretical option but sheer incoherence? On the contrary, just as Newton’s worldview provided the means for interweaving the two traditional realms of natural philosophy, terrestrial and celestial, Hartshorne’s worldview, as interpreted here, provides the means for interweaving the two traditional realms of metaphysics, contingent and necessary.

A second ambiguity in Griffin’s phrase is that "beyond" could mean outside the influence of either all modes of causality whatsoever or merely those modes of causality, final and efficient, which are fully concrete or "causal" in the conventional sense of the term. Only in the latter sense is it true that the categories are "beyond all decision," for it is indeed impossible for God ever to choose whether to sustain or revise what will always have been the parameters of possibility; as Hartshorne has noted, for God even to attempt or want to attempt to revise those parameters would imply some divine confusion incompatible with omniscience (LLF). Nevertheless, as argued above, it is plausible to think that those parameters owe their inevitability indirectly to divine decisions by having been fringes of those decisions which will always have had an irresistible momentum from an unbroken record of manifestations throughout cosmic history.

Hartshorne is right to deny that the categories, as common to all possibilities, have any genuine alternative (LLF). Yet that denial is as indecisive of the ultimate issue as Griffin’s ambiguous claim. It remains to be explained why there are such things as categories which are common to all possibilities and hence without alternative. My whole interpretation of Hartshorne is an attempt to provide an answer to that question. It seems to exhaust the theoretical options to say that such an answer must be achieved by reference to either: 1) the categories themselves; 2) the noncategorial aspects of events; 3) both categorial and non categorial aspects of events; 4) some alleged factor (e.g., a God, Platonic Forms, "nothing") other than the categorial aspects of events; or 5) by nothing (i.e., by no alleged factor at all, including "nothing"), so that the ultimate issue is meaningless or at least unanswerable in principle.

It is not clear to me at present which of these options Hartshorne would accept. Option 4 is clearly unavailable to him, since he correctly holds that reality includes only the categorial and noncategorial aspects of events. Option 2 can likewise be rejected, for reasons cited by Ford. Hartshorne may mean to suggest his acceptance of option 1 when referring to the categories as "interdependent" (LLF) or self-caused or of option 5 when referring to them as uncaused or requiring no particular decision. If the latter, it seems peculiar for Hartshorne to hold that some aspects of events (the noncategorial) require an explanation (in terms of final and efficient causality and categorial structuring), while others (the categories) require none; perhaps that conclusion is true, but such appeals to inexplicability should always be a last resort. If the former, then Hartshorne seems guilty of a rare instance of incoherence by leaving ontological necessity and causality in the contingent order as "mutually irrelevant, as whales to forest trees" (CSPM 41). If we are to abide by the Whiteheadian ideal of coherence, as Hartshorne so typically does, it seems that the categories’ status must be explained in part by some sort of reference to the noncategorial order, as option 3 suggests and as my interpretation of Hartshorne attempts to do. After all, if Hartshorne can accept conclusion 2 of my interpretation -- that any given manifestation of the categories depends on some decision or other, is it so far-fetched to conjecture that the perennial necessitation of the categories always depends indirectly in the manner described here on all decisions up to now in cosmic history?

3) Doesn’t this rendering of Hartshorne’s position fall headlong into paradoxes surrounding the doctrine of an actual infinity of past states? Whether that doctrine really involves ineradicable paradoxes, either in itself or for my reading of Hartshorne, is a question too complex to be treated in this context. It can only be noted that there have been no Machiavellian intentions here to commit all the needed intellectual atrocities at once through that doctrine, which Hartshorne accepts despite its "baffling" implications (CSPM 65). If the actual infinity doctrine were found to be among the "really fatal" (CSPM 88) paradoxes which Hartshorne warns of, then radical changes would of course need to be made in his position under my interpretation.

It should be noted, however, that that doctrine is a necessary but not sufficient condition for the truth of that position, as I read it. The claim that eternal habits are irresistible rests on the concept of completeness as much as on that of infinity. As Hartshorne notes, the difference between the divine and the subdivine lies primarily in God’s being whole or all-inclusive rather than fragmentary, not in God’s being infinite rather than finite (NTT 7). Eternal habits presumably and perhaps paradoxically do involve an infinity of past divine feelings and categorial feeling-aspects. Yet the inexorability of those habits derives from the total uniformity of those feeling-aspects throughout time and space, not from their infinity per se.

4) If eternal habits owe their necessity to their absolutely uniform manifestation in the past, does that imply the questionable empirical thesis that the power of an emergent habit in the future is always proportional to its uniformity of manifestation in the past under pertinent conditions? While the proportionality thesis might be true, it is probably of indeterminable truth value and is in any case not asserted or implied by the position defended here. All that is claimed here is that eternal habits have absolute power to manifest themselves, while emergent habits have less than absolute power, which might or might not be proportional to their past regularity of manifestation.

Experience may indeed suggest that entrenched habits are more difficult to break than ones only rarely manifested, for "old habits die hard." Yet there are reasons for doubting this conclusion or at least the full-blown proportionality thesis. If my interpretation of Hartshorne is true, the categories’ manifestations in the concrete are the sole instances in which the power of the past to express itself can be perfectly distinguished from and hence measured against the power of the present to create itself as it wishes. In such instances, the past has all the power involved and the present none. The power of the noncategorial past, on the other hand, seems impossible to distinguish with perfect clarity from the power of the present, though the two seem obviously able to vary in strength independently of each other.

For one thing, it is not clear from whose perspective the power of the noncategorial past should be measured. Human introspection is hardly capable of identifying all the efficient causes of a past feeling, let alone weighing the power of each relative to each other and to that feeling’s final causality; God in turn would seem to have no impartial information or standards by which to conduct such comparative weighings with perfect precision. Also, it is not clear when the past’s power should be measured, since an efficient cause provides no actualized pressure on the present until the present is already deciding how much to conform to that cause. Finally, it is unclear how salient an efficient cause must have been and how decisively a new feeling must conform to that cause in order for us to say in a precise and nonarbitrary way that an emergent habit has been manifested under "pertinent conditions."

When studying the strengths of noncategorial dispositions then, introspection, like natural and social science, seems bound to be measuring an amalgam of final and efficient causality, whose relative contributions to a given feeling are probably impossible in principle to distinguish, even for omniscience. Hence the proportionality thesis does not seem to have a determinable truth value.

This same point can be expressed with the aid of Hartshorne’ s comparison of the creative (i.e., final causal) and postcreative (i.e., efficient causal) aspects of a feeling to the elements of a ratio.

I sometimes think of an individual’s freedom as the fraction of which the numerator is the momentary experience of the individual, and the denominator is the past of the universe so far as effectively involved. The value of this fraction is small, but still not zero. (LP 180)

What I am maintaining is that an individual’s freedom during a new feeling, "X," could be more comprehensively expressed as 0/Cx + Fx/Ex, where Cx stands for the quasi-efficient causality of the categories on X, Fx for X’s final causality and Ex for the aggregate efficient causality pressuring X. During subsequent feeling "Y," the first numerator (representing "quasi-final causality") would remain at zero, since there would still be no freedom to circumvent the categories; however, there would be a new instance of final causality, "Fy," of unpredictable strength, a new expression of categorial momentum "Cy" equaling Cx plus the categorial portion of (Ex/Ex) and a new case of efficient causality "Ey," each strand of which would equal some fraction of (Ex + Ex/Ex). Each new case of creativity is limited absolutely by the most abstract of conditions, which are always increasing maximally in strength from their preceding manifestations, and limited partially by concrete conditions, which increase in strength erratically. The categorial limitations are again the sole feeling-aspects with respect to which all freedom is always zero. Hence it is only regarding them that God could know how much power the creative and postcreative aspects of a feeling would have, namely, none and all that there could have been at that point in cosmic history, respectively. 2

If this suffices to show the general plausibility of Hartshorne’s position, as I interpret it, let us consider next some recent attacks on that position.

II. A Defense of Hartshorne’s Position Against Some Recent Critics

One recent challenge to process philosophers has come from Robert Neville and has involved a vigorous critique of Hartshorne’s stance on the ultimate issue (CG 36-76; PS 11: 1-4). Neville identifies two basic problems in metaphysics which largely coincide with that issue. The "cosmological" problem is one of explaining the determinateness of cases of becoming, while the "ontological" problem is one of explaining the existence of such cases. Neville credits Whitehead with having distinguished the two problems and with having provided a plausible answer to the former in terms of his "ontological principle," which states that all instances of becoming derive their determinateness from the decisions of actual entities. Neville charges, however, that neither Whitehead nor Hartshorne has provided an adequate answer to the latter problem.

According to Neville, Whitehead treats the ontological problem by an appeal to the "Category of the Ultimate" or, more specifically, to the principle of creativity, whereby every plurality of actual entities is said to undergo creative unification into a new actual entity. Yet if that principle is meant in a normative sense, Neville finds it too indeterminate to explain why any specific creative unification of a plurality must occur. And if that principle is meant as an empirical generalization-which seems more likely -- then it appears merely to describe the situation to be explained. Whitehead’s fault then, according to Neville, lies in his adopting a "rationalist" answer on the ultimate issue or trying to achieve a final explanation in terms of first principles which are themselves determinate but not in need of explanation. Neville espouses an "empiricist" answer on the issue or an extension of the ontological principle to necessary existents, thereby requiring even the categories to be explained by reference to some sort of decision. In particular, he concludes that the categories, and hence indirectly all actual entities, have been created ex nihilo by an initially indeterminate source which "in the act of creation . . . constitutes itself as creator and as one relative to many" (CO 44).

Now Neville’s critique is peculiar in depicting Hartshorne as a more obvious "rationalist" than Whitehead (CO 46, 61f, 63f; PS 11: 4), though correctly recognizing Hartshorne’s Aristotelian position on universals (CO 57-76), which would hardly be expected to overemphasize the efficacy of abstract principles. As we shall see, however, Neville has reason to think that the categories cannot be fully "contained" in each concrete divine state, as Hartshorne suggests; hence Neville has persuaded himself that the only plausible way to interpret an Aristotelian of Hartshorne’s sort is as affirming the reality of a divine being or nature which transcends and necessitates the existence of divine states in time. However, this effort to save Hartshorne’s position seems in vain to Neville, for it terminates the explanation of the existence of reality in a transcendent individual who consists of or at least causes the illustration of the categories; for Neville, such an individual needs an explanation as much as any other instance of order, and the fact that no explanation can be found on Hartshorne’s grounds simply shows again the futility of "rationalism" on this issue.

But is there not a more favorable way to interpret Hartshorne’s position? Is it not more plausible to construe that position as diverging from Neville’s by being a different sort of "empiricism" on this issue rather than by being a form of "rationalism?" Does it not strengthen Hartshorne’s position to view it as an attempt to explain the categories indirectly in terms of all past divine decisions in time regarding the concrete rather than in terms of a nontemporal decision by a source so indeterminate that it renders all talk about itself meaningless (PS 10: 95-97)?3

Part of the reason for Neville’s less plausible interpretation is his commitment to a Platonic view of universals, which leads him to formulate the ultimate issue in a way that Hartshorne would presumably not accept. Whatever significance the distinction between "cosmological" and "ontological" problems may have had for Whitehead, it tempts Neville here into the traditional sin of counting the world twice in order to explain it once and for all. Contrasting these problems in the way that he does suggests that Neville would expect a mousetrap to kill both mice and the existence of mice. As I read Hartshorne, "ontological" questions are merely more abstract versions of "cosmological" ones, and all attempts to give an ultimate explanation of reality’s details in terms of the "formal possibility" (CG 60, 61) of concrete interactions is simply misguided.

Neville complains that Aristotelians aim to explain merely the appearance of universals in time, while

from the Platonists’ side, the interesting question is why certain forms of togetherness are coherent and others not, why certain forms have great harmony and others little or none. Unless this kind of question is addressed, the ontological structure of the world is taken for granted, not made intelligible. (CG 61)

Yet what does this passage indicate if not that Neville’s support for the ontological principle is really so weak that he must search beyond the decisions of actual entities for an explanation of the world’s determinateness and find that explanation in some vague "coherence" or "harmony" of "forms of togetherness?" And how curious it is that these sources of formal coherence, these eternal objects as "norms, indeterminate in themselves, but determinate as measures of how the particular components of a complexity ought to go together" (CG 58f), always seem to ordain just the exact sorts and degrees of togetherness which actual entities themselves appear to decide to realize.

This Platonic mode of explanation (if the mature Plato did sanction such an approach) seems as misguided as an attempt to explain the motions of football players by reference to the "coherence" or "formal possibility" of the interactions of their shadows. Neville’s claim that Platonism is supported by a religious intuition of the "irreducible dualism between Form and chaos" (CG 67) in reality is simply unconvincing; every metaphysics acknowledges the contrast between order and disorder, but there is no reason to think that that contrast -- as experienced -- is any more genuine or vivid for a Platonist than for an Aristotelian.

In any case, if Neville’s Platonism has led him to formulate the ultimate issue in a misguided manner, his dubious interpretation of Hartshorne stems also from an objection which he (CG 63-66) and David Pailin (PS 4: 194f) have raised independently against Hartshorne’s position. Both critics have found it paradoxical for God’s necessary existence to be treated as dependent on each contingent divine actualization. They grant that each divine state which happens to actualize may illustrate the categories but ask why any such state must actualize. What would prevent the series of divine states from ceasing to have new members, so that neither God nor anything else would have to manifest the categories?

An answer to this objection can be constructed on Hartshorne’ s grounds if it be recalled that the units of becoming are not wholly discrete or atomic or that continuous as well as discontinuous relations exist between the present and the nonpresent. Hartshorne sometimes explains this by reference to what Whitehead termed the fallacy of simple location (CAP 110, 187; CP 468; PS 10: 94; OP 301f), but he also illustrates the point through Charles Peirce’s theory of categories (CAP 74-91, 103-113; CP 455-474; RNR 215-224). This powerful, though notoriously difficult, theory can be stated briefly as follows. All relations in reality are reducible to either one-term, two-term or three-term relations, and these three irreducible sorts of relation are manifested as aspects of every experience. Specifically, monadic relations consist in quality of feeling or the relation of some feeling-tone to itself, dyadic relations consist in sense of reaction or the relation of some feeling to what it feels, and triadic relations consist in mediation, habit or, in cognitive individuals, thought or the relation of one feeling to another through a third.

Hartshorne has recently argued that Peirce’s categories should be distinguished not according to the number of terms they involve but according to the types of dependence which Peirce rightly identified with each (CAP 77-84, 106f; (ICE 324). What I take to be Hartshorne’s conclusions about the illustration of Peirce’s categories in experience are symbolized through our sample feeling ‘X’ and the lower half of Figure One. Proceeding chronologically, "Secondness" is the category whereby X owes its concrete content to specific prior feelings which had in turn been perfectly independent of X. Next, "Firstness" is evidenced by the fact that X has a certain feeling-quality which is externally related to whatever subsequent feelings occur. Finally, "Thirdness" is illustrated insofar as X is interpreting its dependence on specific feelings independent of it to some feelings or other yet to be actualized, such as

These Peircean categories ale important in the present context in showing that for my interpretation of Hartshorne, the temporal character of events is not merely discrete or atomic, not merely a case of Firstness, which would indeed be locked into the present. On the contrary, the Secondness and Thirdness of an event unite it in several crucial respects with the past and with the past and future, respectively (CAP 78-84; CSPM 61-68; WP 80f, 85f; CP 458-474; RNR 219-224) (though only Thirdness involves literal "continuity" or a continuum of possibilities with the nonpresent). Thanks to its Secondness, X is the subjective pole or spatiotemporal focal point of an event whose many objective poles had each been the focal point of an earlier event; of course, this is not to say that X "happened in the past" or that those objective poles are "happening now" in the sense that they once were but only that their having happened survives as an element of X-happening-now.

Likewise, the Thirdness of X insures that certain features from the past are being assimilated or converged in the present and thereby extended into the otherwise indefinite future. That is, I assume, why Hartshorne claims that individuals with consciousness always experience within present events a taste of futurity or possibility (CSPM 61f; WP 80f; RP 597f). Again, this is not to suggest that an event such as X "will occur" in the future in the same sense that it has occurred in the past but only that the present occurrence of X will remain an unalterable feature of at least some subsequent feelings. In that sense, the still unactualized future has literal existence or reality in the present.

Contrary then to what Neville and Pailin suggest, the efficacy of the present always penetrates into the future insofar as the present always defines the array of options from which the future must select in actualizing itself. Noncategorial cases of Thirdness, however, cannot necessitate the existence of the feelings whose character they will affect if those feelings do actualize; my present emergent habits offer no assurance that I or anyone else, including God, will exist tomorrow to be affected by them. Eternal habits, on the other hand, not only affect how the future will be but in so doing ordain irresistibly in the present that a future will be.

Hence there is no paradox in divine necessity and the other categories being contained in God’s contingent states, as long as the categories are understood to be uniquely capable of necessitating the existence as well as the basic character of future feelings. Each divine state, as it becomes, absorbs the full momentum of all previous divine states and transmits that momentum, increased by that state’s own quasi-efficient weight, to future divine and subdivine feelings. If contingent divine states were unable to explain categorial necessity, those who are fully committed to Whitehead’s ontological principle would find that explaining made no easier whatsoever by timeless abstractions transcending the contingent order.

In response to an earlier draft of this article, however, Neville has insisted that whatever advantage the present interpretation might provide to Hartshorne’s position, it would make eternal habits inconsistent with the genuine independence or creativity of feelings. According to Neville, if those habits were truly able to account for categorial necessity, all Firstness and Secondness would collapse into a divine eternal Thirdness, which, with no truly independent forthcoming actualities to grow through, would actually be a mere static, all-inclusive First. If such were the case, Hartshorne’s social conception of God would have to be forsaken for the more Whiteheadian view of God as a single actual entity.

On the other hand, argues Neville, if the creativity involved in divine and subdivine actualities is really their own, then the original Neville/Pailin objection recurs and the categories must be viewed as merely contingent cosmic customs, not necessitators of that creativity. If so, then divine "eternal" Thirdness might well cease to be manifested if actualities should ever cease to choose to create themselves.

This dilemma posed by Neville loses its sting if the appropriate distinctions are maintained between the creative and postcreative contributions to a new feeling. God’s eternal habits necessitate that some feelings or other will erupt into the world displaying a certain basic structure; God’s emergent habits provide in turn some contingent pressures on those feelings, but the creativity of those feelings is still required to complete their self-specification in response to divine and subdivine pressures. To appreciate the limited but crucial role of final causality, consider again the contrast between Firstness/Secondness and Thirdness. The former are those aspects of a feeling whereby its many objective poles in the past are synthesized by a single future-independent subjective pole in the present; the latter is that aspect of a feeling whereby its many objective poles may be synthesized by many subjective poles in addition to itself, either in the past or in the future. Clearly then it is neither necessary nor possible to interpret the former aspects of feelings as reducible to the latter under the present reading of Hartshorne; in fact, the converse error is closer to the truth, since the latter is simply the former’s active availability to the future. As such, the former could not depend on the latter -- that is, a concrescence could not define itself by the impact it will have had on the future -- unless Firstness were indeed an illusion.

