SARTRE ON IMAGINATION

Milton Snoeyenbos and Elsa Sibley Georgia State University

With the revival of interest in the concept of imagination, Sartre’s theory has become a focus of critical discussion. However, assessments of his account by analytic philosophers generally rest on an inadequate understanding of Sartre’s position. In part 1 of this paper, we offer an analytic explication of the theory presented in The Psychology of Imagination.’ This enables us to turn aside several standard criticisms of Sartre’s theory in part 11. In part 111, we point out the advantages his theory has over its contemporary competitors.

1

Sartre consistently maintains that there are no mental images and, a fortiori, that it is a mistake to claim either that an image is in consciousness or that the imagined object is in an image. He labels such a mistake “the illusion of immanence” (p. 5) . Although he uses “image” extensively, it is with the understanding that it is to be regarded as eliminable in favor of “imagining” or “imaginative consciousness” (p. 8).

Rather than regarding imagining Peter as consciousness of a special mental image of Peter, Sartre claims it is a special consciousness of Peter himself. He argues that there are four characteristics of imaginative consciousness. First, imagining an object involves a “relation of consciousness to the object . . . a certain manner in which the object makes its appearance to consciousness” (p. 8). All consciousness is intentional; an instance of consciousness is of something. The intentional structure of imaginative consciousness incorporates the thought of the object imagined; my imagining Peter entails that 1 am thinking of him (pp. 13,8 1,85, 137, 160). However, this type of thought is unlike that involved in abstract conceptualization, in which I merely conjoin the thought of certain properties, e.g., being a man, being the second son of Paul, etc. In imagination, thought assumes an individualized, intuitive form: “Thought takes the image form when it wishes to be intuitive, when it wants to ground its affirmations on the vision of an object” (p. 174).

Of course, the “vision” involved in imagining (i.e., visualizing) is not a ~

Milton Snoe.wnhos obtained his Ph. L). in philosoph>./ront Minnesota i n 1975. and is an Assistanr Professor in philosophy ar Georgia Stare. HE has arricles appearing in recent volumes of: The Southern Journal of Philosophy, Inquiry. Metaphilosophy. Philosophical Forum, N o k . Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, British Journal of Aesthetics, The Personalist, Journal of Aesthetic Education, Zeitschrift fur Aesthetik und Kunstwissenschaft. ITA-Humanidader. Teaching Philosophy, Journal of Value Inquiry, and International Philosophical Quarterly.

Elsa Sibley is a graduare srudent in philosophv at GE(JrgiU State Uniwr.\it>..

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species of perception. The concept of seeing is in part based on the externality of perceived objects, but the imagined absent Peter is not seen, and there are no centaurs to be seen. To claim that imagining involves seeing some object requires the introduction of a mental object, which reintroduces the illusion of immanence. Thus, a second feature of imagining is that it involves the thought that one is perceiving the imagined object when it is not present. Sartre calls this “the phenomenon of quasi-observation’’ (pp. 8-14). Since imagining involves quasi-observation, it cannot provide a basis for knowledge about an object: “the image teaches nothing. . . . I shall never find anything in it but what I put there . . . . nothing can be learned from an image that is not already known” (pp. 10-12). For Sartre, perception is the basis of empirical knowledge; one typically acquires knowledge of how Peter looks by looking at him. Imagining Peter is one of a number of ways of making use of perceptually derived knowledge about him.

Since an imagined object is not present, it is posited under a mode of negation. Whereas perception posits its object as existent, imagination regards its object as either absent, non-existent, existing elsewhere, or as neutral with respect to existence (p. 16). For example, Peter in Berlin is imagined as absent, while a red centaur is imagined as non-existent. Negation is a third characteristic of imagining, and Sartre stresses that it is constitutive of imagining itself, and neither superimposed upon nor conjoined with a mental image.

