Peirce How to Make Our Ideas Clear

8/7/2019 Peirce How to Make Our Ideas Clear

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COLLECTEDPAPERSOFCHARLESSANDERSPEIRCEEDITED BY

CHARLES HARTSHORNEAND

PAUL WEISS

VOLUME VPRAGMATISMAND PRAGMATICISM

CHARLES SANDERS PI]IRCtr1839-1914

CAMBRIDGEHARVARD UNIVERSITY1934

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VHOW TO trIAKE OI]R IDEAS CLEAR*

$1. CLEARNESS AND DISTINCTNESSE388. Whoeverhaslookedinto a moderntreatiseon logicof the commonsort,rwill doubtlessrememberthe two distinc-tions betweenclear and obscureconceptions,and betweend,is-t'inctandconfusedconceptions.They havelain in the booksnowfor nigh two centuries,unimproved and unmodif,ed, and aregenerally reckonedby logicians as among the gemsof theirdoctrine.389. A clearidea is definedas onewhich is soapprehendedthat it will be recognizedwhereverit is met with, and so thatno other will be mistakenfor it. If it fails of this clearness,itis said to be obscure.This is rather a neat bit of philosophicalterminologyi yet,sinceit is clearnessthat they weredefining,I wish the logicianshad made their definition a little more plain. Never to fail torecognizean idea, and under no circumstancesto mistakeanother for it, let it come in how recondite a form it may,would indeed imply such prodigious force and clearnessofintellect as is seldom met with in this world. On the otherhand, merely to have such an acquaintancewith the idea asto havebecomefamiliar with it, and to have lost all hesitancyin recognizingit in ordinary cases,hardly seemsto deservethename of clearnessof apprehension,since after all it onlyamounts to a subjective feeling of mastery which may beentirely mistaken. I take it, however,that when the logiciansspeakof t'clearness,"they mean nothing more than such afamiliarity with an idea, sincethey regard the quality as but

t Popular ScienceMonthly, vol. 12, pp. 286-302 (1878); the secondof thepapers on the " Illustrations of the Logic of Science"; with corrections and notesfrom revised versions,one of which was intended as ch. 16 of the " Grand Logic "of 1893 and as Essay IX of the " Search for a Method" of 1893.1 One of the treatises upon logic dating from L'Art, d.ePenser of the PortRoyalists dorvn to very recent times.- 1893.248

HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.390a small merit, which needsto be supplementedby another,which they call disti,nctness.390. A distinctideais definedasonewhichcontainsnothingwhich is not clear. This is technicallanguage;by the contentsof an idea logiciansunderstandwhatever is containedin itsdefinition. So that an ideais distinctlyapprehended,accordingto them,whenwe cangivea precisedefinitionof it, in abstractterms. Here the professionallogiciansleavethe subject; and Iwouldnot havetroubledthe readerwith what they haveto say,if it were not sucha striking exampleof how they have beenslumberingthrough agesof intellectual activity, listlessly dis-regardingthe engineryof modernthought,and neverdreamingof applying its lessonsto the improvement of logic. It is easyto show that the doctrine that familiar use and abstract dis-tinctness make the perfection of apprehensionhas its onlytrue place in philosophieswhich have long been extinct; andit is now time to formulate the method of attaining to a moreperfect clearnessof thought, suchas we seeand admire in thethinkersof our own time.

391. When I)escartesset about the reconstructionof phi-losophy, his first stepwas to (theoretically) permit scepticismand to discardthe practiceof the schoolmenof looking toauthority as the ultimate sourceof truth. 'Ihat done, hesoughta more natural fountain of true principles,and thoughthe found* it in the humanmind; thus passing,in the directestw&y, from the method of authority to that of apriority, asdescribedin my first paper.t Self-consciousnesswas to furnishus with our fundamental truths, and to decide what wasagreeableto reason. But since,evidently, not all ideas aretrue, he was led to note, as the first conditionof infallibility,that they must be clear. The distinction between an ideaseemingclear and really being So, never occurred to him.Trusting to introspection, as he did, even for a knowledgeofexternalthings,why should-hequestionits testimonyin respectto the contentsof our own minds? But then,I suppose,sceingmen,who seemedto be quite clearand positive,holdingoppo-site opinionsupon fundamentalprinciples,he was further ledto say that clearnessof ideasis not sufficient,but that they* "thought he found" originally "professed to find."t See 383. 219