This is especially true with eternal cases of Thirdness, for which all feelings throughout cosmic history will have had to serve as both subjective and then objective poles. If Firstness/Secondness were reducible to eternal Thirdness, as the first horn of Neville’s dilemma would have it, then every concrescence would face the impossible task of creating itself by reference to an indefinitely great number of feelings not yet actualized. While it is now true that those unactualized feelings will manifest the categories, it is not true that that "future" fact explains the categories’ manifestation in the present or in the future; rather, as argued above, it is the past in its ever-increasing entirety which will always have provided that explanation.

The second horn of Neville’s dilemma errs by depicting eternal Thirdness as wholly dependent on the instances of final causality which contain it and which happen to have emerged thus far in cosmic history. Process thinkers have made it clear that being contained as a noncategorial aspect of a feeling -- for example, as an object in a perception -- could not mean being wholly dependent; likewise with categorial aspects of feelings, the dependence, except for the debt of actualization itself, lies in the opposite direction. Hence Neville’s objection to the present reading of Hartshorne rests on a false dilemma.

If the preceding shows the plausibility of Hartshorne’s position, as I interpret it, with regard to the future, a further objection might still be raised with regard to the past. This further objection rests on the alleged possibility that there might have been nothing or that all conceivable entities might have been nonexistent. According to this objection, even if it were correct that the categories must be illustrated everlastingly because of contingent divine states, it has not shown that the categories must have been illustrated from all eternity because of those states. A critic could conjecture that reality’s structure and concreteness arose in some primordial instance of creation, though not from the purely indeterminate, which is Neville’s dubious thesis, but from absolutely nothing. Since I, like Hartshorne, have granted the difficulty of conceiving of an eternal past, should I not be especially receptive to the hypothesis that all of reality, including God and possibility itself, was the result of some pure creation ex nihilo, after which reality’s structure may have been sustained through contingent divine states? Many philosophers have accepted the assumption on which this objection rests -- that there might have been nothing or that the existence of a world is cause for amazement -- but it is Houston Craighead who has, in effect, aimed this line of argument against Hartshorne in a critique of the ontological argument (PS 1:9-24; RTE 33-37).

Craighead’s position rests on the two claims that the existence of nothing would be possible even if unknowable directly (PS 1:14-16; RTE 33-36) and, furthermore, that the existence of nothing is conceivable or knowable indirectly (PS 1:1 6f, 21-23). Concerning the former claim, Craighead proposes that even an omniscient being could be expected to know all positive possibilities only, not the sole non-positive but still meaningful possibility of absolute nothingness; in addition, he accuses Hartshorne of inconsistency for holding that while neither the future nor the existence of nothing is knowable, the former is possible while the latter is not. Concerning the conceivability of nothing, Craighead asserts that there is no logical or practical difficulty in our thinking of every contingent item of our experience becoming nonexistent and then not being replaced by anything else; in fact, he holds, the reason we can appreciate a magician’s trick or the steady-state theory of cosmology is that we can indeed conceive of a rabbit or of hydrogen atoms appearing out of absolutely nothing.

Now to Craighead’s first claim, Hartshorne has responded directly that it is contradictory to affirm the being of nonbeing or the possibility of no possibility; likewise, it is contradictory to imply with phrases such as "There is nothing" or ‘There might have been nothing" the spatiality or temporality of that with no location in space or time (CSPM 58, 245, 283; LP 149; WP 80; NTT 83f; DR 73; PS I: 25, 26; IDE 88-93). Furthermore, it seems incorrect to charge Hartshorne with inconsistency for denying that an unknowable "nothingness" could exist while affirming the possibility of the unknowable future. What Hartshorne states is that the future is possible now because it already has generic traits which are known by God, though God does not know now the details it will later have; "nothingness," however, would have neither generic nor specific traits to be known, so that even God could not know it to correspond to or be made true by anything real (PS 1:26). "Knowing about nothing" then would seem to be the same as "not knowing." And if discourse about a context devoid of objects is absurd, so must be discourse in a context devoid of subjects; the expression ‘There might have been nothing" could hardly be meaningful when no conceivable knower, not even God, could exist to confirm its truth (CSPM 57f; NTT 79, 83f; LP 87f).

But what of Craighead’s second claim that nothingness is conceivable or knowable indirectly through a process of mentally subtracting each of the items of our experience? Unfortunately, Hartshorne’s explicit response to Craighead on this point consists in the true but premature remark that all argument rests ultimately on intuition and that he trusts his own intuition more than his opponents’ (PS 1:26f). It seems that there are further basic arguments which Hartshorne could level against Craighead’s claim, charging, for example, that it is a fallacy of composition to assert that because we can conceive of the nonexistence of some things we can conceive of the nonexistence of all things.4 Craighead has in fact anticipated that fallacy charge as it applies in this issue (ECCC 122f). While granting that wholes may have properties which their parts lack, Craighead denies that existence can ever be such a property. A collection of dots might appear green as a whole though the individual dots were blue or yellow, yet that green whole could never have existence unless those individual dots had it also. Likewise, argues Craighead, the universe may have traits which its parts lack, but existence could not be among those traits.

What Craighead fails to consider is that a whole of contingent parts may exist necessarily if those parts, when passing out of existence, are bound to be replaced by other contingent parts. Why should it be assumed that every whole in reality, including reality itself, could have all its parts display their contingency in unison by ceasing to exist before replacements would appear for any of them? That assumption constitutes a second fallacy of composition, invalidating Craighead’s argument for the uniqueness of the trait of existence.

However, even if Craighead’s generalization involved no fallacy, it would be in error concerning that from which he claims to be generalizing. Craighead depicts us as encountering conceptual samples of nonbeing when we conceive of a familiar object, such as a tree, becoming nonexistent and then not being replaced by anything else (PS 1:21f). From these conceptual samples -- a little nothing here, a little nothing there -- he holds that we can conceive of an all-encompassing nothing which might come to be or might have been. Yet this seems to misrepresent our powers to conceptualize and the perceptual experiences on which they rest. For any perceptible object, there seem initially to be four possibilities: 1) remaining perceptible; 2) becoming imperceptible though still existent; 3) becoming nonexistent and being replaced by other things; 4) becoming nonexistent and not being replaced by other things. Despite its apparent innocence, number four could never be known to be more than a verbal possibility, for observation is in principle always of presences, not absences. As Hartshorne maintains, echoing Karl Popper (CSPM 160; AI) 63, 203), absences are always inferred from the observation of objects whose presence is incompatible with the presence of the absent objects. When a tree has been removed from a familiar landscape, what we perceive is always something else instead of the tree, such as a new building or grass or sky that had previously been blocked from our view. Even for God, however, it is impossible to perceive a parcel of absolute nonbeing surrounded by a remainder of existing objects. Hence we cannot perceive or conceive of a perceptible object becoming such a parcel.

Hartshorne expresses this point in a slightly different manner in what may be termed the "principle of perceptual limitation," an epistemological rule implicit in his comment that it is not always possible to distinguish cases in which perception fails to show the presence of some entity from cases in which perception shows the absence of that entity (CSPM 64, 79). Unless it can be independently known that the entity under consideration could be present only in a perceptible manner, we should concede that the question of the entity’s presence has been left open rather than decided negatively. For instance, if we have no way of knowing that any sort of feeling which might reside in the microscopic units of nature would have to be perceptible, then it is unjustified to conclude, as Craighead and common-sense seem to (PS 1:16f), that perception has decided the issue in the negative.

Likewise, it is unjustified to conclude that an object which is no longer perceptible has actualized number four above. In the first place, present imperceptibility does not even imply future imperceptibility, let alone imply or illustrate nonexistence without replacement. Experience provides many examples of an object becoming imperceptible and then returning to perceptibility due to further changes in the object or the percipient or both. Yet while such "encounters with nothing" are thereby shown to have been merely relative -- that is, cases of the second sort -- how in principle could any perception show that such encounters were absolute -- that is, cases of the fourth sort -- or establish that future perceptions would find nothing for as long as anyone tried to perceive it, that would not illustrate that cases of the fourth sort have a perceptual meaning distinct from that of cases of the second sort. All alleged perceptual evidence for absolute nonbeing is ipso facto evidence for merely relative nonbeing, but the latter sort of evidence never constitutes genuine evidence for absolute nonbeing. Secondly, as Hartshorne’s principle suggests, even perpetual imperceptibility does not imply nonexistence. Cases of numbers two and three can be distinguished from each other perceptually, but only when the "other things" in three are found to be perceptible. Finally, nonexistence does not imply non-replacement. The fourth sort of case would be a perceptually meaningful alternative to the third only if the "other things" were known independently to be inherently perceptible in the latter, yet all efforts to establish that knowledge-claim appear to be question-begging. By failing to recognize all this, Craighead has answered a crucial perceptual question with a negative conclusion which is unwarranted in principle.

More precisely, Craighead has violated a corollary of Hartshorne’s perceptual rule, which might be termed the "principle of conceptual limitation," by claiming to conceive of a pure absence or negation which could not have been derived from or suggested by any possible case of perception. Since Craighead can cite no perceived instance of absolute nonbeing, he cannot plausibly claim the ability to conceive of such an instance, for conceivability rests in certain basic respects on perceivability. Of course, it might be argued that in enjoying or discussing a magic act, for example, we are implicitly acknowledging the conceivability of a rabbit arising from absolute nonbeing even while not believing that such a transition has in fact taken place. Yet judging from my own abilities at least, the attempt to make that alleged acknowledgement explicit leads either to an obvious case of merely relative nonbeing, such as the black background of my imagination, or to an unfulfilled and apparently unfulfillable intention, such as that involved in the attempt to conceive of a round square. If nothingness can be "conceived" only as an impossibility which we try vainly to picture or mean, then that seems equivalent in the most important sense to saying that nothingness is inconceivable.

Craighead does allow for an alternative, existentialist origin of the conception of nothing, citing Sartre’s example of going to a cafe to meet Pierre, only to find the nonbeing of Pierre pervading the cafe (EN: 9ff). In such cases, Craighead holds, "one does not just perceive other objects, one actually perceives the nonbeing of Pierre" (LIG), showing that perception and consequent conception of nothingness are possible.

There are obvious questions that could be raised about this alleged perception of nonbeing: would those not seeking Pierre perceive it too or would it look any different to me if I had gone to another cafe by mistake and perceived it there amidst different objects? However, to those of us not well versed in the adventures of Continental nonbeing, Sartre’s account appears to be just a loose way of expressing the important truth that our desires determine the significance of the objects we encounter more than those objects determine our desires. If I were "desperately seeking Pierre" some day, his absence from the cafe might well occupy my attention much more than the objects there, but my perceptions would still be of those objects, not nonbeing. Even Sartre seems to acknowledge that fact, contrary to Craighead, and to treat nothingness as a mood experienced upon realizing that one’s desires conflict with one’s circumstances.

The problem of "nothing" is best treated by recognizing that negation, even in cases involving existence, consists in Platonic "othering." Even Craighead seems to accept William Reese’s claim that "denial in the predicate" involves replacement of a trait by its "other" or complement, so that "Socrates is not ill" means "Socrates is well" (PS 1:19). Yet Craighead rejects Reese’s attempt to interpret "denial in the subject" as a case of othering in terms of replacement of the world by a mental construct of some subject not present in the world. What Craighead fails to consider, perhaps because Reese himself had already dismissed it (NBNR 316), is the possibility that denial in the subject involves replacement of a subject by other subjects because existence is inherently competitive. To say that ‘Socrates does not exist’ is to imply that Socrates has been replaced, not by absolute nonbeing or a mere mental construct of Socrates, but by other human or subhuman organisms. If the existence of Socrates were to imply the nonexistence of other such subjects who would have lost out in the battle for existence, then clearly the nonexistence of Socrates implies that "Some subjects or other than Socrates exist," whether or not most people have actually intended that implication when denying Socrates’ existence.

By applying Platonic othering to denials in the subject, the claim that nothing is conceivable can be seen to be unnecessary as well as untenable and to be just as unsuccessful as Craighead’s other main claim at showing that reality could have arisen out of (or could pass into) nothing. Hence it leaves intact the thesis that the categories will have always been the necessary byproduct of a beginningless series of contingent divine states.

Hartshorne, of course, may still wish to be dissociated from part or all of the interpretation defended here. Nevertheless, I am convinced that it is true to his thought and constitutes a more clear, coherent and plausible "empiricist" answer to the ultimate issue than Neville and many others have provided.

 

References

AD -- Charles Hartshorne. Anselm’s Discovery: A Re-examination of the Ontological Proof of God’s Existence. La Salle: Open Court, 1965.

BN -- Jean-Paul Sartre. Being and Nothingness: An Essay in Phenomenological Ontology. Special Abridged Edition. Trans. Hazel E. Barnes. Secaucus, NJ: Citadel Press, 1956.

CAP -- Charles Hartshorne. Creativity in American Philosophy. Albany: SUNY Press, 1984.

CG -- Robert Neville. Creativity and God: A Challenge to Process Theology. New York: Seabury, 1980.

CP -- Charles Hartshorne. "Charles Peirce’s ‘One Contribution to Philosophy’ and His Most Serious Mistake." Studies in the Philosophy of Charles Sanders Peirce. Second Series. Ed. Edward G. Moore and Richard S. Robin. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1964.

CSPM -- Charles Hartshorne. Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method. La Salle: Open Court, 1970.

CTCE -- Charles Hartshorne. "Categories, Transcendentals, and Creative Experiencing." The Monist 66:3 (July, 1983): 319-335.

DR -- Charles Hartshorne. The Divine Relativity: A Social Conception of God. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1964.

ECCC -- Houston Craighead. "Edwards, Cox and Cosmological Composition." New Scholasticism 50:1 (Winter, 1976): 122-124.

HOW -- David R. Griffin. "Hartshorne’s Differences from Whitehead." Two Process Philosophers. Hartshorne’s Encounter with Whitehead. Ed. Lewis S. Ford. Tallahassee: American Academy of Religion, 1973.

IDE -- Charles Hartshorne. "Is the Denial of Existence Ever Contradictory?" Journal of Philosophy 63:4 (February 17, 1966): 85-93.

LJG -- Houston Craighead. Letter to J. Gilroy. April 14, 1986.

LLF -- Charles Hartshorne. Letter to L. Ford. October 19, 1985.

LP -- Charles Hartshorne. The Logic of Perfection. La Salle: Open Court, 1962.

MVG -- Charles Hartshorne. Man’s Vision of God and the Logic of Theism. Hamden: Archon Books, 1956.

NBNR -- William L. Reese. "Non-Being and Negative References." Process and Divinity: The Hartshorne Festschuft. Ed. William L. Reese and Eugene Freeman. La Salle: Open Court, 1964.

NTT -- Charles Hartshorne. A Natural Theology for Our Time. La Salle: Open Court, 1973.

OP -- Charles Hartshorne. "Ontological Primacy: A Reply to Buchler." Explorations in Whitehead’s Philosophy. Ed. Lewis S. Ford and George L. Kline New York: Fordham University Press, 1983.

RNR -- Charles Hartshorne. "The Relativity of Non-Relativity: Some Reflections on Firstness." Studies in the Philosophy of Charles Sanders Peirce. Ed. Philip P. Wiener and Frederic H. Young. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1952.

RP -- Charles Hartshorne. "Real Possibility." Journal of Philosophy 60:21 (October 10, 1963): 593-605.

RTE -- Houston Craighead. "Response to ‘Twelve Elements of My Philosophy’." Southwestern Journal of Philosophy 5:1 (Spring, 1974): 33-37.

TS -- Colin Grant. "The Theological Significance of Hartshorne’s Response to Positivism." Religious Studies 21: 573-588.

WDH -- Lewis S. Ford. "Whitehead’s Differences from Hartshorne." Two Process Philosophers: Hartshorne’s Encounter with Whitehead. Ed. Lewis S. Ford. Tallahassee: American Academy of Religion, 1973.

WP -- Charles Hartshorne. Whitehead’s Philosophy: Selected Essays, 1935-1970 Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1972.

 

Notes

1This paper was inspired by some critical comments of Michael J. Vater of Marquette University concerning my address on Hartshorne to the Marquette Philosophy Department in April, 1984. I am indebted also to Robert Neville, Houston Craighead, Lewis Ford and Charles Hartshorne for their very helpful and gracious comments on an earlier draft of the paper.

2If the ultimate moral assessment of subdivine moral agents requires a precise knowledge of those agents’ "freedom ratio," my conclusion suggests the paradox that such an assessment is impossible in principle due to an unavailability of the crucial information even to omniscience. Perhaps God can derive that information from a source other than our sloppy, self-interested human consciousness, such as our subconscious or neuronal conditions. Or perhaps precise knowledge of the effort expended is no more necessary for God’s assessment of the moral beauty of a drunkard’s refusal of a drink than precise knowledge of the circumference of the waterlily pads is necessary for our assessment of the artistic beauty of a Monet painting.

3 David Pailin (PS 4: 196f) also argues that Neville’s concept of God is theoretically and religiously vacuous. Neville (CG 65f) returns the charge against Pailin without appreciating its applicability to his own position.

4 See DR 73 where Hartshorne comes close to using this argument explicitly.

Nonhuman Experience: A Whiteheadian Analysis

In opposition to many Western epistemologies, Whitehead maintains that most experience is not conscious, that language, while crucial to thought, is not essential to it, and that feeling is the fundamental mode of disclosure of the world (PR 36/54). Whitehead also has a strongly empirical side, expressed in his insistence that a system of metaphysical ideas must be both "applicable" and "adequate" with regard to experience (PR 4-5/6-8). Accordingly, the aim of this paper is to make an application of Whitehead’s system to recent findings concerning nonhuman experience, in particular primate experience. I will argue that Whitehead’s system can easily accommodate the new findings. I will also attempt to demonstrate that in some respects animal consciousness is closer to human consciousness than Whitehead had reason to believe.

In the process of this application it will be necessary to attempt an account of self-consciousness consistent with Whitehead’s system. While Whitehead’s writings are rich in the systematic description of consciousness per se, he does not use the term "self-consciousness" systematically and mentions it only once in Process and Reality (107/164).1 In the attempt to obtain clarity in this regard I propose we consider self-consciousness to be a subjective form characterized by higher and more complex contrasts2 than exhibited by consciousness per se. In addition, I propose that we distinguish four types of self-consciousness: agent, public, introspective and pure. I will argue that three of these types of self-consciousness are clearly exhibited by language-using primates and quite probably by many other animals. Pure self-consciousness, however, seems to be an achievement rare even for human beings.