Finally, Sartre notes that whereas perception is passive and controlled by the presented object, imagination is active, spontaneous, and may be subject to the will. I can choose to imagine, but cannot choose to perceive, a red centaur. The spontaneity of imaginative consciousness rests on the fact that it incorporates the thought of the object imagined. In rapid succession 1 can imagine a red centaur, then Peter, then Napoleon, and “I produce them spontaneously, because f think of them” (p. 178).

Having delineated the essential features of imaginative consciousness, Sartre then clarifies the intuitive form that thought takes in the imaginative mode. He claims that imagination intends its object by means of an analogue, which serves as an equivalent of the absent or non-existent object.

There are two sorts of material for an analogue, physical and mental. A picture, construed as lines and colors spatially arranged, can serve as physical material for an analogue; feelings and kinaesthetic sensations can serve as mental material for an analogue (p. 26). In either case, the materialfor an analogue is distinct from the analogue itself. The picture is a physical object which can be perceived, and which may bear a structural resemblance to Peter. An analogue is thought-constituted, intentional, and cannot resemble its intentional object (pp. 27-39). Hence, there is a distinction between the picture as a complex of lines and, in Sartre’s words, the “picture of Peter.” The former is an object of perception, the latter a thought-constituted analogue of imagination:

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. , . an external object functioning as an image cannot exercise that function without an intention which interprets it as such. If someone suddenly shows me a photo of Peter. . . . As a perception, the photograph is but a paper rectangle of a special quality and color. with shadows and white spots distributed in a certain fashion. If that photographappears to me t o be the “photo of a man standing on a pedestal,” the mental phenomenon is necessarily already of a different structure: another intention animates it. And if that photo seems to me to be the photo “of Peter,”. . . . If I see Peter by means of the photo it is because I pur him rhere. And how could I have put him there if not by a particular intention? (pp. 24-5).

I look at a portrait of Peter. Through the photo I envision Peter in his physical individuality. The photo is no longer the concrete object which gives me the perception; it serves as material for the image (p. 27).

[ I want the face of Peter to appear a s a perception] My intention is here now; I say: “This is a portrait of Peter” or. more briefly: “This is Peter.” Then the picture is no longer an object; but operates as material for an image. The entreaty to perceive Peter has not disappeared, but it has entered into the imagined synthesis. It is really the entreaty that functions as analogue and it is because of it that my intention is directed to Peter (p. 30).

Thus, the material for an analogue, the analogue, and the intentional object of an imaginative act are distinct. In this example the material is a physical picture, the analogue is essentially thought-constituted, and it is of Peter, i.e., the thought intends Peter.

Sartre claims that belief (or knowledge) is essential to an analogue. He distinguishes pure belief involving consciousness of abstract relations (p. 83), from intuitive or imaginative belief which is perceptually derived and which envisions the “substantial qualities of things” (p. 96). For example, the absent Peter is visualized concretely as being tall, white, and having a moustache (pp. 8 1, 160). Similarly, a visualized centaur is visualized as being a certain color. Of course, the truth of an intentional ascription about a centaur does not entail the truth of a statement asserting the existence of centaurs. And a description of an intentional object is a function of what the person believes to be the features of the object. Thus, for Sartre, “one of the essential features of the imaginative consciousness . . . [is] belief. This belief envisions the object of the image” (p. 125). I t is experiential belief, i.e., belief previously grounded in a perceptual and/or affective experience, that is necessary to the analogue.

The analogue may also incorporate an affective dimension. For Sartre, every perception is accompanied by an affective reaction (p. 39). Imagining involves quasi-experience, the thought that one is experien- cing an absent object. Hence, imagining may incorporate a quasi- affective element. In the imaginative mode, “Love, hate, desire, will are quasi-love, quasi-hate, etc., since the observation of the unreal object is a quasi-observation” (p. 174; also see pp. 144, 203-9). For example, imagining Peter may incorporate the thought that if I wereseeing Peter, then 1 would be affected in such and sucha manner, although I am aware that I am not really seeing Peter and not being so affected. Kinaesthetic sensations may also provide material for an analogue. Hence, an analogue may be partially constituted by quasi-kinaesthetic sensations,

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which “serve as substitutes for a visual form”(p. 1 16). Thus, experiential beliefs are necessary for an analogue, and it may contain quasi-affective and quasi-kinaesthetic elements as well.