jvin


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5.3927 PRAGMATISM AI\D PRAGMATICISMneed also to be distinct, i.e., to have nothing unclear aboutthem. What he probablymeantby this (for he did not explainhimselfwith precision)was,that they must sustainthe test ofdialectical examination;that they must not only seemclear atthe outset,but that discussionmust neverbe ableto bring tolight points of obscurityconnectedwith them.392. Suchwas the distinctionof Descartes,and one seesthat it was precit.ly on the level of his philosophy. It wassomewhat developed by Leibnitz. This great and singulargeniuswas as remarkablefor what he failed to seeas for whathe saw. That a pieceof mechanismcould not do work per-petually without being fed with power in some form, was athing perfectly apparent to him; yet he did not understandthat the machineryof the mind can only transform knowledge,but neveroriginateit, unlessit be fed with factsof observation.He thus missedthe most essentialpoint of the Cartesianphi-losophy,which is, that to acceptpropositionswhich seemper-fectly evident to us is a thing which, whether it be logical orillogical,we cannothelp doing. Insteadof regardingthe mat-ter in this way,he soughtto reducethe first principlesof scienceto two* classes,those which cannot be denied without self-contradiction, and those which result from the principle ofsufficientreason(of which more anon),* and was apparentlyunawareof the great differencebetweenhis position and thatof Descartes.lSo he revertedto the old trivialitiest of logic;and, above all, abstract definitionsplayed a great part in hisphilosophy. It was quite natural, therefore,that on observingthat the methodof Descarteslaboredunder the difficulty thatwe may seemto ourselvesto have clear apprehensionsof ideaswhich in truth are very hazy, no better remedy occurredtohim than to requirean abstract deflnition of every importantterm. Accordingly, in adopting the distinction of clear andd.i,st'inctnotions, he describedthe latter quality as the clear

* "two. . . anon" original ly"formulaswhich cannot be deniedwithout self-contradiction."1 IIe was, however, above all, one of the minds that grow; while at first hewas an extreme nominalist, like Hobbes, and dabbled in the nonsensical andimpotent Ars magna of Raymond Lully, he subsequently embraced the larvof continuity and other doctrines opposed to nominalism. I speak here of hisearlier views.- 1903.

t Originally "formalities."250

HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.393apprehension of everything contained in the definition; andthe books have ever sincecopied his words.x There is no dangerthat his chimerical scheme will ever again be over-valued.Nothing new can ever be learned by analyzing definitions.Nevertheless,our existing beliefs can be set in order by thisprocess, and order is an essential element of intellectualeconomy, as of every other. It may be acknowleclged,there-fore, that the books are right in making familiarity with anotion the first step toward clearnessof apprchcnsion, ancl thedefining of it the second. But in omitting all mcntion of anyhigher perspicuity of thought, they simply mirror a philosophywhich was explodeda hundred years ago. That much-a


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5.394] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISMyoung man would hardly be persuaded to sacrifice the greaterpart of his thoughts to save the rest; and the muddled headis the least apt to see the necessity of such a sacrifice. Him wecan usually only commiserate, as a person with a congenitaldefect. Time will help him, but intellectual maturity withregard to clearness is apt to* come rather late. This seemstan unfortunate arrangement of Nature, inasmuch as clearnessis of lessuse to a man settled in life, whose errors have in greatmeasure had their eflect, than it would be to one whosepathlayf before him. It is terrible to seehow a single unclear idea,a single forrnula without meaning, lurking in a young man'shead, will sometimesact like an obstruction of inert matter inan artery, hindering the nutrition of the brain, and condemningits victim to pine away in the fullness of his intellectual vigorand in the midst of intellectual plenty. Many a man hascherished for years as his hobby some vague shadow of anidea, too meaninglessto be positively false; he has, neverthe-less, passionately loved it, has made it his companion by dayand by night, and has given to it his strength and his life,leaving all other occupations for its sake, and in short has livedwith it and for it, until it has become, as it were, flesh of hisflesh and bone of his bone; and then he has waked up somebright morning to find it gone, clean vanished away like thebeautiful Melusina of the fable, and the essence of his lifegone with it. I have myself known such a man; and who cantell how many histories of circle-squarers, metaphysicians,astrologers, and what not, may not be told in the old German[French !] story?

$2. THtr PRAGMATIC MAXIME394. The principlesset forth in the first part of this essay$lead, at once,to a method of reaching a clearnessof thoughtofT higher grade than the "distinctness" of the logicians.It was therenoticedll that the action of thought is excited bythe irritation of doubt, and ceaseswhen belief is attained; so

* "is ap t to" not in the original.f "This seems" not in the original, replacing a semicolon.I Originally "lies."$ "part . . . essay" originally "of these papers."1l "a far," followed "of " in the original.ll Originally "We have there found"