Understanding Nonhuman Beings. Whitehead’s distinction between two modes of perception is a highly useful one in evaluating past and present research designs concerned with animal experience. In the twentieth century, such research has relied almost exclusively on perception in the mode of presentational immediacy, that is, on quantified sense data devoid of a sense of past inheritance and thus devoid of meaning, emotion or purpose. It is apparent that perception in this mode does not disclose mental functioning. Whitehead’s system allows us to come to terms with this situation, since perception in the mode of causal efficacy involves the prehension of the outcome of both the mental and physical poles of the concretum3 as well as the subjective form, the "feel" of individual experience (insofar as it can be felt by a subsequent concrescence). Thus vague though powerful emotions and intuitions need no longer be ruled out as merely subjective and hence irrelevant, unscientific responses to the data.

It is of course true that careful observation requires the use of controls, the elimination of the possibility of social cuing, guarding against uncritical projection of the observer’s prejudices and presuppositions, etc. (MA 83-98). But increasingly researchers in this field are coming to agree that careful observation also requires an acknowledgement of the emotion, meaning and purpose in nonhuman experience. Attention to our intuitive and feelingful sense of our connections with the surrounding world, including other animals, is necessary in order to make correct interpretations.

Konrad Lorenz states:

Nobody can assess the mental qualities of a dog without having once possessed the love of one, and the same thing applies to many other intelligent socially living animals, such as ravens, jackdaws, large parrots, wild geese and monkeys. (MMD 162)

More recently, Menzel has observed that "we need very much to develop and refine methods which explicitly recognize and exploit, rather than attempt to eliminate, the observer’s prescientific, intuitive and global forms of judgment" (GDMP 303).

De Waal and colleagues have been testing human intuition concerning the behavior of chimps at the Arnheim Zoo since 1976. He states, "that the same testing principle was independently proposed by Menzel is illustrative of the new Zeitgeist" (DNCC 224). He adds that the scientists unwilling to attribute intentionality to animals are generally those with little direct experience with the behavior of nonhuman primates (DNCC 221). De Waal has found that short-term predictions of aggressive behavior based on the subjective evaluation of the personality, mood and frustrations of the chimps were much more reliable than estimations based on objective categorizations and explicit rules (that is, on quantitative and sensory-based criteria). De Waal points out that the basis of such intuitions is difficult to convey to others, due to the subtleties of primate interactions. The "look in the eye" of a primate can convey whether or not the action was intentional (DNCC 222)

Nonhuman Aesthetic and Moral Experience. Whitehead asserts that animals experience emotions, hopes and purposes, largely derived from bodily functions, and yet "tinged to a degree with conceptual functioning" (MT 37). "The animals enjoy structure: they can build nests and dams: they can follow the trail of scent through the forest" (MT 104). Observations unknown to Whitehead offer striking examples of the ability of some animals to enjoy sensuous contrasts and structures for their own sakes. Birds offer many of the best examples. Bowerbirds, a family of passerine birds which live in the rain forests of Australia and New Guinea, build bowers laid out so that the sun will not blind the bird while he dances in the presence of the female. The bowers have a display ground decorated with colored objects, chosen with great care as to their color and form (BB 42, 47-51). Some birds paint the walls of their bowers with fruit pulp, wet powdered charcoal, or a paste of chewed-up grass mixed with saliva. The satin bowerbird uses a wad of bark with which to apply the paint; the bower painting varies greatly among individual birds, regardless of their color or maturity (BR 37-9).

Bird song has given aesthetic pleasure to human beings for untold years. Does it also give aesthetic pleasure to birds? It appears so. Joan Hall-Craig states of blackbird songs that "the constructional basis appears to be identical to that which we find in our own music." There is rhythmic impulse and recoil in the organization of motifs and matching of tonal and temporal patterns to form symmetrical wholes (BV 375-6). To human ears, the aesthetic value of a bird song suffers when the bird must become practical and repel an intruder or attract a mate (ANHN 105-31). Charles Hartshorne has devoted much trained attention to bird song and argues that song requires "something like an aesthetic sense in the animal," though it may be more a matter of aesthetic feeling rather than aesthetic thought (BS 2, 12).

Whitehead attributes morality to the higher animals, in addition to their enjoyment of form. By this he seems to mean that animals exhibit a sense of foresight and self-transcendence. Along the same lines, Sapontzis argues that animals’ intentional and sincere, kind and courageous actions are moral actions, for they accord with accepted moral norms, and we do not require demonstrations of moral principle in everyday human moral practice (AAMB 51-2).

By understanding morality in this way, we can find abundant examples of moral actions. For example, mutual aid has been observed in 130 different species of birds (NT 167). Burton, an experienced ethologist, states that animals are capable of compassion, pity, sympathy, affection and grief, as well as true altruism (JLA 91). Rachels has described an experiment with rhesus monkeys in which not only did monkeys refrain from eating for many days in order not to shock another monkey, but the willingness to undergo such hunger was correlated with (1) whether or not the monkeys had been cagemates and (2) whether or not the hungry monkey had itself been in the situation of the monkey undergoing the shocks. Thus the altruistic behavior was directly related to the vividness of the empathy felt by the hungry monkey (DARL 215-6). We should also note the many instances of intra and inter-species helping behavior exhibited by dolphins (MW 166-68). Whitehead recognizes such animal goodness in a memorable passage:

Without doubt the higher animals entertain notions, hopes and fears. And yet they lack civilization by reason of the deficient generality of their mental functioning. Their love, their devotion, their beauty of performance, rightly claim our love and our tenderness in return. Civilization is more than all these; and in moral worth it can be less than all these. (MT 5, emphasis added)

Symbolic Reference and Ideally. Whitehead distinguishes human beings from animals on the basis of different capacities for the inhibition of symbolic reference. The inhibition of symbolic reference frees the conceptual element as exemplified in presentational immediacy from its exemplification in causal efficacy and thus frees the symbol to carry meanings other than those conveyed by the immediate past (ME 80; S 6, 83f).

Pigeons have been shown to be capable of a degree of inhibition of symbolic reference (SCTW 372). But more surprisingly, the displaced qualities of the "dance language" of honeybees involve some degree of inhibition of symbolic reference. This dance language was discovered by the brilliant experiments of Karl von Frisch in the 1930’s, but unfortunately Whitehead makes no reference to it. One astonishing discovery is that the waggle dance tells the direction to the food source in relation to the position of the sun (AT 179). The waggle dance communicates the direction, distance and desirability of a distant object. Lindauer has studied the waggle dances involved in swarming, in which the colony establishes itself in a new cavity. The process occurs over several days in which various workers visit and dance about the distance, direction, and desirability of several different cavities. Remarkably, when several individually marked bees were observed, a dancer sometimes changed from being a communicator to being a recipient. "She would stop dancing about her own discovery and follow dances by one of her more enthusiastic sisters. After following several such dances, she would visit the new cavity and begin dancing about it, with the appropriate change in vigor as well as her indication of distance and direction" (AT 183). Bees have also been observed to anticipate where food sources provided by experimenters will be when the source is moved varying distances according to a fixed mathematical formula (DHK 69f).

Many scientists have difficulty accepting these results because of their belief that the "wiring" of bees is too simple to allow such feats. Whitehead’s system is able to encompass the results, however: while the actual occasions constituting the central nervous system of bees are certainly of a lower degree of complexity than that of mammals, a bee brain contains thousands of interactive neurons, so that there is no a priori reason why the dominant occasion of the bee may not be capable of complex experiences in situations relevant to the bees’ survival. Exactly how many neurons are necessary for conscious thinking is unknown. Learning is now known to be well within the capacity of many annelids, mollusks, and anthropods (AT 173-76). It appears then that the idea of invertebrates as prewired machines is an inadequate interpretation of the data and that bees enjoy not only ‘conformal propositions’ but also ‘nonconformal propositions.’

The ability of bees to inhibit symbolic reference does not, however, establish a nonhuman ability to grasp pure symbols. Whitehead notes this limitation, for while he freely allows that animals are capable of morality, because morality emphasizes the "detailed occasion," he states that they are not religious, because religion requires a grasp of pure ideality. Animals exist more immediately than human beings: the mental pole of animal consciousness is more closely tied to the physical pole. Hence the failure of animal consciousness to grasp the universal nature of ideality or symbol, as in number, structure, goodness, or other abstract concepts such as beauty and God. Whitehead offers an example of a failure to grasp universal ideality in his observations of a mother squirrel, who was "vaguely disturbed" in the process of moving her young due to her inability to count (MT 106-7). This failure to grasp the universal nature of ideality also results in animals, however virtuous, not qualifying as full-fledged moral agents (AAMB 52) 4

Nonverbal Thought. The limitation on the grasp of ideality by animals by no means rules out their ability to think. According to Whitehead, thought is not originally verbal or even gestural,5 though the "excitation" which is a thought does require expression of some sort (MT 50). Propositions are nonlinguistic entities and are usually entertained not only without language but without consciousness. Propositions are quasi-physical, in that they are "lures for feeling" at the unconscious physical level, lures which always involve valuation.

In current animal research, nonverbal propositions are termed "natural concepts," understood observationally as a consistent response to a category of perceived objects or events. Natural concepts are based on perceptual abstraction and are abstract to varying degrees. Premack suggests that the degree of abstraction can be measured by "transfer," a similar response to conditions other than those in which the organism was trained (OAHC 424). Species differ in their capacity for abstraction and hence for transfer. For example, whereas human beings, primates and cetaceans prehend some differences between stimuli by means of the category of "different" or "same," other species, such as pigeons, treat different stimuli according to their magnitude of difference from the training range. In addition, species differ in the weight they assign to relational factors (such as "darker than") as opposed to absolute factors (the stimulus value). Thus pigeons can be trained to put like items together (match-to-sample), but because pigeons’ behavior is based mainly on absolute rather than relational factors, pigeons fail to transfer relations, e.g., relations of hue to relations of brightness. In contrast, human beings, primates, dolphins (and seals) grasp categories of abstract relations, or second order relations, and are therefore able to transfer relations. In Whiteheadian terms these abstract relations are understood as more or less pure conceptual feelings.

The success of pigeons with cases of absolute value may be relevant to Richard Herrnstein’s finding that pigeons possess natural concepts of person, wee, and bodies of water, in the sense of recognizing these objects in many different pictures even when the size or angle of the representation is changed or it is mixed with a bewildering variety of other objects (CVPC 550). Pigeons can remember for years that a particular picture is rewarded. It is evident from these experiments that pigeons prehend certain eternal objects such as "tree" not as pure potentials but as illustrated in a particular type of structured society. Quail demonstrate similar capacities in forming natural, polymorphous concepts of phonetic categories (JQPC 1196). Some of the physiological basis for such natural concepts may be indicated in the recent finding that cells in the temporal cortex of conscious sheep respond preferentially to faces (CTCCS 450), a finding consonant with Whitehead’s position of the continuity of conceptual experience across species.

The German ethologist Koehler has demonstrated that some animals possess some forms of "wordless thinking" with regard to quantity. The wordless counting involves two capacities, the first being "seeing numbers" or choosing the object with a certain number of points on it from among a group of objects with points differing in number, size, color and arrangement. The second capacity is "to act upon a number" by repeating an act a certain number of times. Koehler found that the upper limit of both capacities for pigeons was five points, for parakeets and jackdaws six, for ravens, Amazons, gray parrots, magpies and squirrels, seven. The animals were able to translate a heard number into a seen one: to select a seven-dotted dish from others upon hearing seven arhythmical whistles, drum beats, or flashes of light. Numbers were grasped as spatiotemporal gestalts, requiring some sort of internal representation (TWW 80-85).

The capacity of primates to grasp abstract relations has been extensively tested by Premack with non-language trained chimpanzees on two kinds of reasoning: "and" versus "or" and transitive or deductive inference. All of the chimpanzees tested by Premack passed the "and/or" tests (MA 131). Premack comments that in his experimental design the distinctions between "and" and "or" could be made on the basis of images.

In a transitive series, A-B-C, if there is a relation between A and B and between B and C, then that relation holds for A and C. Four year old children, if given help in remembering the pairs, have made judgments which indicate transitive inference (AML 695). These results indicate that transitive reasoning may be a fundamental type of human reasoning. But Premack’s experiments indicate that transitive inference is also a fundamental reasoning process in primates. His experiments allowed the transitive inference to be accomplished with images of the order of the stimuli in the series, though exactly how the animals reasoned is not understood. Evidence of other researchers shows an almost exact equivalence of experimental results in the use of transitive inference by squirrel monkeys and four year old children.

In commenting on the results of experiments with pigeons and primates, Premack notes that since sentences contain both relational and absolute classes, a species’ potential for sentences depends upon its having both, as chimps, but not pigeons, demonstrably do.6

Consciousness. Whitehead’ s position that nonhumans enjoy aesthetic experience, moral experience, and nonverbal thought is well substantiated by recent investigations. But are nonhumans conscious of doing so? For Whitehead, consciousness is the subjective form of an intellectual feeling -- that is, a feeling of the contrast between what is, a physical feeling, and what could be, a propositional feeling. In other words, to be conscious of something is to be explicitly aware that it could be other than it is, and so one is aware of what it is. Conscious feelings "already find at work ‘physical purposes’ more primitive than themselves" (PR 273/416).

Intellectual feelings include conscious perceptions and intuitive judgments. Both kinds of intellectual feelings involve the "affirmation-negation contrast." In conscious perception, the emphasis falls on what is the case. There is heightened emotional intensity because of the added contrast. Intuitive judgments emphasize what is not the case. The origin of an intuitive judgment involves two separate sets of concrete, one of which is finally eliminated. The emotional pattern of the feeling of the intuitive judgment reflects the original disconnection of the predicate from the logical subjects. It is the contrast between what is and what is not but might be. Intuitive judgments are the "triumph of consciousness"; explicit negation is the "peculiar characteristic of consciousness" (PR 274/418).

Because most animals do not use verbal language, it has been difficult to ascertain whether or not they employ intuitive judgments. Whitehead makes no assertions in this area, but his silence gives the impression that animals do not experience such judgments. However, as we shall see, recent work demonstrates that some animals deceive. Full-blown instances of deception involve not only intuitive judgments, but self-awareness and the attribution of intentionality to others. Hence we will defer a discussion of deception until after we have considered self-awareness.

Conscious Perception. Donald Griffin, a cognitive ethologist, adopts an approach similar to the emphasis on novelty found in Whitehead’s definition of consciousness and suggests that the best evidence of conscious thinking and feeling in animals is provided by examples of actions which are versatile and adaptable to changing circumstances, as well as actions which involve interactive steps in a sequence of appropriate behavior patterns (AT 35). Griffin also confirms Whitehead’s position that the level of organization of the immediate environment determines the complexity of experience of an actual occasion. He suggests that consciousness results from "patterns of activity involving thousands or millions of neurons" (AT 44).

Griffin’s overall thesis is that conscious thought is the most economical explanation of a wide range of animal behavior. Animals have to constantly adapt to a changing environment and thus "conscious mental imagery, explicit anticipation of likely outcomes and simple thoughts about them are likely to achieve better results than thoughtless reaction" (AT 41). In fact because of the smaller storage capacity of the central nervous systems of animals, proportionately more of animals’ actions may be conscious than those of human beings, though simpler in nature.

Griffin argues also that there is no conclusive reason why instinctive behavior cannot be conscious. We involuntarily sneeze and flinch, but we know what we are doing. If the same brain states could result from genetic instruction ("instinct") as from involuntary action, instinctive actions would likewise be conscious. In addition, overt responses may not always accompany conscious thought (AT 41). Griffin further challenges the assumption of a "human monopoly on conscious thought" by noting that current experiments indicate that animals produce "event related potentials" which resemble those produced by human beings. ERP’s are a type of weak electrical signal (EEG) measurable from the outer surface of the scalp. Griffin is particularly interested in the "P300" wave, which is positive and peaks at approximately 300 milliseconds after the stimulus onset. "This wave seems to reflect complex information processing within the brain, and possibly something like conscious thinking, although that is not clearly established" (AT 147). The P300 wave has been shown to occur when the subject is expecting a stimulus that does not occur, that is, Whitehead’ s intuitive judgment. Human experiments suggest that if the subject is not paying conscious attention to a discrimination process, the P300 is greatly reduced or undetectable (AT 151). The time interval of the P300 wave may roughly reflect the duration of the dominant conscious occasion.7

Language. Some of the results of research into language use by primates bear directly on Whitehead’s view of the gradual emergency of language and of its usefulness. Premack states that "the curious consequence of language training seems to be that it weakens the characteristic difference between person and animal. For it appears to convert an animal with a strong bias for responding to appearance into one that can respond on an abstract basis" (MA 125). Language training produces an "upgrading of the ape’s mind" (MA 150).

Several different approaches are currently being used to explore the linguistic abilities of primates, two of which will be briefly described.8 Premack’s work, because it involves a language board, has facilitated the understanding of the abilities of chimps to grasp abstractions and logical relations, whereas Patterson’s work uses Ameslan and has been especially fruitful in exploring creative language use.

Premack began working with Sarah in 1967. She began with a magneticized language board, with an invented language. The board acted as an external memory for Sarah, important since chimps have a poor short-term memory. The "words" were pieces of colored plastic of differing color and shape, and were associated with objects and people. Sarah was required to observe a particular order in writing two or more words. She was able to understand simple word order, as in "Mary give apple Sarah" (MA 19). Sarah sometimes named fruits she desired rather than the one presented, indicating her ability to employ displaced or imaginative symbols. Sarah mastered the concepts of "on," "same," "different," "name of," use of questions and "no" (MA 27, 30).

Premack found that Sarah perceived a piece of plastic as having attributes of the signified. "For Sarah, then a blue plastic triangle represents a red, round object with a stem." However, Sarah was not able to match relations (cases of sameness and cases of difference) before she learned her language. Also, while she was able to solve problems of comparative proportion which did not involve changes in appearance, animals without language training were unable to. Her success required that she remember what objects which were not present looked like (MA 33).

To demonstrate that Sarah’s achievements were not based on perception of look-alikes but on her grasp of abstract relations, Premack tested Sarah’s ability to reason analogically, involving relations of change in size, color, shape and marking, as well as actions such as cutting, opening and marking. Sarah indicated that she had an abstract idea of opening by judging the relation of can opener to can the same as that of key to lock (MA 109). In other words, she understood second-order relations, a relation between relations.