Having discussed the essential features of the imaginative con- sciousness and analogue, we can now analytically structure Sartre’s theory. In imagining, thought takes the general form of the subjunctive conditional, i.e., if X were the case, then Y would be the case.* The subjunctive conditional is distinguished from the truth-functional material conditional, in which the antecedent is expected to be true and the falsity of the antecedent makes the whole proposition trivially true. The subjunctive verb form is used to indicate a contrary-to-fact context, where the antecedent is regarded as false, as in: “If President Carter were a Republican (but of course he is not), then 1 would be able to understand his conservatism.” The general form that thought takes in the imaginative mode can then be expressed as: if 1 were in such and such position and object 0 were there, then I would experience so and so. The “so and so” of the consequent is the analogue. For example, imagining Peter may involve the thought that if I were in such and such a position and Peter were there, then I would see that he is tall and white, experience the emotion of joy, and feel certain kinaesthetic sensations. Of course, in the contrary-to-fact context of the subjunctive thought one does not actually see Peter, have the emotion, or feel the kinaesthetic sensations; quasi-experience is incorporated in imaginative thought. And either conjunct of the antecedent may carry the counterfactual context. Imagining the absent Peter, who is in Berlin, as being in Berlin would be represented by the thought:

If I were in such and such a position in Berlin (of course 1 am not) and Peter were there, then I would experience so and so.

If Peter is in Berlin, but I imagine him to be at the North Pole, my imaginative thought would be:

If I were in such and such a position at the North Pole (of course I am not) and Peter were there (of course he is not) , then I would experience so and so.

Imagining a red centaur in my room would involve the imaginative thought:

If I were in such and such a position in my room and a red centaur were there (of course it is not since they are nonexistent), then 1 would experience so and so.

Imagining a red centaur at the North Pole would involve the imaginative thought:

If I were in such and such a position at the North Pole (of course I am not) and a red centaur were there (of course it is not since they are nonexistent), then I would experience so and so.

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For Sartre, then, “imagining” is defined as a species of consciousness incorporating a thought having the following form: if I were in such and such a position and object 0 were there, then I would experience so and so. In this definition, consciousness is a genus having imaginative thought as one of its species. The intentional dimension of imagination is represented in the second conjunct of the antecedent, and in the experiential beliefs of the analogue. The concept of negation is embedded in at least one of the conjuncts of the antecedent. “Experience” is broadly construed to cover perception, affectivity and sensation. In the context of a subjunctive conditional, we have the phenomenon of quasi-experience. And since imagination is thought- constituted, and not controlled by the perception of an external object, it is internally generated or spontaneous. Thus, the essential features of the imaginative act are specified by our analysis. In addition, the analogue occurs in the consequent of the subjunctive conditional.

This analysis enables us to clarify two additional features of Sartre’s theory. He claims that imagined objects “do not appear, as they do in perception, from a particular angle; they do not occur from a point of view” (p. 177). This may seem incompatible with the antecedent of our subjunctive conditional. However, the antecedent contains an implicit negation. Visualizing the absent Peter is not seeing him from an actual point of view, typically it is thinking that one would see certain aspects of Peter if one were in a certain position or point of view, where one acknowledges that he is not in that position. Thus, Sartre adds that although imagined objects do not appear from an actual point of view, i.e., they are not actually seen, nevertheless, “This does not mean that Peter will not appear before me in a certain position, and perhaps in a certain place. But the objects of our imaginative consciousness are like . . . silhouettes . . . . I t is something like a rough draft of a point of view on them which vanishes, becomes diluted. These are not sensible but rather quasi-sensible things” (p. 177).

Secondly, Sartre claims that an analogue is the equivalent of a perception, and our analysis helps clarify this concept. An analogue is the equivalent of a perception in the sense that if the intentional object were perceptually present, then I would experience the properties mentioned in the analogue. Peter may be visualized as being white and having a moustache. Beliefs that he has such properties are constituents of the analogue. To say the analogue is theequivalent of a perception is to say that if Peter were present and if he possessed the properties of being white and having a moustache, then 1 would see those properties.