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HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR [5.395that the production of belief is the sole function of thought.*All these words, however, are too strong for my purpose. It isas if I had described the phenomena as they appear under amental microscope. Doubt and Belief, as the words are com-monly employed, relate to religious or other grave discussions.But here I use them to designate the starting of any question,no matter how small or how great, and the resolution of it. If,for instance, in a horse-car, I pull out my purse and fnd a fi,ve-cent nickel and five coppers, I decide,while my hand is going tothe purse, in which way I will pay my fare. 'Io call such aquestion Doubt, and my decision Belief, is certainly to usewords very disproportionate to the occasion. 'I'o spcak of sucha doubt as causing an irritation which needs to be appeased,suggests a temper which is uncomfortable to the verge ofinsanity. Yet, looking at the matter minutely, it must beadmitted that, if there is the least hesitation as to whether Ishall pay the five coppers or the nickel (as there will be sure tobe, unless I act from some previously contracted habit in thematter), though irritation is too strong a word, ye t I am cxcitedto such small mental activity as may be necessary to deciclinghow I shall act. Most frequently doubts arise from sornc inde-cision, however momentary, in our action. Sometimesit is notso. I have, for exainple, to wait in a railway-station, ancl topass the time I read the advertisements on the walls. I com-pare the advantages of different trains and different routeswhich I never expect to take, merely fancying myself to be in astate of hesitancy, becauseI am bored with having nothing totrouble me. Feigned hesitancy, whether feigned for mereamusement or with a lofty purpose, plays a great part in theproduction of scientific inquiry. However the doubt rnay orig-inate, it stimulates the mind to an activity which miuy bc slightor energetic, calm or turbulent. Images pass rapi


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5.396] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISN,Iclear by means of an illustration. In a piece of music there arethe separatenotes, and there is the air. A single tone may beprolonged for an hour or a day, and it exists as perfectly in eachsecond of that time as in the whole taken together; so that, aslong as it is sounding, it might be present to a sensefrom whicheverything in the past was as completely absent as the futureitself. But it is different with the air, the perfonnanceof whichoccupies a certain time, during the portions of which only por-tions of it are played. It consistsin an orderliness in the suc-cessionof soundsrvhich strike the ear at different times; and toperceive it there must be some continuity of consciousnesswhich makes the events of a lapse of time present to us. Wecertainly only perceive the air by hearing the separate notes;ye t we cannot be said to directly hear it, for we hear only whatis present at the instant, and an orderliness of successioncan-not exist in an instant. These two sortsof objects,what we areintmediately conscious of and what we are med'i,atelyconsciousof, are found in all consciousness. Some elements (the sensa-tions) are completely present at every instant so long as theylast, while others (like thought) are actions having beginning,middle, and end, and consist in a congruence in the successionof sensations which flow through the mind. They cannot beimmediately present to us, but must cover some portion of thepast or future. Thought is a thread of melody running throughthe successionof our sensations.

396. We may add that just as a piece of music may bewritten in parts, each part having its own air, so various sys-tems of relationship of successionsubsist together between thesame sensations. These dif{erent systems are distinguished byhaving different motives, ideas, or functions. Thought is onlyone such system, for its sole motive, idea, and function is toproduce belief, and whatever does not concern that purposebelongs to some other system of relations. The action of think-ing may incidentally have other results; it may serve to amuseus, for example, and among d.ilettanti it is not rare to find thosewho have so perverted thought to the purposes of pleasure thatit seemsto vex them to think that the questions upon whichthey delight to exercise it may ever get finally settled; and apositive discovery which takes a favorite subject out of thearena of literary debate is met with ill-concealed dislike. This

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HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.397disposition is the very debauchery of thought. But the souland meaning of thought, abstracted from the other elementswhich accompany it, though it may be voluntarily thwarted,can never be made to direct itself towarcl anything but the pro-duction of belief. Thought in action has for its only possiblemotive the attainment of thought at rest; anrl whatever doesno t refer to belief is no part of the thought itsclf.

397. And what, then, is bel ief? I t is thc


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5.399] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISMpitfalls of which we ought constantly to beware,especiallywhenwe areupon metaphysicalground. One singulardecep-tion of this sort,which oftenoccurs,is to mistakethe sensation

Fig. 1 Fig.2producedby our own unclearnessof thought for a characterofthe object we are thinking. Instead of perceiving that theobscurity is purely subjective,we fancy that we contemplateaquality of the objectwhich is essentiallymysterious;and if ourconceptionbe afterward presentedto us in a clear form we donot recognizeit asthe same,owing to the absenceof the feelingof unintelligibility. so longasthis deceptionlasts,it obviouslyputs an impassablebarrier in the way of perspicuousthinking;so that it equallyintereststhe opponentsof rational thought toperpetuateit, and its adherentsto guard againstit.399. Anothersuchdeceptionis to mistakea meredifferencein the grammaticalconstructionof two words for a distinctionbetweenthe ideasthey express.In this pedanticage,whenthegeneralmob of writers attend so much more to words than tothings, this error is common enough. When I just said thatthought is an action,and that it consistsin a relation,althougha personperformsan actionbut not a relation,which canonlybe the result of an action, yet there was no inconsistencyinwhat I said,but only a grammaticalvagueness.400. From all thesesophismswe shall be perfectly safesoIongaswe reflectthat the whole function of thought is to pro-duce habits of action; and that whateverthere is connectedwith a thought,but irrelevantto its pulpose,is an accretionto