Sarah also passed the test of conservation of liquid and solid quantity, in which contents of a flask are poured into flasks of different shapes or a piece of clay is changed in shape (CLSQ 994). In these tests she made accurate same-different judgments based on inferential reasoning. Premack then taught children Sarah’s plastic words for "same" and "different" and found that children of five or six were able to pass the same test.9

Overall, Premack’s work provides evidence of the general correctness of Whitehead’s view of the relationship between human and animal mentality -- that there is both a vast similarity and crucial differences. For example, apes have extreme difficulty with photo-object matching and with seeing the relationship between a TV picture of a space and the real space, or between a dollhouse model of a room and the real room (MA 99-108). Premack speculates that chimps may be more reliant on boundaries of representations than are children, and that TV images, dollhouses and photos do not make the boundaries of their compound and rooms clear enough (MA 148). Also, Premack points out that the difference between chimp language and human language is the difference between the construction and the sentence. In a construction, there is a simple one-to-one correspondence between words and the real world.

But Premack’s findings concerning Sarah’s abilities to conserve quantity, to reason analogically and to attribute object qualities to abstract symbols, does establish that primates are capable of more abstraction than Whitehead believed to be the case. Additional evidence for such ability is provided by the Gorilla Language Research Project, a longitudinal study of the linguistic and behavioral development of lowland gorillas. The project has two subjects, Koko and Michael, who have learned to use American Sign Language (Ameslan), to understand spoken English, and to read printed words.10 Koko’s instruction, begun in 1973, is the longest ongoing language study of an ape, and the only one with continuous instruction by the same teacher.

As of 1986 Koko has used over 500 different signs appropriately in Ameslan and understood as many English words. She communicates in statements averaging 3 to 6 signs in length. Michael, who joined the project about ten years ago, has learned over 250 signs. Koko’s IQ as measured on the Stanford Binet Intelligence Test is 85, and on the Peabody Picture Vocabulary Test is 81.6. In general her weaknesses are time or "when" questions and numbers beyond five, though she is able to refer to past and future within a scope of several days (RP 6; EK 199-200).

Both gorillas have exhibited a number of creative uses of language. Koko and Michael sometimes link words to create compound expressions for new objects and actions. For example, "eye hat" for a mask, "finger bracelet" for a ring, "bottle match" for a cigarette lighter, and "lettuce hair" for parsley. These usages parallel the speech of 2 to 5 year old children (MG 941). The gorillas also communicate new meanings by making up their own entirely new signs. The intended meaning of some of the gestures has been obvious because of their iconic form, but the meaning of others has had to be worked out. For example, Koko invented a sign for a game which translated as "walk-up-my-back-with-your-fingers" (MG 942-3).

Koko and Michael modulate signs without training in a number of ways. They may signal changes in degree of emphasis, number, agent-action, agent-object, location, size possession or negative aspect. For example, the sign "bad" can be made to mean "very bad" by enlarging the signing space, increasing the speed and tension of the hand, and exaggerating facial expression (MG 938). Emphasis is communicated by signing with two hands, and negation by changing the location of the sign. Modulation is also used to convert a statement into a question, through eye contact and facial expression. Koko also swears appropriately, using modulated signs (IULC 548-9).

When asked, "What can you think of that’s hard?" Koko answered, "rock . . . work." (CK 5). Though this response might be based on simple word association, a formal test established that Koko performed better than many seven year old children when the children were tested with the same instructions concerning metaphoric associations. She was asked to assign various descriptive words to pairs of colors. The results revealed that she assigned "warm" to red and "cold" to blue, "hard" to brown, and "soft" to blue-gray, etc. (IULG 535).

Like metaphor, humor requires a capacity to depart from what is strictly correct, normal, or expected. Wit or humor has been expressed many times by Koko and Michael. Thus it may be their intelligence which has given gorillas the unfortunate reputation of stupidity or contrariness. For example, when asked to "smile" for the camera, Koko signed "sad frown" (MG 938). Koko’s laugh is a low chuckle, like a "suppressed, heaving human laugh" (EK 144). Her humor seems to be incongruity based, like that of small children. Chuckles were evoked, for instance, by a research assistant accidentally sitting down on a sandwich and by another playfully pretending to feed M & M’s to a toy alligator. In a striking example combining metaphor and humor, Koko made a joke about being a "sad elephant" because she was reduced to drinking water through a thick rubber straw as a solution to her constant nagging one morning for more drinks of juice (IULG 534).

The use of language for its own sake is another indication that Koko has internalized a symbolic system. Koko began to sign to herself when 16 months old, most frequently during solitary play, and continues to do so (IULG 537-41). Frequently while looking through books and magazines she will comment to herself about what she sees. In summary, Koko’s creative use of language in humor, formation of new words, modulation of signs, understanding of metaphor, and self-directed signing provide evidence of both conscious perception and intuitive judgments.

Yet despite the impressive work of Premack and Patterson, their studies of language production by primates do not yet provide unequivocal evidence of the extent of the capacity of primates to understand the grammatical features of sentences. Also, most of the studies of the linguistic abilities of apes emphasize language production (though the work with Koko does include a study of her ability to comprehend spoken English). The study of language comprehension has some advantages over that of production, in that it can be tested under rigid controls, lends itself to statistical evaluation, and does not depend upon manual or vocal proficiency (CSBD 132-3). For these reasons, Louis Herman’s work with bottlenosed dolphins has focussed exclusively on language comprehension, particularly comprehension of the imperative sentence.

Herman’s study was rigorously designed to eliminate the possibility of cuing as well as of over-interpretation of the results. Beginning in 1979, he worked with two dolphins, teaching one an artificial acoustic language and the other an artificial gestural language. Within each language a sentence was defined as a sequence of words that expressed a unique semantic proposition, ranging in length from two to five words. The meanings of some of the sentences depended upon word order as well as the particular words used. Both lexically and syntactically novel sentences were used.

The training procedures were designed to teach the dolphins that concepts were general, applicable to a wide range of situations as well as to completely novel situations. While there was initial difficulty in assigning signs to objects (but not to actions), both dolphins readily came to understand that signs stand for referents. Herman notes that a major qualitative shift occurred during the course of the project in the way both dolphins appeared to process the names of objects. Initially they tended to encode the identity of the object in terms of its location, which of course constantly changed due to water movement, analogously to a chimp sitting in a room in which objects floated randomly about in the air (CSBD 204). Over time the dolphins developed the ability to encode the search for objects in terms of object attributes rather than location. The study included temporal displacement of up to 30 seconds between the presentation of the sentence and the appearance of the objects. The number of incorrect responses increased only slightly with the 30 second displacement. In addition, both dolphins were able to report the absence of designated objects after a search by pressing a paddle designated "No."

In discussing his results, Herman states that they demonstrate the ability of dolphins to respond correctly to semantically reversible sentences, offering "the first substantial evidence of syntactic processing of a string of lexical items by animals" (CSBD 199)12 Evidence for such syntactic processing is found in the dolphins’ correct responses to sentences having modifiers to direct and/or indirect objects: reversal errors were extremely rare. (A reversal error would be taking a specified indirect object to the specified direct object.) In addition, the dolphin Akeakamai understood that the word "erase" cancelled all operations on prior words, and the dolphin Phoenix responded to two conjoint sentences in a manner indicating her understanding of the semantic content of the entire conjoint sentence. Both dolphins responded correctly to novel, syntactical forms on the first presentation. At times the dolphins rearranged the circumstances to make the requested response possible or unambiguous, and on several occasions they performed actions which Herman thought not possible, such as "water toss" (CSBD 200). In other studies, dolphins have succeeded in getting their trainers conditioned to reinforcing stimuli which the dolphins used to achieve their own goals, and in getting the trainers to clarify the experimental situation (BLPW 418).

In summary, Herman’s work demonstrates that dolphins understand the significance of word order in imperative sentences. In addition, preliminary tests on the question form indicate that it is understood by Akeakamai as referring to the presence or absence of named objects. In Whiteheadian terms, we may say that dolphins entertain intuitive judgments. 13

Self-Consciousness. I propose that we understand self-consciousness as the subjective form characterized by a vivid feeling of "mineness" as it unifies high-grade multiple contrasts. This vivid feeling of mineness emerges in the self-conscious occasion because of the high degree of integrating activity of its subject-superject. A self-conscious occasion unifies the contrasts found in the conscious occasion -- that is, of what is and what might be -- by means of a subjective form characterized by the feeling of mineness, so that the occasion is aware that it is prehending these contrasts. 14 The feeling of mineness is not a sense of ownership or possession of particular mental states, but the awareness of being the center of experiencing. The experience has the flavor characterizing the particular defining characteristic(s) of myself as a living person. So understood, self-consciousness takes four forms.

The first form of self-consciousness is described by Duvall and Wicklund in their book A Theory of Objective Self-Awareness. They use the term "subjective self-consciousness" to describe my awareness when I am acting as an agent. However, because of the notorious vagueness of the term "subjective," I prefer the term "agent self-consciousness." Agent self-consciousness is the feeling of being the source of forces directed outward, of being the source of perception and action; it also involves peripheral feedback from the body. In Whiteheadian terms agent self-consciousness could be accounted for by the self-enjoyment of the concrescence as an at least partly self-determined process. In occasions which experience agent self-consciousness this self-enjoyment supplies the vivid quality of mineness to this self-determination. My experience includes the multiple contrast involved in my prehension of my actual world and the awareness of my freedom as an efficacious dominant occasion to control the activities of lower occasions, particularly those making up my motor responses and their effect on the world, but also including psychological responses.

The second type of self-consciousness is termed by Duvall and Wicklund "objective self-consciousness" and is the state in which the causal agent self is taken as the object of consciousness. I believe "public self-consciousness" to be a more precise and widely recognized term. Public self-consciousness arises in a situation in which by being looked at, about to give a speech, in front of a TV camera, etc., I take the objective, public standpoint concerning myself. Public self-consciousness can be accounted for by the presiding concrescence vividly inheriting the past presiding concretum as part of a multiple contrast involving the prehensions of both the observable and imagined feelings of the dominant concreta constituting a portion of the psyche of other people. Such a prehension includes the awareness that others are prehending my actions according to their own subjective forms, which may involve feelings and ideals differing from or enhancing the multiple contrasts I am entertaining. I am then self-consciously aware of myself as an object in the world, vulnerable to the interpretations of others.

In addition to agent and public self-consciousness and the various degrees and mixtures of the two, we also experience "introspective" or "private" self-consciousness, though it is less common than the public or agent forms, since it involves a purely "inward" focus of attention. I attend to my perceiving, feeling, imaging, thinking and deciding, rather than to myself as acting in the world or as a social object. Introspective self-consciousness involves causal objectification by the dominant occasion of some of the unimaginably large number of concreta making up the human mind/brain, including what can be called the subordinate nonconscious living persons responsible for our habitual behavior, that is, sub-personalities (RHNB 148f). The subjective form of introspective self-consciousness is the vivid quality of mineness involved in the multiple contrast of the various aspects of the inherited dominant concreta as well as subordinate concreta.

There is also a fourth form of self-consciousness, here termed "pure," which has been given little attention in Western philosophic works. 15 In pure self-consciousness I am vividly aware that I am other than the specific contents of my experience. This awareness cannot be objectified or known in the usual sense, and various religious traditions present varying descriptions of it. Also, we have no evidence of pure self-consciousness in nonhuman beings, though both the neurological and behavior complexity of cetaceans and perhaps elephants require us to leave this question open. For these reasons, I will not attempt a Whiteheadian account of this state, if indeed such would be possible. 16

We are now ready to consider to what degree these forms of self-consciousness are found in nonhuman experience. First, it is reasonable to attribute agent self-consciousness to mammals and birds, on much the same basis as we postulate it in young prelinguistic children (AT 205). All are organisms acting on the environment, with the concomitant bodily feelings (TOSA 2-3).

As for public self-consciousness, the pioneering work in primates was begun in 1970 by Gordon Gallup, Jr. Gallup uses mirrors in order to give "self-awareness," as the "capacity to become the object of one’s own attention," an observable meaning (SAP 418).17 Gallup initially observed that, after mirror exposure for two or three days, chimps spontaneously eliminated social responses to the mirror (acting as if they were seeing other chimps) and began to use the mirror to respond to themselves. For example, they would groom parts of their body they had not seen before and make faces at the reflection. Gallup then anesthetized chimpanzees who were familiar with the mirror and painted portions of their faces with a nonirritating dye. When the mirror was introduced, the chimps attempted to touch the marked areas with the aid of the reflected image. Chimpanzees who had never seen themselves in mirrors, however, as well as chimps reared in isolation, exhibited no patterns of self-recognition. The fact that chimps reared in isolation seemed incapable of self-recognition indicates that it is social experience rather than language which is one basis of public self-consciousness (SRCM 118). Gallup’s findings have been replicated by others and extended to include orangutans. Monkeys have failed to exhibit self-recognition even after extended exposure to mirrors, though monkeys are able to respond appropriately to mirrored cues as they pertain to objects other than themselves (SRMRM 239-40). 18 Gallup observes that children show signs of self-recognition in mirrors at 18-24 months, whereas severely retarded or schizophrenic human beings sometimes seem totally incapable of learning to recognize themselves in mirrors (SAP 418.)19

Gallup as well as other investigators have been puzzled by the apparent inability of gorillas to exhibit self-awareness (SRCOG 175). However, Patterson finds abundant evidence for self-awareness in her work with gorillas, including recognition of a mirror image, use of self-referential terms, linguistic descriptions of feelings (both the gorillas’ own and those of others), and behavior indicating embarrassment. For example, both Koko and Michael evidence public self-consciousness when they use self-referents in their conversations, as when asked, "Who is a smart gorilla?" Koko appropriately answered, "Me" (MG 940; SRG 2-3). Koko has on occasion corrected her human companions when they have labeled her with unfamiliar terms. When someone commented, "She’s a goofball," Koko replied, "No gorilla." Patterson reports that Koko and Michael have both used a mirror to make self-directed grooming responses (MG 934). In fact it may be gorilla sensitivity (public self-consciousness) which has interfered with the attempts of other investigators to demonstrate gorilla self-awareness. For example, Koko seems embarrassed when her companions note that she is signing to herself, especially when the signing involves her dolls and animal toys. In one remarkable example she seemed to structure an imaginative social situation between two gorilla dolls, and signed "Good gorilla, good, good" when she was finished. She then noticed that a teacher was watching and left the dolls (IULG 540-1).

Koko exhibits introspective self-consciousness when she reports "Me feel fine" or that she feels sad (as when recovering from flu) or jealous (as when watching Michael and his teacher walk outside). When asked what is boring, she responded, "Think eye ear eye nose boring." Patterson comments, "Apparently Koko finds drill on overlearned things such as body parts boring" (IJLG 556). The gorillas have sometimes talked about their feelings concerning situations removed in time and space from the current one. Several months after her famous kitten "All-Ball" died, Koko was asked how she felt and replied, "Red red red bad sorry Koko-love good." (In other contexts Koko has seemed to associate "red" with anger.)

Koko exhibited introspective self-consciousness as well as Premack’s second-level intentionality when she saw Michael crying because he was not allowed out of his room, and on being asked how Michael felt, she responded, "Feel sorry out." In another example, after telling Koko she (the teacher) felt sad, the teacher asked Koko what she (the teacher) could do to feel better. Koko replied, "Close drapes" (Koko finds the closing of drapes over her windows to be comforting) and "Tug-of-war." Koko then came quietly up to the teacher and signed "sad"? (raising her eyebrows and leaning forward). The teacher responded, "I feel better now" and Koko smiled (CK 8).

Deception. The act of deception requires self-awareness, the ability to inhibit symbolic reference, and intentionality. Deception in both children and primates seems to develop gradually in a stage by stage sequence concomitant with sensorimotor intelligence and is inextricably related to intelligence (EODH 217). Children and apes both become capable of deception at around 18 months to two years of age.

In connection with her research with the orangutan Chantek, H. Lyn Miles offers a five-level schemata of deception. In her level four, "intentional deception," the animal misuses an action or sign in order to obtain a goal. The animal’s action, as well as his or her signs, indicate one intention, but when this intention is fulfilled, another is apparent. Cues which might reveal the deception are suppressed. Thus Chantek asked to see a monkey but instantly grabbed tools once inside the room which he knew to contain both monkey and tools (HCR 263).

Miles’ highest level of deception is "deception with false cues," in which the animal actively tries to thwart the other’s recognition of a falsehood by providing false messages which support the falsehood, whereas at level 4 the animal provides only true messages which support the falsehood (HCTL 264). Level 5 thus represents a clear instance of intuitive judgment as defined in Whitehead’s system. An example of level 5 is an incident in which Chantek hid an eraser but indicated with both behavior and signs that he had eaten the eraser (he opened his mouth for his trainer to see inside and signed "Food, eat").

There is an additional useful distinction to be made concerning deception: that between naive deception and what might be termed "deception-awareness."20 Intentional deception can occur naively, that is, the animal suppresses cues or provides false cues in order to manipulate the other’s behavior, but he or she may still take the other’s behavior at face value -- may still trust the other. A more complex level of deception (level 6?) occurs when the animal becomes aware that others may also deceive. This "deception-awareness" corresponds to Premack’s more general term "second level intentionality." When an animal experiences deception-awareness it mistrusts the other; it has lost its innocence and is initiated into the possibility that others may be untrustworthy. Yet only when the other is fully differentiated as a possible deceiver does relationship in its fullest sense emerge. Thus we can distinguish a level 7 of deception, in which I refrain from deceiving you because I empathize with how you will feel if I do deceive you, having experienced such deception myself. Level 7, perhaps describable as "altruism," represents the emergence of morally principled action.

How far along this hierarchy of deception are chimps21 able to travel? In his study of intentional deception in chimps, de Waal provides many examples of suppression of cues, exploitation of the ambiguity of cues, and use of false cues. Indeed, chimps are so skilled at deception that human observers often miss the whole action unless he or she witnessed the moment at which it began. Chimps are also skilled in combining feigned interest (false cues) with camouflaged responses (suppression of cues). They may turn their attention to something unimportant in order to hide embarrassment or disappointment. Thus, after a negative experience they may "carefully inspect details of their own body, similar to the way a tennis player concentrates on the string of his or her racket after a bad return" (FDD 23).

Signals can be corrected in order to suppress cues. For example, teeth-baring is a sign of fear and nervousness in chimps. One male, sitting with his back to his challenger, showed a grin upon hearing hooting sounds. He quickly used his fingers to push his lips back over his teeth again. The manipulation occurred three times before the grin ceased to appear. After that, the male turned around to bluff back at his rival. Female chimps often falsify cues using the "lure," in which false conciliatory overtures are given, to be followed by a swift attack. Feigning a mood is another form of chimp deception involving false cues. One old male observed by de Waal feigned being in a very good mood, tickling and rolling around with juveniles, despite all provocations (DNCC 232).