It follows that Sartre’s concept of equivalence is quite distinct from the concept of resemblance. He stresses the point that a resemblance can only obtain between two perceived objects. A picture consisting of lines on paper may bear a structural resemblance to another object, e.g., Peter. And such a resemblance may be perceived when both objects are present (pp. 29-30, 33-4,45). But if, while looking at the picture’s lines, 1 intend Peter himself, and say: “‘This is a portrait of Peter’ or, more

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briefly: ‘This is Peter.’ Then the picture is no longer an object, but operates as material for an image” (p. 30). That is, we now have Peter as the intentional object of the imaginative act, and an equivalence obtains between the analogue, as a constituent of an imaginative thought, and Peter.

Before considering criticisms of Sartre’s theory, let us note the textual evidence for the general subjunctive analysis we have presented. There are many passages which directly support this interpretation (pp. 17-8, 23-6, 30-2, 109-1 1 , 126-7, 160-1):

To form an image of Peter is to make an intentional synthesis which gathers up a mass of past events, which proclaims the identity of Peter by means of these diverse appearances and which presents this selfsame object in a certain form (in profile, three fourths. full- length, half-length, etc). This form is necessarily intuitive; what my actual intention grasps is the corporeal Peter, the Peter 1 can see, touch, hear, if I did see him, hear him. or touch him. It is a body which is necessarily a certain distance from mine, which necessarily hasa certain position in relation to me. But at this moment I know that the Peterwhom I could touch is not being touched by me. It is the very nature of my image of him not to touch him or see him, a way he has of nor heing at such a distance. in such a position. In the image. belief posits the intuition but not Peter (pp. 17-18).

. . . this visual figure is not the result of visual sensations: it presents itself as that which I could see at the tip of my finger if I were to open my eyes: it is a visual form as an image (p. 109).

11

In light of our analysis let us consider four recurrent criticisms of Sartre’s theory by analytic philosophers, namely, that ( 1 ) he rein- troduces the mental image into his own theory; (2) his claim that we cannot obtain information via the imagination is false; (3) his alleged incompatibility between imagination and perception it too strong; and (4) due to the incompatibility between imagination and perception, Sartre is led to the false conjunctive claim that all imaginative acts must be seeings-as of some perceptually present analogue, but that these seeings-as cannot involve seeing.

The first criticism-that Sartre reintroduces the mental image-is advanced by Warnock. She cites the following passage from Sartre:

I want to be with Peter, I want to believe he is here. my whole consciousness is directed to him. it is “fascinated” in some way. And this spontaneity. this “intention towards” Peter causes this new phenomenon to flash forth. which is . . . consciousness of the image (p. 134).

Commenting on this text, she says: “So something flashes forth . . . a kind of awareness of an object which is entirely unlike anything else.” But we should recall that Sartre clearly states that the notion “mental image” is confusing and eliminable in favor of “imaginative con- sciousness” (p. 8). So in this passage Sartre is claiming that the imaginative consciousness is spontaneous. I t is true that “something flashes forth . . . a kind of awareness,” but it is the imaginative consciousness that flashes forth as spontaneous, not a mental image.

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For the imaginative consciousness intends Peter himself, not a mental image of Peter: “imaginative consciousness involves no mental imagery at all” (p. 35).

In another paper, Warnock cites the following passage from Sartre to show that the analogue reintroduces the mental image:

I want the face of Peter to appear as a perception. I want “to make him present” to me. And as 1 cannot bring him before me directly as a perception I have recourse to a certain material which acts as an analogue, as an equivalent, of the perception (p. 23).