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HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.401it, but no part of it. If there be a unity among our sensationswhich has no reference to how we shall act on a given occasion,as when we listen to a piece of music, why wc do not call thatthinking. To develop its meaning, we havc, thcrcforc, simply todetermine what habits it produces, for what a thing means issimply what habits it involves. Now, the identity of a habitdependson how it might lead us to act, no t mcrcly under suchcircumstances as are likely to arise, but undcr such as mightpossibly occur, no matter how improbable thcy rnay be.*What the habit is dependson when and how it causcstts to act.As for the when, every stimulus to action is dcrivctl from per-ception; as for the how, every purpose of action is to ltroducesome sensibleresult. Thus, we come down to what is tangibleandt conceivablyt practical, as the root of every rcal


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5.402] PRAGMATISNIAND PRAGMATICISMeffects,direct or indirect,uponour senses;and to talk of some-thing ashaving all the ,.rrtibl. charactersof wine,yet beinginr.alty blood, is senselessjargon. Now, it is not my object toilrr* the theologicalqrr"rtiorr;and havingusedit as a logicali."-pf. I drop itlwithout caringto anticipate.thetheologian's;;iy: I only desireto point out how impossibleit is that west o.,tahaveln ideain our mindswhich relatesto anythingbutconceivedsensibleeffectsof things. our ideaof anythingasourideaof its sensibleeffects;and if we fancy that we haveanyother we deceive ourselves,and mistake a mere sensationaccompanyingthe thought for a part of the thought itself. .Itis absurdto say that thJught has any meaning-unrelatedto itsonly function. It is foolish for catholics and Protestants toiurriy themselvesin disagreementabout the elementsof the*u.ru*.rrt, if they agreein regard to all their sensibleeffects,hereand* hereafter.t402. I tappears , then, that theru le fora t ta in ingthethi rdgradeof cleaines,oi uppr.h."-r1o"is as follows:considerwhat;ff;;;r, that{ might conceivablyhave practical bearings,weconceivethe object of our conceptionto have. Then, our con-ceptionof theseeffectsis the whole of our conceptionof theobject.r,2'3

* Originally "or."t c f . 541 .f OriginallY "which'"r Longadd i t i onre fu t i ngwhatcomesnex t '_1903. [Th i sseemstore fe r t o

t he fo l l ow i ng ,wh i chwaswr i t ten tenyearsear l i e ronad i f i e ren t sheet. ]2 Before we undertake to apply this rule, let us reflect a little upon what itimplies. It has been said to be a sceptical and materialistic principle' But itis only an application of the sole priniiple of logic-which was recommended byJesus; ,,ye may know them by their iruits," and it is very intimately alliedwith the ideas of the gospei. we must certainly guard ourselves against under-standing this rule in fo lndividualistic a sense. To say that man accomplishesnothing but that to which his endeavors are directed would be a cruel condem-nation of the great bulk of mankind, who never have leisure to labor for any-thing but the necessitiesof life for themselvesand their families' But' withoutdirectly striving io, it, far less comprehending it, they perform all that civiliza-tion requir.,, u,.d b,i.,g forth u,'oth., generation to ad'vance history anotherstep. Their fruit is, th"erefore, collective; it is the achievement of the wholep.opr". what is ii,'th"n, that the whole people is about,-what is this civiliza-tion that is the outcome of history, but is never completed? We cannot expectto attain a completeconception oi it; brrt we can see that it is a gradual process'that it involves a realization of ideas in man's consciousnessand in his works'

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HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR 15.403$3. SOME APPLTCATIONSOF THE PRAGMATIC MAXIME

403. Let us illustrate this rule by someexamples;and, tobeginwith the simplestonepossible,Iet us ask rvhat we meanby callinga thing hard. Evidently that it will not be scratchedby many other substances.The wholeconceptionof this qual-and that it takes place by virtue of man's capacity for learning, lttrrl by cxperi-ence continually pouring upon him ideashe has not yet ac


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5.403] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISMity, as of every other, lies in its conceivedeffects. There isabsolutely,ro diff.r.nce betweena hard thing and a soft thingso long as they are not brought to the test. suppose,then,that a.-ctia*o.tdcouldbe crystallizedin the midstof a cushionofsoft cotton,and shouldremainthereuntil it was finally burnedup. Would it be falseto say that that diamondwas soft? This,..-, a foolishquestion,and would be so, in fact, exceptin therealm of logic. There suchquestionsare often of the greatestutility as sJrvingto bring logicalprinciplesinto sharperreliefthan realdiscuttiotttevercould. In studyinglogicwe must notput them asidewith hasty answers'but must considerthem*itt attentive care, in oider to make out the principles in-volved. we may, in the presentcase,modify our question,andask what pr.r.rit us from sayingthat all hard bodiesremainobviously would not bear detailed application. I only mention it to show thatthe susplcion I myself expressed (Baldwin's Dictionary Article, Pragmotism)lsee B] oft". u too hasty iereading of the forgotten magazine paper' that it"*p.".r"d a stoic, that is, a nominalistic, materialistic,

and utterly philistinestate of thought, was quite mistaken'