Koko has deceived by both using ambiguous cues and by providing false cues. For example, when caught in the act of trying to break a window screen with a chopstick she had stolen from the silverware drawer, she placed the chopstick in her mouth as though she was smoking it and signed "Smoke mouth." Koko has deceived Michael with false signing (TUP 10). She has been also able to answer some why questions. When asked, twenty minutes after the event, why she had bitten a companion who violated her rules of ball play, she responded "Him ball bad." She was also asked three days after biting Patterson, "Why bite?" "Because mad." Patterson: "Why mad?" Koko: "Don’t know" (IULO 544-5).

Up to this point we have noted evidence of intentional deception. Can we go further and find experimental evidence of deception-awareness or second-level intentionality in primates, or even of level 7, altruism?22 Here Premack’s work is suggestive, though as Chevalier-Skolnikoff points out, his use of juvenile chimps may explain the limited nature of his results (ODHN 214)23 Only one of his four animals both avoided a hostile trainer’s directions and deliberately misdirected the hostile trainer, while continuing to correctly inform and to accept information from the helpful trainer (IC 357). Not surprisingly, Premack found that the suppression of cues always preceded the production of false cues. The chimps did surprise Premack by beginning to point during the experiment, since pointing is not natural to the chimpanzee. However, none of Premack’s chimps have transferred the point to nonexperimental situations (IC 358).

In a series of carefully designed and ingenious experiments involving videotapes of problem situations with possible solutions, Premack has directly explored the chimp’s capacity for second-level intentionality (MA 57-67). In these experiments Sarah consistently identified the correct solution to a videotaped sequence of events illustrating a problem situation, whereas about half a group of normal 31/2 year old children responded not to the problem but to sensory aspects of the event. In another experiment Sarah consistently chose good solutions to problems for the actor she liked and bad solutions to the problems for the actor she disliked. Exactly what capacities are required for such performance is not understood, but they would seem to include second-level intentionality of a simple sort.

Sarah seemed to reach her limits at "third-level intentionality," that is, the level of attributing attributions to others. She was unable to attribute to X the capacity of attributing intentions to Y. Third-level intentionality is necessary for a full-fledged moral life, though nonhuman beings do exhibit aspects of morality, such as virtuous actions.

We have seen that research in nonhuman experience corroborates Whitehead’s epistemological scheme in which perception takes the two forms of causal efficacy and presentational immediacy, propositions and concepts are primarily nonlinguistic, feeling is the dominant mode of world- and self-disclosure, and animals experience both morally and aesthetically. It is also apparent that the recent evidence for self-consciousness in primates and cetaceans, based on their capacity for language use and deception, requires us to acknowledge that nonhuman capacities are somewhat closer to human capacities than Whitehead asserted. Overall, Whitehead’s theory does indeed enable us to escape anthropocentric dogmas. He helps us to realize that, properly understood, animals are not mere instruments for human use, but are companions in our evolutionary adventure.

 

References

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GDMP -- E. W. Menzel, Jr. "General Discussion of the Methodological Problems Involved in the Study of Social Interaction." Social Interaction Analysis. Ed. M. Lamb, S. Suomi and G. Stephenson. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1979.

HCTL -- H. Lyn Miles. "How Can I Tell a Lie? Apes, Language, and the Problem of Deception." In D, 245-266.

IC – Guy Woodruff and David Premack. "Intentional Communication in the Chimpanzee: The Development of Deception." Cognition 7(1979): 333-362.

IDBR -- Nubio Negrao and Werner R. Schmidek. "Individual Differences in the Behavior of Rats (Rattus norvegicus)." Journal of Comparative Psychology 101:2 (1987): 107-111.

IULG -- Francine Patterson. "Innovative Uses of Language by a Gorilla: A Case Study." Children’s Language. Vol. 2. Ed. Keith Nelson. New York: Gardner, 1980.

JLA -- Maurice Burton. Just Like an Animal. New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1978.

JQPC -- Keith R. Kluender, Randy L. Diehl, and Peter R. Killeen. "Japanese Quail Can Learn Phonetic Categories." Science 237(4 Sept. 1987): 1195-1197.

LIAM -- David Premack. "Language and Intelligence in Ape and Man." American Scientist 62 (1976): 674-683.

MA -- David Premack and Ann James Premack. The Mind of an Ape. New York and London: Norton, 1983.

ME -- Elizabeth M. Krause. The Metaphysics of Experience. New York: Fordham University Press, 1979.

MG -- Francine Patterson. "The Mind of the Gorilla: Conversation and Conservation." Primates: The Road to Self-Sustaining Populations. Ed. K. Benirschke. New York: Springer-Verlag, 1986.

MMD -- Konrad Lorenz. Man Meets Dog. Trans. Marjorie Wilson. London: Penguin Books, 1964.

NT -- Jacques Gravens. Non-Human Thought: The Mysteries of the Animal Psyche. New York: Stein and Day, 1967.

OAHC -- David Premack. "On the Abstractness of Human Concepts: Why It Would be Difficult to Talk to a Pigeon." Cognitive Processes in Animal Behavior. Ed. S. H. Hulse, H. Fowler and W. F. Honig. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum, 1978.

RC -- Gordon Gallup, Jr. "Reason in the Chimp: I. Analogical Reasoning." Journal of Experimental Psychology 7:1 (Jan. 1981): 1-13; "Reason in the Chimp: II. Transitive Inference." Ibid., 7.2 150-164.

RNHB -- Susan B. Armstrong. "The Rights of Nonhuman Beings. A Whiteheadian Study." Diss. Bryn Mawr College, 1976.

RP -- Anne Longman. "Reading Project." Gorilla Journal 6:2 (June 1983): 6.

SAP -- Gordon Gallup, Jr. "Self-Awareness in Primates." American Scientist 67 (1979): 417-21.

SCTP -- David Lubinski and Kenneth MacCorquodale. "‘Symbolic Communication’ Between Two Pigeons (Columba livia) Without Unconditional Reinforcement." Journal of Comparative Psychology 98:4 (1984): 322-80.

SRCM -- Gordon G. Gallup, Jr. "Self-Recognition in Chimpanzees and Man: A Developmental and Comparative Perspective." The Child and Its Family. Ed. Michael Lewis and Leonard A. Rosenblum. New York: Plenum, 1979.

SRCOG -- Susan D. Suarez and Gordon G. Gallup, Jr. "Self-Recognition in Chimps and Orangutans, but Not Gorillas." Journal of Human Evolution 10(1981): 175-188.

SRG -- Francine Patterson. "Self-Recognition by Gorilla gorilla gorilla." Gorilla Journal 7:2 (1984): 2-3.

SRMRM -- Susan Suarez and Gordon Gallup, Jr. "Social Responding to Mirrors in Rhesus Macques (Macaca mulatta): Effects of Changing Mirror Locations." American Journal of Primatology 11(1986): 239-244.

TOSA -- Shelley Duval and Robert A. Wicklund. A Theory of Objective Self-Awareness. New York: Academic Press, 1972.

TUP -- Janet Cebula. "Tales of an Understaffed Project." Gorilla Journal 9.1 (Dec. 85): 9-10.

TWW -- Otto Koehler. "Thinking Without Words." Proceedings of the 14th International Zoological Congress (Copenhagen, 1953): 75-88.

 

Notes

1Whitehead rules out an actual entity being conscious of its own satisfaction because such consciousness would require objectification (PR 85/130). However, as Schindler has suggested, self-consciousness could be understood as immanent in the present moment of experience as a nonthetic consciousness which would not amount to knowledge in the sense of objectification. However, this nonthetic consciousness would not qualify as consciousness under Whitehead’s definition. See CSPC 187-90.

2 Whitehead allows for indefinitely higher grades of contrasts (PR 22/33).

3‘Concretum’ is a term coined by George L. Kline to refer to the "post-concrescent product of concrescent processes," a "perished" concrescence. See G. L. Kline, "Form, Concrescence, and Concretum," Explorations in Whitehead’s Philosophy, ed. Lewis S. Ford and George L. Kline (New York: Fordham University Press, 1983), 104-46.

4 For a fuller discussion, see RNHB, chaps. 3-5.

5 In his field study of chimpanzees, Menzel states that to equate communicative ability to gestural or vocal responses is anthropocentric. See CMC.

6 Dolphins have been shown to form the concept of novelty in experiments in which they are rewarded for maneuvers never before executed. Interestingly, a pigeon was also trained to perform a new action each day. Examples included lying on its back, standing with both feet on one wing, and flying up into the air a few inches and hovering there. Karen Pryor, Lads before the Wind (New York: Harper and Row, 1975), 248f.

7Experimental evidence in human beings shows that rare and more complex stimuli elicit larger P300 potentials with a larger latency.

8A third prominent effort is that of Duane and Sue Rumbaugh, utilizing a modified computer. See Language Learning by a Chimpanzee: The Lana Project, ed. Duane M. Rumbaugh (New York: Academic Press, 1977). For an excellent overview and critique of all of the primate language investigations, see Carolyn S. Ristau and Donald Robbins, ‘Language in the Great Apes: A Critical Review," Advances in the Study of Behavior, ed. Jay S. Rosenblatt, Robert A. Hinde, Colin Beer and Marie-Claire Busnel, vol. 12 (New York: Academic Press, 1982), 141-255.

9 Other investigators have found similar results with a chimp using the terms "same" or "different." See Steven J. Muncer, "Conversations with a Chimpanzee," Developmental Psychology 16:1(1983): 1-11.

10 Recently the Gorilla Foundation has adopted the term "simultaneous communication" (SimCom) to refer to this system, in which a communicator uses gestural signs and verbal speech at the same time. See Gorilla Journal 10:2 (June 1987): 2.

11 Koko’s spontaneous use of questions challenges Premack’s claim that the ape is incapable of recognizing deficiencies in its own knowledge (MA 26).

12 Herman’s more recent work indicates that language experience affects what features are attended to by both dolphins and human beings in sign recognition. See Melissa R. Shyan and Louis M. Herman, "Determinants of Recognition of Gestural Signs in an Artificial Language by Atlantic Bottle-Nosed Dolphins (Tursiops truncatus) and Humans (Homo sapiens)," Journal of Comparative Psychology 101:2 (1987): 112-25.

13 Similar tests with a sea lion established a comprehensive repertoire of sentence lengths up to 7 signs. Ronded J. Schusterman and Kathy Kzieger, "Artificial Language Comprehension and Size Transposition by a California Sea Lion (Zalophus californianas);" Journal of Comparative Psychology 100:4 (1986): 348-355.

14 No occasion considered by itself can be self-conscious, or even alive, since many subordinate societies, both organic and inorganic, are required as preconditions for the attainment of the complexity of self-consciousness.

15 Parantje maintains that the existence of a "no thought" zone of consciousness can be verified by anyone willing to follow yogic or Vedantic methods, and that Husserl’s reductive phenomenology is similar to yogic methods. See A. C. Paranjpe. Theoretical Psychology. The Meeting of East and West (New York and London: Plenum Press, 1984), 203ff.

16 Ernest L. Simmons, Jr., has pioneered a helpful account in "Mystical Consciousness In a Process Perspective" PS 14:1 (1984): 1-10. 1 believe, however, that his emphasis on pure self-consciousness as simply the experience of causal efficacy does not fully allow for the experience of freedom from determination by the contents of consciousness as well as for other higher-order experience.

17We should note, however, with regard to all use of self-recognition in mirrors as an indicator of self-consciousness that self-consciousness probably goes through many developmental transformations, some of which may not lend themselves to mirror testing. Also, there may be modality-specific senses of self(e.g.. hearing as opposed to sight). See James R. Anderson, "The Development of Self-Recognition: A Review," Developmental Psychology 17:1 (1984): 35-49.

18 Other studies indicate that chimps but not rhesus monkeys are able to recognize themselves on television (CSPS 211).

19On the similarity of development of mirror behavior in humans and nonhumans, see S. Robert, "Ontogency of Mirror Behavior in Two Species of Great Apes." American Journal of Primatology 10 (1986): 109-117.

20 This term was suggested to me by Whitney W. Buck.

21 Deceptive interactions have also been observed in a group of captive Asian elephants. See Maxinne D. Morris, "Large Scale Deceit: Deception by Captive Elephants?" (D 183-191).

22 Experiments with children indicate that the recursive awareness of intention (second-level intentionality) develops between the ages of 3 and 5. See Thomas R. Shultz and Karen Gloghesy, "Development of Recursive Awareness of Intention," Developmental Psychology 17:4 (1981): 465-471.

23 She also notes that in her studies gorillas give clearer evidence of deception than do chimps or orangutans.

On the Formation of Ontological Concepts: the Theories of Whitehead and Piaget

Translated by Carolyn Wolf Spanier and John M. Sweeney

The present paper is an attempt to investigate connections between Whitehead’s work on ontological theory and Piaget’s genetic theory of cognition. Although Whitehead’s philosophy of organism is an explicitly metaphysical theory and Piaget’s genetic theory of cognition is markedly a naturalistic theory, the first part of this paper contends that an extensive relationship exists between the two theories. The second part addresses, in a more limited sense, another issue, namely, the emergence of a "genetic ontology" from a "genetic epistemology." What a genetic ontology can contribute to questions posed by Whitehead is illustrated in the third part regarding the complex problem of the concept of "organism" versus the notion of "thing."

I. Whitehead and Piaget: Metaphysical and Naturalistic Process Thinking

That Piaget’s genetic theory of cognition should stand in a real relationship to Whitehead’ s philosophy of organism is no longer surprising if one thinks that the former represents a naturalistic variant of the same process thinking that Whitehead had developed in a metaphysical form. The general assumption of both theorists has been expressed by Whitehead as the "principle of process": how an entity becomes constitutes what an entity is (PR 23/28). Whitehead came up with the result that the description of the "being" of an entity ultimately cannot be formulated independently from the description of its "becoming." This does not exclude the possibility of both analyses being carried out largely independently of one another. A cell-unit of reality, or "actual-entity," is analyzable, according to Whitehead, "genetically" as well as "morphologically" (PR 219/256), and he himself carried out these two analyses in two separate parts of his main work (PR sections III, IV). Nevertheless, the analyses are related intrinsically because the process which leads to an "actual occasion" makes up its inner constitution. The "morphology" of such an occasion does not reflect anything other than its objective "satisfaction," or, as we might say, the statically observed result of the process which constitutes the occasion. Each "morphology" -- even when it results in the form of a static description of structure -- is capable of finding a more profound explanation only with the help of the genetic analysis, which alone can show how and why a structure has become that which it is.

If one moves from here to the foundation that Piaget gave for his genetic theory of cognition, then it is easily recognizable that his theory can function as the applied cognitive theory for Whitehead’s process principle (IEG I). Piaget perceived that the disadvantage of all traditional theories of cognition is that they have viewed cognition too often as a state and not often enough as a process (PE 7f.). This applies especially to Kant, who saw sciences like logic and physics as definitely fixed; therefore, Kant’s inquiry into the possible foundations of logic and physics, presupposed as invariable, did not take into account the fact that his own Aristotelian logic and Newtonian physics were historical, and therefore changing, forms of these sciences. The understanding of the process character of cognition, in the history of humankind as well as in respect to the individual, brought Piaget to renew decisively the issue of cognitive theory. His research departed from the claim of the Neo-Kantians, particularly of the French historical-critical school, and understood the development of cognition as an historical process, within which the history of science continues to bring forward new approaches and new conceptual methods. As a revolutionary achievement, contrary to the traditional interpretation that the child has in principle at its disposal the same means of cognition as the adult, Piaget discovered that the development of the individual from child to adult must also be seen as a sequential building-up process of more and more complex structures of cognition.

Thus, the psychogenesis of the structures of cognition became the central part of Piaget’s work. Just as Whitehead, in his phases, wanted to analyze the "genetic process" constituting an "actual occasion" (PR 26/31), Piaget tried to understand the most important stages of development of the (active) "epistemic" subject and the mechanics of their construction. Analogous to Whitehead’s process principle, in the formation of the structures of cognition, Piaget saw more than simply the conditions which allow for cognition (EG 115f.). He intended to show the genetic construction of the cognitive forms by the subject as actually constitutive of these forms. Also because the cognitive forms of the subject are the foundations of possibility of its cognition, Piaget could say that the cognition’s "Being" is constituted by its "becoming." The basis on which the genetic cognitive theory stands and which actually gives the genetic question its meaning is consequently nothing more than a specification of Whitehead’s process principle: how cognition becomes constitutes what cognition is, so that both analyses, relative to cognition, ultimately include one another. What Whitehead called the "genetic" and the "morphological" manner of thinking, Piaget summarized in the idea of the general method and interpretation of "genetic structuralism" (ESH 7); both explicitly assert that structure and genesis are interdependent: each structure, from the biological to the cognitive, is to be understood as the result of a process of formation, which conversely can only be understood as the continuous development of potential structures (BC 193; S 121).

Piaget approached the psychogenesis of cognition specifically by means of an empirical psychology (cf. EG 6f.) -- and thereby became a developmental psychologist. Nevertheless, Piaget’s psychology must itself be seen as a fundamental shifting of paradigms within the humanities, which puts the humanities into a new relationship with philosophy (cf. PPE). Psychology, as Piaget pursued it, does not aim merely in a positivistic sense to bring empirical data under a general form of law and, therefore, to make possible the predictions like the if-then sentences of the behavioristic stimulus-reaction-pattern. Rather Piaget dealt here primarily with the uncovering of structures as holistic forms of organization, which underlie the behavior and more especially the cognitive capabilities of the subject in question. "Structure" is thereby understood as the scientific parallel to the philosophical concept of form or of essence (S 7). Piaget fell into the same tradition as Kant when Piaget allowed each cognition to be dependent on cognitive forms previously developed (cf. EG 120). Moreover, Piaget also fell into the tradition of Aristotle when he conceived the cognitive forms genetically as a continuation of the biological organization of the natural subject, which interacts with its environment (cf. BC 73).

Within the history of psychology, structuralism goes back particularly to Gestalt psychology, which, with the discovery of unities of perception, broke most decidedly with the interpretation of cognition as a mechanical association of elementary impressions and ideas. Whitehead, who spoke of "the great merit of the ‘Gestalt’ people," had apparently recognized and welcomed this change (letter to Hartshorne, KE 199). The structuralism of Piaget stands even closer to Whiteheadian thought, however, just because of its explicitly "genetic" character. What Piaget criticized about Gestalt psychology is its one-sided reduction of perceptive forms to physical laws of the field (S 51f.). Formulated another way, Gestalt psychology does not give sufficient consideration to the structuring activity of the subject, which continues to produce, in addition to the forms of perception (which themselves undergo a development), new cognitive structures and especially thought structures, which in the end have little in common with perceptive figurations. The naturalism of Piaget is, according to his own explanation, just as far removed from positivism as from an excessive reductionism (EG 10, 121f.). Without being an idealistic theory, the genetic theory of cognition emphasizes the activity of the (active) "epistemic" subject, since this theory sees in cognition particularly a continuous construction of the subject.