Commenting on this text, she says that for Sartre: “What is actually in our mind at this moment when we are imaging something represents the properties of the thing we are thinking of by a n a l ~ g y . ” ~ But the analogue represents its object by equivalence, not by analogy. TWO objects of perception may be said to be analogous, i.e., they may resemble each other, but the analogue does not resemble the intentional object of an imaginative act. An imaginative thought of Peter does not resemble Peter. Sartre clearly asserts that an analogue is not a mental image (p. 41), and clearly maintains that an analogue does not resemble its object (pp. 29-34, 72-6). To saddle him with a resemblance view is to overlook his emphatic rejection of immanence theories, all of which incorporate the mistake of “transferring to the analogue the qualities of the thing it represents” (p. 126).

A second criticism is that Sartre’s emphasis on quasi-observation as a characteristic of imaginative consciousness leads him to mistakenly claim that we cannot learn anything or acquire knowledge by imagining. Warnock says: “If 1 am asked. . . what colour somebody’s tie was whom I met yesterday, I may create a mental image of the man and then discern by this means the colour of his tie.”5 She allows that by visualization a person may not correctly identify the color and that there is no immediate check on whether he has got it right, but claims that the example suggests that we might “suppose” we can examine an image and learn something from it which we did not consciously build into the image.

The Sartrean response is that there is no image in consciousness over and above our thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and sensations (p. 19). Knowledge, or belief, is a constituent of the analogue, but one cannot derive knowledge from the analogue as he can by inspecting a photograph. For imaginative knowledge is in the form ofthe analogue, it is not derived from the analogue (pp. 10-14, 126-7, 148). By lookingat a color photograph of the man 1 can learn the color of his tie, but since my ability to visualize its color is just knowing what it would look like, I cannot examine the analogue to acquire knowledge about its color. It does not follow that when I visualize the absent man 1 will necessarily be able to specify the color of his tie. The analogue may be constituted by incomplete or general memory beliefs. 1 may know he wore a tie yet not know its color. But if 1 later say, “His tie was red,” the more complete or specific memory beliefs still comprise the thought-constituted analogue

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(p. 12). Of course, the fact that we cannot acquire knowledge by inspecting an analogue does not entail that we cannot “suppose” that we can inspect a n image and learn something from it. Even perceptive philosophers, such as Hume, have fallen victim to the illusion of immanence.

The third criticism is that Sartre’s theory involves too sharp a distinction between imagination and perception. lshiguro criticiles Sartre on this basis: Perceiving and imagining are, he claims, two irreducible and mutually exclusive attitudes of the mind. But is this dichotomy. . . as evident as Sartre suggests?. . . . He thinks that when 1 see the actor as the person he is mimicking, 1 cannot be really perceiving the actor. Similarly, if 1 see a painting as a portrait of X, according to Sartre I am no longer perceiving the painting. . . . And this seems to me to beevidently wrong. If I see Laurence Olivier as Hamlet, I must on the contrary also be perceiving Laurence Olivier. One cannot see X as Y without seeing X.’

Bunting makes a similar point:

He [Sartre] maintains that ‘to say “ I have an image of Peter” is equivalent to saying not only “1 d o not see Peter,” but also “1 see nothing at all”.‘ (p. 17) In other words, if any object of consciousness is described truly as ‘imagining Peter’(or ‘having an image of Peter’), we cannot at the same time say truly that this act of consciousness is. in any legitimate sense of ‘perceive’. a perceptual one.

Now it is true that Sartre draws a trichotomy between pure cognition, perception, and imagination (pp. 9-14). If we stress the total exclusiveness of these conscious modes, we burden Sartre with the empirically absurd thesis that a person could not simultaneously attend to a spot on the wall while doing sums. But the context of the passage Bunting cites suggests an alternative interpretation. Sartre says: “to say ‘1 have an image of Peter’ is equivalent to saying not only ‘1 d o not see Peter,’ but also ‘1 see nothing at all.’Thecharacteristic of the intentional object of the imaginative consciousness is that the object is not present and is posited as such” (p. 17). Bunting is correct in asserting that if an act is imaginative, the same act cannot be perceptual. The imaginative act intends the absent Peter; we d o not simultaneously see him. However, we distinguished the material for an analogue from the analogue itself. The physical lines and colors of a picture can be seen, but it is the absent Peter who is visualiz.ed. Hence, nothing prevents one from simultaneously seeing a presented picture and imagining the absent Peter. This can be represented in our subjunctive analysis as: 1 a m seeing a picture (lines and colors), and thinking that if 1 were in such and such a position and Peter were there (of course he is not) then I would perceive so and so. There are two conscious acts and two distinct objects.