No doubt, Pragmaticism [see414] makes thought ultimately apply to actionexclusively - to conceived,action. But between admitting that and either sayingthat it *uk., thought, in the senseof the purport of symbols, to consist in acts,or saying that the true ultimate purpose of thinking is action, there is much thesame difference as there is between saying that the artist-painter's living art isapplied to dabbing paint upon canvas, and saying that that art-life consists indabbing paint, or that its ultimate aim is dabbing paint. Pragmaticism makesthinkinglo consist in the living inferential metaboly of symbols whose purportlies in londitional general resolutions to act. As for the ultimate purpose ofthought, which must be the purpose of everything, it is beyond human compre-hension; but according to the ,1age of approach which my thought has madeto it - with aid from many persons, anlong whom I may mention Royce (inhisWorld and.Ind.ipid.roi;,Schitter (in his Rid.d,tesoJ the Sphinr) as well, by theway, as the famous poet [Frieclrich schiller] (in his AesthetischeBriefe), Henrylames the elder (in his Substanceand'Shod.owand in his conversations), togetherwith Swedenborg himself - it is by the indefinite replication of self-controlupon self-control that the air is begotten, and by action, through thought' heg.o*. an esthetic ideal, not for the behoof of his own poor noddle merely, but asthe rhare which God permits him to have in the rvork of creation.

This ideal, by modiiying the rules of self-control modifies action, and so experi-ence too - both the man's own and that of others, and this centrifugal move-ment thus rebounds in a new centripetal movement, and so on; and the whole isa bit of what has been going on, we may presume, for a time in comparison withwhich the sum of the geological agesis as the surfaceof an electron in comparisonwith that of a planet.- From "consequences of Pragmaticism," 1906.

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HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.403perfectly soft until they are touched, when their hardness in-creaseswith the pressure until they are scratched. Reflectionwill show that the reply is this: there would be no f alsity insuch modes of speech. They would involve a modification ofour present usageof speechwith regard to the words hard andsoft, but not of their meanings. For they represent no fact tobe different from what it is; only they involve arrangementsof facts which would be exceedingly maladroit.* 'I'his leads usto remark that the question of what would occur under cir-cumstances which do not actually arise is not a qucstion offact, but only of the most perspicuous arrangcmcnt of them.For example, the question of free-will and fatc in its simplestform, stripped of verbiage, is something like this: I have donesomething of which I am ashamed; could I, by an clfort of thewill, have resisted the temptation, and done othcrwisc? Thephilosophical reply is, that this is not a question of fact, butonly of the arrangement of facts.t Arranging thcm so as toexhibit what is particularly pertinent to n)y rlucstion -namely, that I ought to blame myself for having rlonc wrong -it is perfect ly true to sa y that, if I ha d wil lc


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5.404] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISMeasycase. To say that a body is heavy meanssimply that, inthe absenceof opposingforce,it will fall. This (neglectingcer-tain specificationsof how it will fall, etc., which exist in themind of the physicist who usesthe word) is evidently the wholeconceptionof weight. It is a fair questionwhethersomepar-ticular facts may not accountfor gravity; but what we meanby the force itself is completelyinvolved in its effects.

404. This leadsus to undertakean accountof the idea ofForcein general. This is the greatconceptionwhich, developedin the earlypart of the seventeenthcentury from the rude ideaof a cause,and constantly improvedupon since,has shownushow to explain all the changesof motion which bodiesexperi-ence,and how to think about all physicalphenomena;whichhas given birth to modern science,and changedthe faceof theglobe; and which, asidefrom its more specialuses,has playeda principal part in directingthe courseof modernthought, andin furthering modern social development. It is, therefore,worth somepains to comprehendit. Accordingto our rule,wemust begin by asking what is the immediateuse of thinkingabout force;and the answeris, that we thusaccountfor changesof motion. If bodieswere left to themselves,without the inter-vention of forces,every motion would continue unchangedboth in velocity and in direction. Furthermore, changeofrnotion never takesplace abruptly; if its direction is changed,it is alwaysthrougha curvewithout angles;if its velocity alters,it is by degrees. The gradual changeswhich are constantlytaking place are conceivedby geometersto be compoundedtogetheraccordingto the ruIesof the parallelogramof forces.If the readerdoesnot alreadyknow what this is, he will find it,I hope, to his advantageto endeavorto follow the followingexplanation;but if mathematicsare insupportableto him, praylet him skip threeparagraphsrather than that we shouldpartcompanyhere.A path is a line whosebeginningand end are distinguished.Two paths are consideredto be equivalent,which, beginningat the samepoint, Ieadto the samepoint. Thus the two paths,A B C D E and .4 F G H E (Fig. 3) , are equivalent. Pathswhich do not begin at the samepoint are consideredto beequivalent,provided that, on moving either of them withoutturning it, but keepingit alwaysparallelto its originalposition,