In regard to metaphysics, however, Piaget departed fundamentally from Whitehead’s position. In expressing his naturalism Piaget kept his theory on a level of pure immanence, unlike Whitehead, who appealed to a timeless transcendent realm of ideas ("eternal objects"), Piaget saw "forms" only as the constructions of natural subjects, and he wanted to explain this construction as a process of self-regulation. Nevertheless, as paradoxical as it sounds, underlying this difference is also a relationship between Piaget and Whitehead, i.e., Piaget presented a strictly naturalistic interpretation of the Whiteheadian "ontological principle." In sharp contrast to the French structuralists (particularly Foucault), Piaget was not ready to let structures exist independently of real subjects. Structures, whether concrete or abstract, could, according to Piaget, exist only as resultants of effective construction (S 120) and, thereby, only in a subject which is constructing them -- a subject that, as for Whitehead, in no way is to be equivalent to a conscious "I ," but rather which is initially to be understood as an "organic" subject. So the appeal to a realm of ideas existing independently was not a consideration at all for Piaget.

With this concept of natural subjectivity oriented to the living, Piaget pursued the philosophy of organism of Whitehead on the level of natural and social sciences. Piaget said that Whitehead had recognized the inadequacy of mechanical means of explanation and had set forth the distinctive importance of the concept of organism (ESH 312). In overcoming the opposition of mechanism and vitalism within biology, Piaget referred to Ludwig von Bertalanffy’s organicism (BC 218f.). For Piaget, as for his predecessors, the living organism was the prototype of a holistic structure and the connecting link between, on the one hand, physical-chemical systems and, on the other hand, the thinking subject (S 40). In the living organism he saw the key to a genetic structuralism; what the genetic theory of cognition wants to analyze by the term psychogenesis is specifically the emergence of the so-called knowing, intelligent subject from the preliminary stages of biological organization; that is, the step-by-step ensuing construction of symbolic conceptual structures and thinking structures, following from the sensori-motor performance basis of cognition.

Accordingly, fundamental correspondence would appear relative to the development of cognition itself. As Whitehead allowed cognition to be grounded in real prehensions, which occur between a subject and its object world, so also it was for Piaget: the "epistemic" subject, as an organism, previously an "open system" which simply lives in interaction with its environment, acts -- and finally, thinks (BC 477).

2. Genetic Epistemology -- Genetic Ontology

Further, we pose the question of how the research results of Piaget’s genetic theory of cognition could be significant for a critical review of Whitehead’s position on the origin and range of ontological concepts. Questions of origin are genetic questions, as far as they concern the experience of reality of the "epistemic" subject, out of which that subject’s interpretation of reality emerges. So it may be expected that Piaget’s research can empirically clarify and perhaps confirm or refute Whitehead’s contention. Nevertheless, it is important to emphasize that the genetic theory of cognition -- in the form proposed by Piaget (IEG) -- was not applied, at least not primarily, to ontological issues. In order to consider ontological issues within the perspective proposed by Piaget, we would like to examine in what sense a "genetic ontology" could be a welcome addition to the Piagetian "genetic epistemology."

The expression "épistémologie génétique," coined by Piaget, has not the same connotation and extent as the English term "epistemology." The rendering of "genetic epistemology" for "épistémologie génétique" is, therefore, misleading because it calls to mind the idea of a theory of cognition, which, according to the traditional philosophical connotation, has to do with the development of cognition in a broad sense, in all its forms and possibilities. According to the prevailing usage of "épistémologie" in French, Piaget was primarily concerned with the development of scientific thinking in a narrower sense, as it is met in logic and mathematics and in natural and social sciences. According to the intention of its founder, genetic epistemology should examine how scientific thinking, as it pertains to the established sciences, becomes possible in the development of the individual from child to adult; genetic epistemology should further ask about the relationships between this ontogenetic process and the phylogenetic process of the history of humankind as the history of science. Genetic epistemology was thought to be a keystone, which would round out the sciences. The very process of formation of the sciences should be first of all disclosed by means of scientific research, research available to developmental psychology.

According to this goal of studying genetic epistemology, the psychologist looked chiefly at the development of logical-mathematical structures in the developing "epistemic" subject, and further, at the application of these structures as instruments for the explanation of the physical world. Ontological questions were, thereby, only indirectly raised and not explicitly addressed. Already Piaget had been thinking about bringing the ontological issue to discussion in the form of a "genetic ontology" and had, in an early work, differentiated between the "logical" and the "ontological" development (CPE 338), that is, between the development of the "formal" and the "real" categories, as this development is referred to by Hoeffding. The clarification of the development of our perception of reality, of concepts, and of ideas of being would, therefore, generally fall, for purposes of investigation, into the realm of genetic ontology. This Piagetian idea is discussed below and brought into connection with Whiteheadian issues.

First we shall attempt to sketch more closely the idea, the presuppositions, the possibilities, and the boundaries of a genetic ontology. The term "ontology" has received a double meaning in the course of its history: it means, in its different applications, not only the philosophical theory of being but also the consideration of the human’s statements about reality. In particular Heidegger had moved this second aspect to the foreground in the reconsideration of the human being as the originally onto-logical being, by claiming its illumination in a "fundamental ontology." A genetic ontology wants to and can concern itself only in this second sense with the question of Being; it poses the question of how the perception of reality develops, that is, how "beings" at the different stages of development are "expressed" or "categorized." The statements about reality, which genetic ontology wants to look at, can be explicit or implicit. Next to, or in front of, the explicit reflected ontology of philosophers, we may already assign to the natural subject an implicit ontology, as the implicit ontology is chiefly comprehensible in the natural language; the ontology of scientists takes an intermediate position, which scientists explain to the extent that they become aware of the perception of reality, which their concepts and models presuppose. The differentiation between "implicit" and "explicit" ontologies is meant to be a gradation -- from the statements about reality by the natural subject to those of the scientist and on to those of the philosopher. Also the ontologies of philosophers can only partially be taken as explicit. They, too, have their own unstated assumptions, which can exist in direct relationship to those assumptions which the natural subject makes. Even more so the same is true for the historical forms of the sciences, which have their own pre-forms in the natural subject. The clarification of the relationships between historical, philosophical, and scientific ontologies and the spontaneous perception of reality of the natural subject, which is itself developing, proves to be the central area of questions in a genetic ontology.

The two principal assumptions of genetic ontology are clear. As the name "genetic ontology" indicates, one general assumption is that the human’s statements about reality express the experience of a genesis of being -- and to be sure in a phylogenetic as well as in an ontogenetic sense, that is, in the form of an historical-evolutionary as well as an individual process. In the history of philosophy the assumption of a sequence of ontologies is undisputed. More and more, however, such a sequence is also accepted in the history of science. To be sure, in the history of philosophy as well as in the history of science, opinions diverge radically about the direction or lack of direction of the process and, specifically, about the "progress" which has been perhaps the goal of the process. Less obvious is the second assumptio4l, that the development of the individual from child to adult also points to a sequence of implicit ontologies, which differ quite basically from one another. Whoever is familiar with the results of Piaget’s research will scarcely doubt that the perception of reality of a five-year-old child is basically different from that of a ten-year-old and that the fifteen-year-old interprets reality again quite differently. Further, the relationship of correspondence, in which some of these stages of development parallel the historical forms of science and philosophy, is astonishing. Thus, the results of Piaget’s work suggest that a genetic ontology really opens a large area of research for investigation. Genetic ontology would be nothing else than the attempt, analogous to genetic epistemology, to investigate the genesis of ontologies2 as humans experience and express this genesis. Genetic ontology would study the development of ontologies in an individual subject and bring these ontologies, where possible, into relationship with the historical sequences of ontologies.

Such a research program carried out in the methodological manner of Piagetian psychogenetic research, does not mean that psychology can dictate for itself, out of those categories of actual development, answers to the question of how adequate are our categories of reality. Also, for a well-understood genetic ontology the limitation, as suggested in Heidegger, that this ontology is "only one way," is also true for fundamental ontology (SZ 436). For the deeper task of an ontology is the working out of categories adequate to reality; genetic ontology is capable only of leading in that direction in a preparatory way. Genetic ontology cannot really say anything about how "beings" should be expressed, that is, what is the adequate ontology possible in the present day context in the sense of a theory of beings. Perhaps -- and this is something only the performance of genetic ontology can decide -- genetic ontology is capable of better explaining to us how beings are always understood in the natural development of the human subject, whence our concepts of Being come, under which mode of meaning these concepts stand, and what their relationships are to historical ontologies.

As we know Whiteheadian philosophy already contains a genetic ontology (although not based on empirical proofs) and has broached its problems as almost no other philosophy has done. A decisively critical function in the development of Whitehead’s own ontological scheme of categories moreover belongs to both the historical-critical and the psychogenetic components. Whitehead worked over this scheme of categories in discussion with the historical ontologies, in weighing their successes and mishaps; however, he substantiated this scheme in the end from the self-experience of the subject as his point of departure, as the "reformed subjectivist principle" shows. The evaluation of our elements of experience results from the criteria of originality and depth; decisive for the value-setting of the elements of experience is nothing less than that which one could call their "genetic place" in the whole of experience. Thus, the thing-concept of reality is rejected as superficial because Whitehead thought he was able to show that the thing-concept of reality corresponded to a high grade of abstraction and represented a late derivative concept. For his own organismic concept of reality Whitehead pointed consciously to the originally ordered experience of our selfhood in interaction with the world. What original and derivative moments of our experience are and how they relate to one another in the whole of experience is better explained again in connection with a genetic analysis, i.e., with that of the formation of consciousness. Whitehead’s conception of philosophy is, therefore, not thinkable outside of this genetic perspective. Philosophy is understood as the self-correction of consciousness, which tries to integrate those elements of experience which consciousness, as it is developing itself and advancing selectively, leaves largely unconsidered in its focusing on a pragmatically arranged reality consisting of a world of things. Thus, a way of conceptual work is indicated for philosophy; this way leads back from the late, clear but superficial abstractions to the original, confused but deeper aspects of our concrete experience of reality (cf. PSM).

In its entirety Whitehead’s philosophy offers not only an original ontology, in the classical sense of the word of a theory of being, but includes also -- as a critical basis of the former -- an abundance of statements having to do with the genesis of ontological concepts. The status of these statements is diverse; along with highly gifted intuitions, and also often constructions, there are to be found descriptive analyses of experience which go into detail. Whitehead returned quite unquestionably to experience, without, however, having given his theories a systematic empirical basis in the sense of empirical human science as we now understand it. However, as historical coincidence in the second half of the Twenties, in which Whitehead completed his metaphysics, Piaget published his first books on the world-view of the child. Therein for the first time a body of empirical material was collected and interpreted, confirming at least empirically some of the theses of Whitehead and certainly confirming empirically an organismic conception of reality as opposed to a notion of ‘things." The next, and last, section illustrates this by starting with Piaget’s early research, which could contribute a genetic ontology as a basis for and continued development of Whiteheadian theory.

3. A Genetic Study of the Concept of "Organism" Versus the Notion of "Thing"

In his early research into the child’s world-view, Piaget showed that the thing-concept, as Whitehead criticized it, actually appears rather late in a child’s development and represents an abstraction from earlier and more concrete perceptions (RME) Not until around ten years of age does the child come to see "things" in reality in the way the adult sees "things" in reality and uses the thing-concept consciously, that is argumentatively. If one asks the child if an object feels anything, then the child answers: No, because it is a thing and has no life" (RME 181). From this and other examples it is clear that the ten-year-old child, for the first time, connects with the thing-concept those ideas which Whitehead had laid out as characteristic for the notion of "thing." If it is said of a "thing" that it "doesn’t feel anything" and "has no life," then the child denies the "thing" its own movement and spontaneity; a "thing" is something that is simply there and that, without any initiative from itself, endures movements and changes. Everything suggests that the child first accepts a "simple location" relative to "things"; prior to this acceptance the child grants universal relationships unequivocally to all beings.

What is particularly important to point out in our context is the circumstances that this thing-concept and the associated ideas of lifelessness, of lack of feeling, of passivity, of obstinacy, and of "simple location" pretty much represent the exact opposite of that spontaneous and general perception of reality which belongs to younger children. The small child proceeds universally from the idea of an all-governing life; whatever moves and insofar as it moves, the child thinks, in the beginning, is alive and feels something. Each movement is thereby conceived implicitly as a movement produced by the entity itself. Then a differentiating process sets in, by which the child begins to distinguish between self-movement and movement received from outside. As a result of this differentiation life is kept in reserve for beings with self-movements, and around the tenth year these movements become ultimately limited to animals and plants (prior to that time water and the constellations are considered as living because self-movement is imparted to them) (RME 166-200). But even when the child has learned to distinguish between the self-movement and movement being received from outside, that still does not mean that the child accepts, in the last analysis, a pure passivity of the moved thing. More so, the role of the mover is compared to that of an initiator of movement; the initiator "makes" something move, whereby the movement includes the participation of the moved (RME 404). Here it becomes clear that the concept of a passive thing, which is only moved from the outside, represents a type of limitation in the development of the child’s cognition; the child first comes to this cognition by disregarding each spontaneous movement which has been primary for the child. Analogous to this are also feelings, consciousness, and intentions, which the child initially attributes to all beings and eventually limits to animals and humans; typically, as the previous statements about passivity and self-movement indicate, feelings, consciousness, and intentions are explicitly taken away from "things." Also the corresponding idea of an unrelated juxtaposition, as in the Whiteheadian notion of "simple location," appears, of course, late in a child’s development; in the beginning the child believes spontaneously in an interconnectedness among all beings, that is in their reciprocal participation and ability to be influenced by each other. (The moon follows us, and we are that which causes it to follow us.) Similarly, just as with primitive people, the child accepts, in the beginning, a universal "participation," as Piaget said, referring to the work of Lévy-Bruhl.

It is not necessary to give here a more exact description of the psychogenesis of the ideas and concepts of reality since we are much more interested in the sense of direction than in the details of this development. The few above-mentioned examples might have already shown that the natural development of cognition in the child in no way corresponds to the process which Whitehead called "clear-cut philosophy" (PR 209f./242). The child does not proceed from the simplest, rudimentary notion of "thing" of the real, which the child would then enrich in further steps by the addition of other conditions like "life," "feeling," and "will," so that the conception also fits the more complex areas of reality. The opposite is the case: from the beginning the child looks at a confusing pattern which presents all these aspects in each and every reality, and slowly the child learns to comprehend these aspects in concepts and to limit their area of validity. Said another way, the child adds no new aspects to a rudimentary notion of reality, but rather separates out differentiated aspects like self-movement and feeling from realities recognized as more impoverished. The thing-concept is then the left-over product of such a separating process; it is, as Whitehead contended, a late abstraction.

Let us ask ourselves now why the psychogenetic development runs this way and not the opposite way. Piaget found an explanation in the fact that initially the childlike subject does not yet differentiate between itself and the object world (RME 155f.). Therefore, the child comprehends the whole reality as corresponding to its own self-experience -- a self-experience which, according to the naive realism of the child, is simultaneously the experience of other entities. Piaget chose the expression of "ontological egocentricity" for the early childlike method of interpretation. The term "egocentricity" can be misleading in this context because this term is usually related to the acceptance of a conscious "I" which is projected onto reality. The idea of such a projection is to be rejected, nevertheless, in the case of the small child since this idea presupposes a separation between the inner world and the outer world, a separation which does not yet exist. For Piaget, the ontological egocentricity of the child was due primarily to the fact that the child does not yet differentiate its selfhood from the Being of the universe (RME 110, 241); therefore, the child is not yet conscious of itself as being other over against the world and, therefore, interprets the whole reality according to its own experience. The unquestionably primal reality of the child is the interaction with the environment which the child perceives as it experiences itself in its relationship to the environment. To me it appears not misleading to see, in this ontological egocentricity, a natural first pre-form of that statement of interpretation which Whitehead has brought to a new importance with his "reformed subjectivist principle" on an entirely different, theoretical level -- and, therewith, naturally under completely different conditions (PR 160/186). This principle, which views the real subject of the self-experience as standing in real relationships to a real object world, emphasizes again that the self-experience as experience of interaction is correct. For the child who sees spontaneity, feeling, and intention everywhere, the central sentence of Whitehead is applicable in its own way: "Apart from the experiences of subjects there is nothing, nothing, nothing, bare nothingness" (PR 167/194).

What then, in a process of development which stretches itself out over several stages, produces that rethinking which brings a child to differentiate between spontaneous movement and movement received from outside, reserving the former for organisms and thing-ifying the rest of reality? That artifacts, and especially simple machines, are first separated from that which has life, seems important; here is where spontaneity is missing, and the role of outer momentum is most evident. For simple machines like a bicycle we also find the earliest stages of an explanation, which can be classified as mechanical and which looks away from a self-propelled movement and switches over to external influences; from seven to eight years of age the child is, in the realm of mechanical things, capable of understanding movements in function of transmissions (RME 221-266). Subsequently a gradual general alteration of the perception of reality takes place, in the sense of an increasing mechanization of the explanation of nature which is, as Piaget surmised, internally dependent on the initial correct understanding of machines (CPE 263f.). The machine appears consequently as prototype and paradigm of a new model of explanation. The concept of an inactive and feelingless "thing" appears parallel to this first concept of a mechanical causality. Accordingly, Whitehead might have been completely correct in relation to psychogenesis if he considered the object perception of reality as the result of human practice, that is, of the understandable association with artifacts and particularly with machines. What one can historically describe as the "mechanization of the image of the world" is, at any rate in an environment formed by machines, a process which is also being looked at psychogenetically; this process advances the same object categories and ideas of movement, if only in a rudimentary, pre-reflexive manner, which might, especially for that reason, influence thinking so much more persistently.

The analysis of the psychogenesis of the concepts and ideas of reality appears thus to confirm completely Whitehead’s notion according to which the concept of substance, which is determined by the idea of the thing, represents a late abstraction which has sacrificed important aspects of our original experience of self and the world. What becomes evident then is the similarity which exists between the genetically early forms of the understanding of reality and the explanations of the philosophy of organism. There seems to be no doubt that Whitehead’s organismic conception of reality stands closer to the child’s early image of the world than to the later phase of thing-ification.

Nevertheless, the above comparative analysis must not be completely misunderstood. In no way is it contended that Whitehead’s philosophy of organism comes close to a "return" to early childlike perceptions. Such a contention would be absurd; it would completely misconstrue the differences between early natural thinking and the theoretical work of conceptualization. Such an absurd contention would reduce fundamentally different levels of thought to a single level.