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HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR 15.401when its beginningcoincideswith that of the other path, theends also coincide. Paths are consideredas geometricallyaddedtogether,when one beginswherethe other ends;thus

Fig. 3

the path A Eis conceived to be a sum of. A B, B C, C D, andD E. In the parallelogram of Fig. 4 the diagonal .21Cl is thesum of A B and B C;or, sinceA D is geometrically equivalentto B C, A C is the geometrical sum of.A B and A D.Al l this is purely conventional. It simply amounts to this:that we choose to call paths having the relations I havc de-scribed equal or added. But, though it is a convcntion, it is aconvention with a good reason. The rule for gcomctrical arlcli-tion may be applied not only to paths, but to any othcr thingswhich can be representedby paths. Now, as a ptth is tlcter-mined by the varying direction and distanceof thc point whichmoves over it from the starting-point, it follows that anythingwhich from its beginning to its end is determincd by ervaryingdirection and a varying magnitude is capable of bcing repre-sented by a line. Accordin gly, ael,ocitiesmay be rcprcsentctl bylines, for they have only directions and rates. 'I 'hc sanrc thingis true of.accelerations,or changesof velocities. 'I'his is cvidcntenough in the case of velocities; and it becomcs cvi


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5.4A4 PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISMsa,y,sucha changein the motion of a body that at the end ofone secondthe body will, under the influenceof that change,be in a position different from what it would have had if itsmotion had continuedun-changedsuch that a pathequivalent to A B wouldB lead from the latter posi-

tion to the former. Thisaccelerationmay be con-sideredas the sum of theaccelerationsrepresentedb v A C a n d C B . I t m a valso be consideredas the sum of the very different accelera-tions representedby A D and D B, where A D is almost theoppositeof .A C. And it is clear that there is an immensevariety of ways in which A B might be resolvedinto the sumof two accelerations.After this tedious explanation,which I hope, in view of theextraordinaryinterest of the conceptionof force,r&y not haveexhaustedthe reader'spatience,we are prepared at last tostate the grand fact which this conception embodies. Thisfact is that if the actual changesof motion which the differentparticles of bodies experienceare eachresolvedin its appro-priate w&y, eachcomponentaccelerationis preciselysuchas isprescribedby a certain law of Nature, according to whichbodies, in the relative positionswhich the bodies in questionactually have at the moment,l always receivecertainaccelera-tions, which, being compoundedby geometricaladdition, givethe accelerationwhich the body actually experiences.This is the only fact which the idea of force represents,andwhoever will take the trouble clearly to apprehendwhat thisfact is,perfectlycomprehendswhat forceis. Whetherwe oughtto say that a forceasan acceleration,or that it causesan accel-eration, is a merequestionof propriety of language,which hasno moreto dowith our real meaningthan the differencebetweenthe French idiom "Il Taitflroid" and its trnglish equivalent" Itis cold." Yet it is surprisingto seehow this simpleaffair hasmuddledmen'sminds. In how many profoundtreatisesis notforcespokenof as a "mysteriousentity," which seemsto be

I Possibly the velocities also have to be taken into account.264

Fig. 5

HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.405only a way of confessingthat the author despairs of ever get-ting a clear notion of what the word means! In a recent ad-mired work on Analytic Mechanics* it is stated that we under-stand precisely the effect of force, but what force itself is we donot understand ! This is simply a self-contradiction. The ideawhich the word force excites in our minds has no other functionthan to affect our actions, and these actions can have no refer-ence to forceotherwise than through its effects. Consequently,if we know what the effectsof force are,we are acquainted withevery fact which is implied in saying that a force cxists, andthere is nothing more to know. The truth is, thcrc is somevague notion afloat that a question may mean somethingwhich the mind cannot conceive; and when somehair-splittingphilosophers have been confronted with the absurdity of sucha view, they have invented an empty distinction betwcen posi-tive and negative conceptions, in the attempt to give theirnon-idea a form not obviously nonsensical. Thc nullity of it issufficiently plain from the considerations given a fcw p&gesback; and, apart from those considerations,the quibbling char-acter of the distinction must have struck cvcrv mincl accus-tomed to real thinking.

$4. REALITYE405. Let us now approach the subject of logic, anrl con-sider a conception which particularly concerns it, that of rcol-ity. Taking clearnessin the senseof familiarity, no irlea couldbe clearer than this. Every child usesit with perfect conliclcnce,never dreaming that he does not understand it. As for clcar-ness in its second grade, however, it would probably puzzlemost men, even among those of a reflective turn of minrl, togive an abstract definition of the real. Yet such a


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5.406] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGN{ATICISMthosecharactersto be. Thus, a dreamhas a real existenceas amentalphenomenon,if somebodyhas really dreamt it; that hedreamt so and so, doesnot dependon what anybody thinkswas dreamt,but is completelyindependentof all opinion on thesubject. On the otherhand,considering,not the fact of dream-ing,but the thing dreamt,it retainsits peculiaritiesby virtue ofno other fact than that it was dreamt to possessthem. Thuswe may definethe real as that whosecharactersare independ-ent of what anybody may think them to be.406. But, however satisfactory such a definition may befound, it would bea greatmistake to supposethat it makestheidea of reality perfectly clear. Here, then, let us apply ourrules. According to them, reality, like every other quality,consistsin the peculiarsensibleefiectswhich thingspartakingof it produce. The only eflect which real things have is tocausebelief,for all the sensationswhich they exciteemergeintoconsciousnessin the form of beliefs. The questionthereforeis, how is true belief (or belief in the real) distinguishedfromfalse belief (or belief in fiction). Now, as we have seenin theformer paper,* the ideasof truth and falsehood,in their fulldevelopment,appertainexclusivelyto the experientialtmethodof settlingopinion. A personwho arbitrarily choosesthe prop-ositions which he will adopt can use the word truth only toemphasizethe expressionof his determinationto hold on tohis choice. Of course,the method of tenacityf never prevailedexclusively;reasonis too natural to men for that. But in theliterature of the dark ageswe find some fine examplesof it.When ScotusErigena is commentingupon a poetical passagein which helleboreis spokenof as having causedthe death ofSocrates,he doesnot hesitate to inform the inquiring readerthat Helleborus and Socrateswere two eminent Greek phi-losophers,and that the latter, having beenovercomein argu-ment by the former, took the matter to heart and died of it!What sort of an idea of truth could a man have who couldadopt and teach, without the qualification of a perhaps, anopinion taken so entirely at random? The real spirit of Soc-rates, who I hope would have been delighted to have been

* In 385.f Originaily "scientific.'fI See377f.

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HO\,V TO IVIAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR i5.406"overcome in argument," because he would have learnedsomething by it, is in curious contrast with the naive idea of theglossist, for whom (as for "the born missionary" of today)*discussion would seem to have been simply a struggle. Whenphilosophy began to awake from its long slumber, and beforetheology compietely dominated it, the practice seemsto havebeen for each professor to seize upon any philosophical posi-tion he found unoccupied and which seemeda strong one, tointrench himself in it, and to sally forth from time to time togive battle to the others. Thus, even the scanty rccords wepossessof those disputes enableus to make out a


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5.407) PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICISMfn contentingthemselveswith fixing their own opinions by amethod which would lead another man to a different result,they betray their feeblehold of the conceptionof what truth is.407. On the other hand, all the followersof scienceareanimatedby u cheerfulhope* that the processesof investiga-tion, if onlypushedfar enough,will giveonecertainsolutiontoeachtquestionto which they apply itf . Oneman may investi-gate the velocity of light by studying the transits of Venusandthe aberrationof the stars;anotherby the oppositionsof Marsand the eclipsesof Jupiter'ssatellites;a third by the methodofFizeau;a fourth by that of Foucault;a flfth by the motionsofthe curvesof Lissajoux;a sixth, a seventh,an eighth,and aninth, may follow the different methods of comparing themeasuresof statical and dynamical electricity. They may atfirst obtain differentresults,but, as eachperfectshis methodand his processes,the results are found to move$ steadilytogethertoward a destinedcentre. So with all scientificre-search.Differentmindsmay setout with the most antagonisticviews,but the progressof investigationcarriesthem by a forceoutsideof themselvesto one and the sameconclusion.Thisactivity of thought by whichwe arecarried,not wherewe wish,but to a fore-ordainedgoal,is like the operationof destiny.Nomodificationof the point of view taken,no selectionof otherfactsfor study,no natural bent of mind even,canenablea manto escapethe predestinateopinion. This great hopeJfis em-bodied in the conceptionof truth and reality. The opinionwhichis fatedlto be ultimatelyagreedto by al l who investigate,is what we mean by the truth, and the object representedinthis opinionis thereal. That is the way I wouldexplainreality.408. But it may be said that this view is directlyopposedto the abstractdefinitionwhich we havegivenof reality, inas-much as it makes the charactersof the real dependon what is

* "are. . . hope" originally "are fully persuaded."t Originally "every."* "apply it" originally "can be applied." .$ "are . . . move" originally "will move."t[ Originally "law."r Fate means merely that which is sure to come true, and can nohow be

avoided. It is a superstition to suppose that a certain sort of events are everfated, and it is another to supposethat the word fate can never be freed from itssuperstitious taint. We are all fated to die.