We do not have to decide at this point if, and in which regard, the early childlike interpretation of reality in the mode of "ontological egocentricity" is more adequate or more inadequate than the later object-oriented perception of reality. Overall one can say that the early childlike interpretation continues to hold those aspects, which are known to the child’s self in the experience of its self, to be present everywhere, aspects which later in the thing-ification of reality and the mechanization of explanation are let go from many areas. In this sense the early childlike image of the world is without doubt richer than the later, thinglike-mechanical thinking. Not in vain does the charm of lost childhood move poets -- just as it is not an accident that Whitehead reached back to the nature poetry of romanticism for a fuller understanding of Nature. On the other hand, that which Piaget called "childlike animism" -- the equipping of all areas with magical powers, with life and feeling, even those areas which are unequivocally "lifeless" for adults -- is most certainly an excessive, that is an overly anthropomorphic, understanding of reality (RME 158). Compared with these childlike deformations Whitehead’s philosophy works with distinctions which are not at all thinkable in the pre-reflexive, pre-theoretical niveau of a child.

The close association, as argued above, of the philosophy of organism to the spontaneous childlike interpretation of reality, which occurs prior to the thing-ification of reality, is not rendered meaningless by the recognition of these differences. There is a basic difference between two ways of thinking. One way follows the tendency of abstracting towards simplification, as this tendency appears preliminarily sketched in the psychogenetic development right down to the concept of "thing" and in the mechanization of the explanation. The other way of thinking wants to consciously correct the one-sidedness of this strategy of simplification (which is without doubt necessary) by trying again to apprehend those aspects which the self-developing consciousness splits from the more basic categories and, primarily, from the conception of "thing." Whitehead’s greatness actually lies in that he knew these two possible ways of thinking as probably no other philosopher before him and decided unequivocally for the latter. Here again one is reminded of Whitehead’s analysis of the origin of a hitherto dominant, superficial concept of substance out of the pragmatic arrangement of reality and especially of the explicitly formulated thought that logical simplicity, distinction, and clarity may not be equated with ontological originality and depth (PR 54/69; 162/188). From this analysis emerged Whitehead’s own interpretation of philosophy, whose job, as he saw it, was not to continue to carry further the discrimination made by our consciousness, but rather, conversely, Whitehead required that philosophy connects the later abstractions of consciousness with the original totality of experience (PR 14f./18f.). Now it is understood why he was so against every form of the "Fallacy of Misplaced Concreteness" as well as why he was for a philosophical "critique of abstractions."

From the above perspective it appears more than coincidental that Whitehead’s path from the abstract to the concrete, from the notion of "thing" to an organismic conception of reality, led him again into the arena of those ways of understanding which are themselves found in the psychogenetic development before the stages involving the thing-ification of reality and the mechanization of explanation. As Piaget spoke of animism for the early stages of the child’s development, so also Whitehead has often been reproached as a "Panpsychist." This reproach is clearly superficial, even if it is not completely unfounded: as emphasized previously, seeing a return to genetic early forms in a philosophy of organism would be absurd, just as seeing a return to animism in the proposals of Piaget would be absurd. In both cases, however, the dominance of similar means of understanding is unmistakable, as both are based on biocentricity; in this perspective it appears then completely valid to look at Whitehead’s philosophy of organism as a purified and newly founded resumption of that which appeared previously as animism, before being overlaid by thing-ification. Similar relationships could be established in regard to teleological thinking and participatory thinking.

In conclusion, it would be important to ask whether or not, with its claim to a return to concreteness, the philosophy of organism moves eo ipso in a circle of understanding, which leads the philosophy of organism back -- on a higher level or according to a known image in a spiral form -- to genetically earlier stages of understanding than those of the average adult. The development of cognition in general is conceived in Piaget’s genetic theory as a reconstruction of earlier forms of cognitive organization with new means and on a new level; the best known example of this development is the transformation and reconstruction of sensori-motor activity schemata into symbolic-conceptual thinking operations. Such reconstructions incorporate earlier constructions; they point, however, quite unequivocally beyond these constructions (cf. BC 458f.). Similar developmental laws might also be valid for our understanding of reality. The above established relationship between the philosophy of organism and the genetic early forms of our perception of reality say nothing against the philosophy of organism, but rather say something for it, on the condition that the existence of essential niveau differences, the integration of necessary differentiations, and the rejection of anthropomorphic formations, point to an obvious need for a whole new conceptual elaboration.

 

References

BC -- Jean Piaget. Biologie et connaissance. Essai sur les régulations entre les régulations organiques et les processus cognitifs. 2nd ed. Paris: Gallimard (Idees), 1973.

CPE -- Jean Piaget. La causalite physique chez l’enfant. Paris: Alcan, 1927.

EG -- Jean Piaget. L’épistémologie génétique. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1970.

EPW -- Ernst Cassirer. Das Erkenntnisproblem in der Philosophie und Wissenschaft der neueren Zeit. Vol. 1. Hildesheim: Olms, 1971.

ESH -- Jean Piaget. Epistémologie des sciences de I

lEG -- Jean Piaget. Intruction à l’épistémologie génétique. Vol. I-III. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1950.

KE -- Alfred North Whitehead. Essays on His Philosophy. Ed. George Louis Kline. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 1963.

KrV -- Immanuel Kant. Kritik der reinen Vernunft. 2nd ed. 1787.

PE -- Jean Piaget. Psychologie et épistémologie. Paris: Denoel-Gonthier, 1970.

PHG -- George Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel. Phänomenologie des Geistes. Ed. Johannes Hoffmeister. Hamburg: Meiner, 1952.

PPE -- Reto Luzius Fetz. "Piaget als philosophisches Ereignis." Piaget und die Folgen. Ed. George Steiner. Die Psychologie des 20. Jahrhunderts. Vol. VII. Zurich: Kindler, 1978, 27-40.

PSM -- Reto Luzius Fetz. Whitehead: Prozessdenken und Substanzmetaphysik. Freiburg/Munich: Alber, 1981.

RME -- Jean Piaget. La représentation du monde chez l’enfant. Paris: Alcan, 1926.

S -- Jean Piaget. I.e structuralisme. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1968.

SZ -- Martin Heidegger. Sein und Zeit. 10th ed. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1963.

 

Notes

1Whitehead’s "ontological principle" is central to his process theory which posits quanta of experience as he fundamental basis of what humans understand as reality. In Whitehead’s terms, "Actual entities -- also termed ‘actual occasions’ -- are the final real things of which the world is made up. There is no going behind actual entities to find anything more real. . . . The final facts are, all alike, actual entities; and these actual entities are drops of experience, complex and interdependent." (PR 18/27-28)

2 Ontologies or basic ontological categories such as "idea," "thing," "object." "self," "God," "process," etc.

Aristotelian and Whiteheadian Conceptions of Actuality: II

(Note:  This essay was translated by James W Felt S.J., Professor of Philosophy at Santa Clara University, Santa Clara, CA 95053. Independently of Fetz’s book Felt published in Process Studies 14/4 (Winter 1985) an essay along some of the same lines: ‘Whitehead’s Misconception of ‘Substance’ in Aristotle.")

 

Whiteheadian Process Philosophy as Transformation of the Metaphysics of Spirit

Let us now take up in detail the process through which an [actual] entity becomes itself. In Whitehead’s view this process can mean the actualization of new and higher forms that were not yet "there" in the development of the world. As pure potentials these forms have their absolute ground in God. But how do they enter into the process of an ‘actual entity’ so as thereby to become ‘actual’?

Whitehead conceives the ‘mental pole’ as the "organ of novelty" (PR 391/516) Through the ‘conceptual’ prehensions attributed to it an actual entity’ feels the ideal of itself as its subjective aim’ whereby from these ‘conceptual feelings’ a ‘physical purpose’ results with which the ‘actual entity’ actualizes the previously held idea of itself From this it is clear that for Whitehead the ‘mental pole’ becomes the proper "place of forms"2 that Aristotle took to be the spiritual soul. And when Aristotle says that it is the forms "only potentially, not actually" (ibid), this also holds of the ‘mental pole’ insofar as the subjective aim’ prehended by it constitutes the possible final determination and not the already actualized self-identity of an ‘actual entity.’

Aristotle takes the spiritual soul to be the "place of the forms" because it possesses them through an act of knowledge. Such spiritual knowledge takes place through abstract, universal concepts. This spiritual activity [232]3 finds its resonance in Whitehead inasmuch as he calls the prehensions of the ‘mental pole’ ‘conceptual.’ But these conceptual’ prehensions are not necessarily conscious, and for that reason they cannot count as instances of knowledge if those are to be identified with instances of consciousness. Rather, their function is above all a purely ontological one, the appropriation of formal determinations to be actualized. Let us try to understand why Whitehead, by reason of his evolutionary thinking, opted for just this explanation, and what his ‘conceptual’ prehensions have in common with the "concepts" of the old metaphysics of spirit.

First of all, that Whitehead felt forced to deal with ‘conceptual’ prehensive events that are unconscious is, from an historical perspective, not so out of the way as it might appear. Judging from the history of the concept of spirit and of cognition, at least for all thinkers of a Platonic bent, specifically Aristotle himself,4 it becomes clear that the problem of consciousness by no means lies in the foreground. What characterizes spirit and thinking is primarily the range of their object, that is, the determinateness of something that stands out as something other than the perishable, changeable, and fortuitous things of the world; that, being universal and necessary, stands above time and place. What distinguishes spirit is its relation to the realm of the ideal. This directedness toward its object is so important for Aristotle that he treats the thinking subject and its act as "only by the way" present to themselves.5 That may turn out differently in Augustine, but even here the turn toward the ideal and eternal foundation of being marks the terminus of the "return to oneself."6 Descartes is the first to fashion the modern concept of consciousness that no longer stresses the field of the object but the self-presence of the subject.

Whitehead no longer takes consciousness to be something that constitutes a unique actuality, spirit; he certainly does not still regard consciousness as something fundamental, but more as simply a ‘subjective form’ of the more complex events of appropriation that are prehensions. In their complexity these consist [233] of ‘conceptual’ and ‘physical’ prehensions. In virtue of their objects, the prehensions that Whitehead calls ‘conceptual’ have all the characteristics traditionally ascribed to spiritual knowing; the very range of their objects is the ideal order. ‘Physical’ prehensions, on the other hand, describe the processes that take place within the reality of here and now. If the two Whiteheadian ‘poles,’ the ‘mental’ and the ‘physical,’ are regarded as the successors to the old concepts of spirit and matter -- which surely fits Whitehead’s meaning -- then Whitehead looms as the thinker who breaks with the modern era’s bias toward the problem of consciousness and who restores to its rightful place an analysis oriented toward the object, even to regarding such an analysis as alone decisive. What for Whitehead constitutes the ‘mental pole’ or "spirit" is in itself only the relationship to the ideal lying before it in the ‘conceptual’ prehensions. Consciousness is a supplementary factor that need not necessarily accompany the ‘conceptual’ or "spiritual" feelings, even if these in the end make consciousness possible.

But Whitehead’s ‘conceptual’ prehensions correspond in yet another respect to what is understood by "knowledge" in Aristotelianism. As Thomas Aquinas repeatedly mentions, "to know" means, as a first approximation, that a being is not just itself as this determinate actuality, but also is another, that is, by holding in itself other "forms," purely as forms, without at the same time itself having the real being that normally attaches to those forms.7 In this perspective, "knowing" expresses the possession of a multiplicity of forms that extends beyond the formal existence of the knower and includes forms that the knower in reality is not.

Now it is just this function that Whitehead assigns to the ‘mental pole’ and that he describes expressly in the ‘Category of Conceptual Reversion’ (PR 26/40,249/380). In virtue of this function, an ‘actual entity’ can include determinations of form that go beyond what is realized in the ‘physical pole’ of its initial phase. By means of such ‘conceptual’ prehensions the entity frames for itself a [234] self-image not of what it is but of what it ideally can be. It therefore holds true here, as well as in the above definition of knowledge, that the ‘conceptually’ felt realm of possibility of the ‘actual entity’ is wider than its ‘physical’ reality.

The Ideal Basis of Appetition

The ‘conceptually’ felt self-image provides the ‘actual entity’ with an aim that it endeavors ‘physically’ to realize. Whitehead’s ‘conceptual’ prehensions then are not an end in themselves but provide first of all for the adjustment and control of the ‘physical’ processes in view of the self that is to be actualized. Thereby the converse also holds, that Whitehead regards every appetition after an aim to be grounded in a ‘conceptual’ anticipation of the aim, even if it be unconscious. The ‘conceptually’ felt idea of the self is the final cause of its own process of self-creation. From the very beginning it belongs to the self-creating entity as its ‘subjective aim’ and is an essential element in its ‘satisfaction’ (PR 150/227).

For his theory of appetition Whitehead appeals to "idea" in the sense of Hegel (PR 167/254), to Leibniz (PR 32/47) and to the Eros of Plato (AI 354). In any case the conception is crucial for him that every appetition, as a basically rational process, must follow an idea that functions as an ideal and so is striven toward. Thus he also regards the ‘eternal objects’ as ultimately transtemporal possibilities for value that are called into actualization in the temporal process. Insofar as before their actualization in the world-process such possibilities for value can be felt only ‘conceptually,’ appetition proves to be for Whitehead the consequence of a "cognition" even though it be unconscious. In any case it is a determination through a form that the desiring entity does not ‘physically’ carry within itself.

In the tradition of Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas worked out precisely how every appetition is directed by a form as by its determining principle, whether this form really belong to a [235] being or be acquired in the act of knowing.8 Thus the kind of appetition peculiar to cognizant beings could be explained as an effect of their cognition. The appetition of spiritual beings is directed by the form acquired in spiritual knowing. If Whitehead’s doctrine of ‘conceptual feelings’ and the appetition resulting from them be regarded in this perspective it takes on the appearance of a generalization of this kind of appetition that is traditionally ascribed to spiritual beings. This generalization follows immediately when one bears in mind that Whitehead acknowledges a spiritual principle as belonging to every actual entity by reason of its mental pole. But the real ground of this generalization once again seems to us to lie in Whitehead’s thoroughly evolutionary and (in the Platonic sense) "idealistic" interpretation of actuality. Since he assigns to every actual entity the capacity of actualizing within the process of being itself a more complex form than that provided in the ‘physical pole’ of its initial phase, the entity must first of all ‘conceptually’ feel this unrealized form as an idea if it is to be determined by it as by a final cause.

If with Whitehead one conceives the process of actualization to be a creative advance, then it makes sense that he posits ‘conceptual valuation’ of the datum as the basic function of the ‘mental pole,’ prior to ‘conceptual reversion’ (PR 26/39, 248/379). For the emergence of new forms not only requires the ‘mental pole’ as the "organ of novelty." It requires it also to mediate between the newly arising formal determinations and the old forms already realized in the ‘physical pole.’ Such a mediation is possible only when the ‘physical’ datum is ‘conceptually’ prehended so as to be synthesized with the potentialities that transcend the datum. Thus the creative advance, taken as a synthesis between the "old" and the "new," must first of all be envisioned ‘conceptually’ if, as a consequence of this mediation, it is to be realized ‘physically.’ Hence Whitehead conceives the integration of the ‘physical’ datum to be realized through the ‘conceptual valuations’ that adjust the datum to the envisioned ‘subjective aim.’ In this way [236] Whitehead bestows subjectivity and finality upon all instances of process generally, so that in this perspective the question about their higher development is logically reduced to the question of how much they have ‘conceptually’ acquired of this formal causality. That from this ideal basis Whitehead was finally able to account for even the higher forms of experience -- the emergence of consciousness, of the recognition of truth, and of art -- proves the coherence and wide applicability of his theory.

Thus Whitehead sets about interpreting reality as a creative process, and does it with the conceptual tools of the classical metaphysics of spirit that he has fundamentally reinterpreted and generalized. By reason of its ‘mental pole’ every actual entity is spirit and performs spiritual activities that become autonomous in the more highly developed entities, but that are basically found in every actual entity. Thus the dividing line that traditionally separated human beings, as the only living beings endowed with spirit, from the unintelligent creatures of nature turns out in principle to be abolished. The process of every single being is determined by spirit.

It is worth noting here that in the Christian metaphysics of creation too, to which Thomas Aquinas can once again serve as an example, the process of nature is regarded as ultimately determined by spirit and by cognition in virtue of its fundamental goal-directedness.9 But in this tradition it is exclusively the creative spirit of God that as First Cause is operative in creatures and gives direction to their becoming, instead of a spiritual principle belonging to the natural beings themselves. For Whitehead, on the other hand, every creature itself becomes the spiritual subject of its own process of creation. It does not participate as a secondary cause in the spirit of God, but is itself the participating spirit. In consequence of Whitehead’s shift in emphasis on the creative process, every creature must be regarded as autonomously directing its own self-creation. It freely receives from God, and it itself actualizes. the possibility of its own self-identity; it does not carry out a finality imposed upon it (PR 244-5/374-5). [237]

Knowledge and Real Becoming

Thomas Aquinas, who conceives knowledge as the possession of additional forms, puts these on an equal footing with the forms of other beings. This is a consequence of the Aristotelian solution to the problem of form, according to which all forms are basically the forms of primary beings and are encountered as such in knowledge insofar as knowledge is directed to objective reality. For Aristotle as for Thomas this reality is primarily something in the world. Hence "knowledge" above all means "abstraction" of the forms of these things in the world from matter and from its individuating conditions, so as to possess them in their universality. From this relation to what is material it follows that intellectual and sensitive knowledge must be combined, whereby the latter for its part continually bases itself on material processes and continues them. Here, then, material processes, as well as sensitive and mental knowing, are in principle thought of as united in one event -- insofar as the natural science of those days allowed the event to be thought of in that way.10

This anchoring of knowledge in the processes occurring between beings, characteristic as it is of an Aristotelian sort of empirical realism, recurs with added emphasis in Whitehead. He wants to keep to "the old principle" (PR 248/379) that mentality originates from sensitive experience, and therefore he grounds his ‘conceptual’ prehensions in ‘physical’ ones. He generalizes this principle: according to the ‘Category of Conceptual Valuation,’ there is derived from every ‘physical’ prehension a ‘conceptual’ one that only after a complex integration goes on to play a conscious role in the knowing process. According to the ‘Category of Conceptual Reversion’ the ‘mental pole’ can, it is true, acquire more formal determinations than are ‘physically’ provided for it. But even here Whitehead sticks [238] to his realism, for he grounds this surplus of forms in the actual entity’s ‘hybrid,’ and so once again real, prehension of God (PR 246/317).

Whitehead attributes the principle of the origination of conceptual activity from the physical to Hume (PR 250/382). but his criticism of flume’s subjectivism is determinative for his own realism. Here we have to keep in mind the starting point of Whitehead’s philosophy, the ‘reformed subjectivist principle.’ By this principle, what we are confronted with in experience is real objects to which the subject must stand in equally real relations. Whitehead wants to ground his realism through a new ontology. The fundamental categories of his organic philosophy, and especially the key category of prehension, are intended to reproduce on a purely ontological plane the experiential situation as it presents itself to natural awareness as Whitehead finds it depicted by Locke.

In this regard Whitehead deliberately directs his sharpest polemic against the substance-quality model and thereby against the concept of substance found in Aristotle’s Categories, according to which a [primary] entity can not be in another as in its subject. For Whitehead, on the contrary, an [actual] entity has to be regarded as present in another so as to make possible the knowledge of the first by the sound (PR 50/79). This being-in-another, that makes knowledge possible without necessarily leading to it, becomes for Whitehead the fundamental intelligible structure of all actuality whatsoever. The radicality of Whitehead’s initial position is best seen if we go back, for comparison, to the essential definition of knowledge given by Thomas Aquinas. What is there set down as the structural characteristic peculiar to cognizant beings, namely to be able interiorly to be-the-other as well as themselves, for Whitehead is made into a general ontology. Whereas Thomas (Sum. Theol. I, 14, 1), along with Aristotle (De An. III, 8,431b21), says of the spiritual soul (and only of it) that by range of [239] its knowledge it is, "in a way, all things," so Whitehead declares that every actual entity is "a system of all things" (PR 36/53; see also 50/79),

If one takes the grounding of knowledge in the interrelations of real events and structures as an essential characteristic of Aristotelian realism, Whitehead turns out to be the Aristotelian willing to accept all the consequences of this seminal idea in an ontology. For him, as for no realist before him, the theory of knowledge is transformed into, and underpins, an ontology. The unbridgeable chasm that had existed since Descartes between spirit and the world of bodies, between the functions of consciousness and material processes, is eliminated through a unitary ‘theory of prehensions.’ In this theory the ‘physical’ and ‘conceptual’ prehensions are so conceived that they can complement and freely give rise to each other (PR 246/376). But going beyond Descartes, one has to ask whether Whitehead, with his categoreal scheme that equally includes the ‘physical’ and the ‘mental,’ has not closed a gap found as far back as Aristotle between theory of nature and theory of knowledge.

When Whitehead attacks the concept of substance in Aristotle’s Categories he directs his polemic especially against the ‘simple location’ of natural entities, according to which they exist merely at their particular places and without internal relations to one another. True, this criticism is aimed directly at the materialistic mechanism that Whitehead took to be the consequence of an erroneous conception of substance according to which there exist only autonomous, isolated bits of matter. But Aristotle seems also to be a target of Whitehead’s criticism of ‘simple location’ insofar as Aristotle’s theory of place as the boundary of the surface of a body appears to support such a theory (Physics IV, 4, 212a5). According to Aristotle every body excludes every other body from its place, so that only it exists in that place without including within itself others (212b25). This is connected with Aristotle’s idea that material processes occur mainly through touch, through contact with external bodies. The lack of such contact [240] in the higher forms of sense perception finally forces Aristotle and Thomas Aquinas to give up their principle that sensitive-spiritual knowledge is always grounded in corresponding real processes.11

In these questions there is doubtless at work in Aristotle’s mind a concept of bodies that is pragmatically oriented to the world of things, a concept that Whitehead, from the higher vantage point afforded by modem scientific knowledge, is able to dismiss. But if one examines Aristotle’s doctrine on natural processes more closely, the picture changes. For wherever Aristotle allows his own proper concepts and insights, instead of the common concepts of things, to dominate his analysis, he too overcomes ‘simple location’ through a concept of dynamic immanence. So the question arises, in what relation does Whitehead’s process thought stand to the genuine starting principles of Aristotle’s doctrine?

Natural Process as Being in Another

It is well known that Aristotle analyses the processes of nature with the paired concepts potentiality-actuality (Phys. III, 1-3). He conceives such a process as the actualization of a state of potentiality in the object of the process, an actualization that comes about through the influence of the cause of the process (201a10; 202a14). Thus the cause must for its part exhibit the potentiality to cause the process. A state of potentiality belongs therefore to the cause as well as to the object of the process. In the one case it is the potentiality to cause something, in the other the potentiality for a definite actualization to be achieved. But the actualization of the object of the process is itself grounded in the actualization of the activity of the cause of the process. So at the end of this analysis we are faced with the paradox that the actualization of the cause of the process goes on in the object of the process, indeed has to be thought identical with it (202a1 3-21). [241]

Aristotle himself acknowledges the seemingly puzzling nature of this state of affairs. It seems puzzling and out of the ordinary to us because it exactly traverses the ordinary conception according to which a bodily thing is only actual in its own place. Aristotle lays out the difficulties that the ordinary understanding places in the way of his conception: the actualization of the cause of the process seems to be distinct from that of the object of the process, for the one is an effecting, the other a being effected. But if one wants to think of them as two actualizations or two processes, and tries to divide them up between the cause and the object of the process, only then do difficulties really arise and the process of becoming loses its coherence (202a21-35).

So it must be correct after all that the actualization of the cause of the process and of the object of the process is one, just as their process is one. Effecting and being effected can be conceptually distinguished, but in fact they are one in the event (202b11). And now Aristotle explicitly declares that it is by no means absurd to situate the actualization of the cause of the process in the object of the process, to suppose that the actualization of the one is the actualization in the other (202b5). The actuality of the one corresponds to the potentiality of the other, so as to make the actualization of this potentiality a unity (202b8).

Why do we think this important? For one thing because Aristotle here makes clear that conceptual and logical distinctions, like those of his Categories, should not be permitted to conceal real relationships. Thus Aristotle here consistently overcomes the idea of ‘simple location’ and of purely extrinsic mutual activity, so as to conceive of natural beings as truly immanent in each other. What Whitehead conceives as the objectification [242] of an actual entity appears in the Aristotelian conception of process as anticipated in the actualization of one being in another.

Aristotle thinks of such processes as efficient, arising from the cause of the process and terminating in the object of the process. The Scholastics coined a phrase for this: actio transiens. When Whitehead speaks of efficacious processes as transitions (PR 150/227; 210/320) he is using the very same word to express the same state of affairs, even if no direct historical connection of the usage can be demonstrated.

If Whitehead and Aristotle are at one on this decisive point, Whitehead nevertheless puts a great deal more weight on it. For he raises this dynamic immanence to the level of his essential principles and makes his ‘actual entities’ altogether determined by it. In accord with his ‘principle of process’ (PR 23/34), he wants the being of an actual entity to be understood in terms of its becoming, without which it would have no existence. Again, according to the explication of the ‘ontological principle’ (PR 24/36), an ‘actual entity’ constitutionally points back to other actual entities that ground it. Finally, by the ‘principle of relativity’ (PR 22/33) the possibility of itself entering into the process constituting other actual entities is declared to be the one universal characteristic of every being.

One cannot, however, so readily assert of Aristotle that in his concept of process he consistently remains true to the immanence that he therein supposes one being to have in another -- as his theory of place gives witness. Typically he exploits this fundamental principle of immanence only when he is reflecting on a natural being as it relates to its becoming, as he does particularly when considering the causal principle according to which every natural being in a state of becoming refers back to a cause of its becoming (Phys. VIII, 4). The principle emerges again in the analysis of the efficacious power [243] of an entity, a power that Aristotle conceives as the principle of change in another, and correspondingly also as a potentiality belonging to the object of change, the principle of its capacity to be acted upon by another.

Does it follow from this that Aristotle does not consistently bring to its full expression this immanence and interdependence of natural beings precisely because he does not radically enough attend to their process character -- because he does not thoroughly grasp them as process, as Whitehead does? If so, then this must point to the decisive change in the concept of nature by which Whitehead goes beyond Aristotle.

That Aristotle supposedly underestimated the process character of a natural being is a risky opinion considering that he takes becoming to be the hallmark of natural beings (Phys. II, 1; III, 1). For him, too, process is constitutive for the entity itself; he explicitly cites generation as the process constitutive for the entity, and distinguishes it from the processes that effect merely accidental changes in the entity (De Gen. et Corr. I ,4-5),

Now it seems to us that Aristotle’s concept of generation is far less radically thought through than the constitution of a being through its own becoming as expressed in Whitehead’s ‘principle of process.’ For generation marks for Aristotle the beginning of an entity; it is the process that brings an entity into the world with its own character. Thus this concept tends to encourage the idea that once the entity is constituted it is thereafter simply "there," experiencing or exercising purely accidental processes until finally it once again perishes. This illustrates the idea, rejected by Whitehead, of an undifferentiated endurance, of the persistence through time of the entity. Whitehead wants to circumvent this idea with his ‘epochal’ theory of time, according to which an actual entity exists only as long as the timespan of the becoming that constitutes it (PR 308/469f). In Aristotelian language, Whitehead so identifies a being with its process of becoming that he allows it to count as actual solely within the process but not [244] as a being that, once generated, would simply continue to exist. The question now is whether we can further develop this clearly apparent difference and reduce it to fundamental concepts.

The Identification of Being and Process

When Aristotle assigns an exclusive place to every natural being and excludes all others from that place, his concept of a natural being as material is predominantly at work. What fixes a natural being at its place is its matter, with matter’s quantitative, dimensional determinations. This concept recurs in Thomas Aquinas inasmuch as he takes matter determined by quantity to be a material being’s principle of individuation whereby it can be grasped in its individual "thereness."12 On the other hand for Aristotle it is once again matter that gives a natural being its potentiality to ground newly arising beings by enabling it to take on endlessly different forms.13 What Whitehead demands with his ‘principle of relativity’ is furnished in Aristotle by matter as the ground of fundamental changeableness and hence of the process character of natural beings.

Thus Aristotelian matter as principle of individuation is at the same time the principle by reason of which one being can become another.’4 The difference from Whitehead seems to us to lie in this, that for Aristotle matter is an ultimate that always signifies the possibility of change and of process without of itself being something in process. Aristotle thinks of matter as something passive, stable, that does not of itself transform itself into something else. Hence every process occurring within an object requires the efficacy of another cause, and matter altogether requires form, in order to produce something actual and efficacious.

Thus we once again run into the crucial difference, [245] that Whitehead acknowledges no such passive matter that is simply at hand awaiting transformation and actuation, but only an act of becoming that individuates itself in particular beings. For him the boundary concept that ultimately characterizes natural actuality is no longer matter but creativity.

One can gather from this why the dynamic immanence of one entity in another is much more radically conceived by Whitehead than it is by Aristotle. Whitehead’s ‘principle of process,’ his ‘ontological principle,’ and his ‘principle of relativity’ can be regarded as a consistent continuation of Aristotle’s doctrine on becoming as it looks when one suppresses the notion of a passive and static Aristotelian matter. Since Whitehead no longer acknowledges any such matter, there is for him no endurance opposed to process. The actual entity is only process, the outcome of its process, and the beginning of new processes.

Whitehead, like Aristotle, takes process to be the actualization of one thing in another. The actualized Other, by its very constitution, points back to its efficient cause, for it contains an internal relationship to it. Whitehead gives expression to this in his ‘ontological principle’ insofar as he conceives it as the ‘principle of efficient causality’ (PR 24/36).

The analogy with Aristotle’s causal principle is obvious, and it is just as evident why this principle achieves a new finality with Whitehead. For Aristotle the actualizing of matter, not matter itself, points back to another efficient cause. Matter as a principle of receptivity is simply there, without itself displaying any actual internal relationship to another. Such a relationship belongs to matter, or rather to the being constituted by the matter, primarily through the processes taking place within the being, and the relation lasts as actual only as long as such a process continues. Actualized matter as such persists in itself without relations. It is the locus of new potential relations but is not itself the bearer of actual relations. If one thinks of a thing consisting of such matter, without the processes that constitute the thing, one immediately thinks [246] of the notion of ‘simple location’ just as Aristotle described in his concept of place.

For Whitehead, the actual entity is never simply actualized matter, it is always its own process by which it constitutes itself. It is thereby manifest in those relationships that are given with that process and that are intrinsic to it, just as its process is intrinsic to it and constitutes its essence. Thus for Whitehead the causal principle, that for Aristotle is only a principle of becoming and not a principle of being, is raised to the rank of a principle that accounts for the entity’s constitution. The principle has become ontological. The being [Sein] of a natural entity points, as such, to other actual entities causally efficacious within it, since what it is, is just this process grounded in others and not an inert matter within which process takes place.

The abolition of such a matter naturally casts a new light on process itself. When Aristotle conceives process as the actualization of the cause of the process within the object of the process, both the cause and the object of the process are presumed to be already given. In Aristotle’s theory, the categories of action and passion in terms of which the process from the cause to its object is described, are classified as "accidents," determinations that advene to the being and that as such are first listed after the categories of quantity and quality (Cat. 4, 1b25).

That according to Aristotle it is ultimately always matter that is treated as already given, is especially evident in procreation. For here it would of course be absurd to presuppose the being that is the object of the process, since it only arises from that process in the first place. But even here Aristotle presupposes a substrate through which and in which the procreative process takes place. This substrate is a "primary matter," already present under the perishing form, that passes to a new form of being through the influence of the efficient cause (Phys. I,9, 192a31).

Whitehead drops matter, in the sense of that sort of substrate always lying at hand, and so process no longer has the same status as it did for Aristotle. Process no longer takes place [247] within matter but stands as it were on its own and makes up the entirety of its subjects, instead of presupposing a substrate out of which it fashions its subjects. Thus process itself takes on the character of something concrete; it is the very beings constituted by it. True, this conclusion is not novel, for it amounts to the assertion, familiar enough by now, that Whitehead identifies entity with process. But it throws the proper light on Whitehead’s key category of prehension. This proves to be the category by means of which Whitehead thus identifies process, conceived without a material substrate, with the [actual] entity itself.

How similar Whitehead thought [actual] entity and prehension to be is clear especially in the similarity of their structure. According to Whitehead a prehension "reproduces" in itself the general characteristics of an ‘actual entity.’ As an element of an [actual] entity it is structured exactly as is the entity as a whole. Thus prehensions are the most concrete elements that the analysis of an [actual] entity reveals. They individually fulfill what the ‘ontological principle.’ the ‘principle of process,’ and the ‘principle of relativity’ require for an [actual] entity generally (PR 19/28). Only because Whitehead conceives an [actual] entity in terms of its prehensions does he succeed in living up to his claim of giving relation dominance over the Aristotelian category of quality (PR xiii/ix).

Whitehead emphasizes often enough that [actual] entities exist neither before nor apart from their prehensions. Without the prehensions that compose it an [actual] entity dissolves into nothing; it is nothing other than its prehensions. When Whitehead speaks of an [actual] entity as ‘superject,’ he means by this neologism that the [actual] entity really arises out of its prehensions instead of independently preceding them. Often it almost seems as if Whitehead gives precedence to prehension over [actual] entity, as when he drops the remark that a prehension could be taken for a [complete] actuality even though it ultimately makes up only an aspect of the [actual] entity [248] as a subordinate element of its totality. A further indication of the "substantial" role of prehensions lies ultimately in this, that all the qualities of natural reality that Aristotle takes to be grounded in the matter of a natural being are for Whitehead constituted through prehensions. That is true particularly of those qualities connected with nature as a space-time continuum. For Whitehead they have their real ground in the vector-character of physical prehensions, and no longer, as for Aristotle, in the quantitative determinations of a pre-given matter.

The replacement of Aristotelian "matter" with Whiteheadian ‘creativity,’ and the consequent precedence given by the key concept of prehension to the relational over every merely qualitative determination of a being, undoubtedly allows the Whiteheadian [actual] entity to embody process in a more radical sense than does being as conceived by Aristotle. Yet if one compares Aristotle’s analysis of the forms of process with the process of prehension, one can very well ask whether the former would not lead to the latter if it were thought through to the end. Both thinkers begin with a fundamentally analogous concept of entity, and what dominates in the genuine Aristotelian concept of entity is ultimately not matter but the form that gives the entity its determination. Aristotle distinguishes between the processes that proceed from a being’s efficacious power to act on another, and those "natural" processes in which a being actualizes its "nature," that is, its potentiality for being itself in accordance with its form (Met. IX, 8, 1049b5-l0). Whitehead hits upon a similar distinction when he contrasts ‘transitions’ with the intrinsic process of the concrescence (PR 210/320). Thus in the category of prehension we seem to have before us an accurate synthesis of these two forms of process distinguished by Aristotle. Whitehead describes prehension as the process that arises out of given entities and aims at a newly arising entity (PR 151/228). Insofar as the given entities thus function as efficacious causes, prehension is identical with the process of efficient causality described by [249] Aristotle -- in Scholastic terms, with moveri ab alio. But insofar as the prehension is directed to its own aim by the newly arising entity, it corresponds to those processes that Aristotle called "natural," in which "nature" acts as both source and aim of its own activity. In that way prehension comprises that highest form of natural process ascribed by Aristotle to living beings and which Scholasticism conceived as motus sui, as actualization of itself through itself.15 Whitehead matches Aristotle in so many main points not least because both are mainly concerned with living beings and their self-development.

 

Notes

1This a translation of section 3.2 of Fetz, Whitehead: Prozessdenken und Substanznietaphysik (Freiburg/Munchen, Verlag Karl Alber: 1981). A translation of Section 3.1 was published in a previous issue of this journal as "Aristotelian and Whiteheadian Conceptions of Actuality: I." The author has reviewed and corrected the draft of this translation, for which the translator is grateful.

2De An. III, 4 429a27-29.

3Translotor‘s note: Page breaks in the original text are thus indicated in square brackets.

4See De An. III, 4-8; Nic. Eth. X, 7-8.

5Met. XII, 9 1074 b 35.

6See De Trinitate IX, VI, 9 (PL 42, 965f.).

7See S. T. 1, 14, l, etc.

8See S.C. G. II, 47; S. T., 141,26, 1.

9See S.C. G. III, 24; S. T. I-II, 26, 1; 27, 2 ad 3.

10Thomas Aquinas still leaves unresolved the problem of how the higher forms of sense knowledge, especially that of vision, can be grounded in a material process. Compare, perhaps, S. T. I, 78, 3, on the external senses.

11See n. 10 above.

12 See Met. V. 6, 1016b32, and Thomas’s commentary on it; also S. T. III, 77, 2.

13Phys. I, 9; De Gen. et Corr. I, 3.

14Phys. 1, 9; De Gen. et Corr. I, 3.

15See De An. II, I. 412a14; S. T. I, 18, 1; etc.

 

List of Abbreviations

Referring to works of Aristotle:

Cat -- Categories

De An -- De Anima (On the Soul)

De Gen. et Corr. -- De Generatione et Corruptione (On Generation and Corruption)

Met -- Metaphysics

Nic. Eth. -- Nicomochean Ethics

Phys. -- Physics

Referring to works of Thomas Aquinas:

S.C.G. -- Summa contra Gentiles (Summa against Unbelievers)

S.T. -- Summa Theologiae (Summa of Theology)