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HOW TO MAKE OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.409ultimately thought about them. But the answer to this isthat, on the one hand, reality is independent, not necessarilyof thought in general, but only of what you or I or any finitenumber of men may think about it; and that, on the otherhand, though the object of the final opinion depends on whatthat opinion is , ye t what that opinion is does not depend onwhat you or I or any man thinks. Our perversity and that ofothers may indeflnitely postpone the settlement of opinion; itmight even conceivably cause an arbitrary proposition to beuniversally accepted as long as the human race should last.Yet even that would no t change the nature of the belicf, whichalone could be the result of investigation carriecl sullicientlyfar; and if, after fhe extinction of our race,anothcr should arisewith faculties and disposition for investigation, that trueopinion must be the one which they would ultimatcly come to."Truth crushed to earth shall rise again," an{l the opinionwhich would finally result from investigation does not dependon how anybody may actually think. But the reality of thatwhich is real does depend on the real fact that investigation isdestined to lead, at last, if continued long enough, to a l-rcliefin i t .409. But I may be asked what I havc to say to al l theminute facts of history, forgotten never to bc rccovcrc(I, to theIost books of the ancients, to the buried secrcts.

"Full many a gem of purest ray sereneThe dark, unfathomed caves of ocean bcar;Full many a flower is born to blush unscen,And waste i ts sweetnesson th e desertair."Do these things not really exist because thcy are hopclcsslybeyond the reach of our knowledge? And then, aftcr thc uni-verse is dead (according to the prediction of somc scicntists),and all life has ceasedforever, will not the shock of atoms con-tinue though there will be no mind to know it? 'Ib this I rcpll'that, though in no possiblestate of knowledge can any numberbe great enough to expressthe relation betwcctt thc amount ofwhat rests unknown to the amount of the known, yet it isunphilosophical to suppose that, with regard to any given ques-tion (which has any clear meaning), investigation would notbring forth a solution of it, if it were carried far enough. Who

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5.410] PRAGMATISM AND PRAGMATICIS},Iwould have said, a few years ago, that we could ever know ofwhat substances stars are made whose light may have beenlonger in reaching us than the human race has existed? Whocan be sure of rvhat we shall not know in a few hundred years?Who can guesswhat would be the result of continuing the pur-suit of sciencefor ten thousand years, with the activity of thelast hundred? And if it were to go on for a million, or a billion,or any number of years you please, how is it possible to saythat there is any question which might no t ultimately besolved?But it mav be objected, "Why make so much of theseremoteconsiderations, especially when it is your principle that onlypractical distinctions have a meaning?" Well, I must confessthat it makes very little difference whether we say that a stoneon the bottom of the ocean, in complete darkness, is brilliantor not - that is to say, that it probably makes no difference,remembering always that that stone rnorybe flshed up tomor-row. But that there are gems at the bottom of the sea,florversin the untraveled desert, etc., are propositions which, like thatabout a diamond being hard when it is no t pressed,concernmuch more the arrangement of our language than they do themeaning of our ideas.

410. It seemsto me, however, that we have, by the appli-cation of our rule, reached so clear an apprehension of what wemean by reality, and of the fact which the idea rests on, thatwe should not, perhaps, be making a pretension so presumptu-ous as it would be singular, if we were to offer a metaphysicaltheory of existencefor universal acceptanceamong those whoemploy the scientific method of fixing belief. However, asmetaphysics is a subject much more curious than useful, theknowledge of which, like that of a sunken reef, serves chieflyto enableus to keep clearof it, I will not trouble the readerwithany more Ontology at this moment. I have already been ledmuch further into that path than I should have desired; and Ihave given the reader such a dose of mathematics, psychology,and all that is most abstruse, that I fear he may already haveleft me, and that what I am now writing is for the compositorand proof-reader exclusively. I trusted to the importance ofthe subject. There is no royal road to logic, and really valuableideas can onlv be had at the price of close attention. Bu t I

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HOW TO }fAI(E OUR IDEAS CLEAR t5.410know that in the matter of ideasthe public prefer the cheapand nasty; and in my next paper* I am goingto return to theeasily intelligible, and not wander from it again. The readerwho hasbeenat the painsof wading through this paper,shallbe rewardedin the next one by seeinghow beautifully whathas beendevelopedin this tediousway can be appliedto theascertainmentof the rulesof scientificreasoning.

We have, hitherto, not crossedthe threshold of scientificlogic. rt is certainly important to know how to makeour ideasclear,but they may be ever soclearwithout beingtrue. Howto makethem so,we havenext to study. How to give birth tothosevital and procreativeideaswhich multiply into a thou-sand forms and diffuse themselveseverywhere,advancingcivilization and making the dignity of man, is an art not yetreducedto rules,but of the secretof whichthe historvof scienceaffordssomehints.

271* Seevol.2, bk. III, ch.6.

Peirce How to Make Our Ideas Clear

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