Furthermore, there are passages in Sartre which clearly suggest this interpretation (pp. 24-7, 29-32, 36-40, 42-4, 187 fn., 265-6, 274-5):

In thecasc o l a physical image. houevcr. the intentionali tycon\tantly returns to the image- portrait. Wc lace the portrait and uc oh.trr\’c, it; the imaginary consciouhness of Peter is

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being constantly enriched; new details are being constantly added to the object: that wrinkle I had not noticed in Peter until 1 saw it in his portrait becomes a regular part of his features from now on. Each detail is perceived, but not for itself, not as a spot ofcolor on a canvas: it becomes a part of the object at once, that is a part of Peter (pp. 30-1).

According to this interpretation there is no incompatibility between simultaneously perceiving a picture and imagining Peter, but there is an incompatibility between simultaneously seeing Peter and imagining him as he is seen. For to see Peter one must be in a certain position with his eyes focused on the present Peter, but to imagine him one conjunct of the antecedent of the subjunctive imaginative thought must carry an implicit negation. It cannot be maintained that one is in a certain position with his eyes focused on Peter and that one is not in that position, nor can it be maintained that one is seeing the present Peter who is not present. Since an intentional object is an object given under a certain description, it does not follow that one cannot simultaneously see the blond-haired Peter and imagine him as being black-haired. This involves seeing that Peter is blond-haired, and thinking that if one were in such and such a position and Peter’s black-haired counterpart were there (of course he is not), then one would experience that counterpart. Since the person is directly perceiving Peter, it cannot be the case that the imaginative act posits Peter as absent, non-existent, existing elsewhere, or as neutral with respect to existence. It can, however, posit the black-haired counterpart of Peter as non-existent.

Bunting presents a fourth criticism of Sartre’s theory. We noted that he takes Sartre to maintain that imagination and perception are mutually exclusive. He also claims that for Sartre, “there is, in all cases of imagining an X, an object Y which serves as a perceptually present analogue or equivalent of the absent or non-existent X. This object Y must be something which I can, and do, perceive at the time of the imagining . . . .’” Bunting takes Sartre to be claiming that all imaginative acts involve the “seeing of something perceptually present as an absent or non-existent object” (p. 241). Yet given that imagination and perception are mutually exclusive, this seeing-as of the perceptually present analogue cannot be a perceiving. Bunting’s objection is that any seeing of a picture (which he regards as the analogue) as Peter rests on a perception of the picture. He claims that Sartre cannot account for this case because he regards perception and imagination as mutually exclusive.

However, the picture is material for a thought-constituted analogue, and is not the analogue itself. One sees the picture, not the analogue. Furthermore, the exclusiveness between imagination and perception is that one cannot simultaneously imagine and perceive the same intentional object under the same description. This does not preclude our simultaneously perceiving a picture and visualizing Peter. On our interpretation, Bunting is mistaken on ( I ) the nature of Sartre’s analogue, and (2) the type of incompatibility that obtains between imagination and perception.

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Let us now consider the advantages Sartre’s account has over other contemporary theories of imagination. We shall discuss: the mental image theory, the seeing-as account of Ishiguro and Dilman, Ryle’s theory, and the descriptivist account of Shorter and Dennett.

A recurrent conception of imagination is that to imagine an object is to have a mental image of it, where the image is analogous to a copy or representational picture of the object and the imaginative act is analogous to perception. Although some image theorists have asserted that visualizing Peter involves ( 1 ) the literal seeing of a mental image which resembles Peter, neither conjunct of this claim is necessary for an image t h e ~ r y . ~ For it might be maintained that visualizing Peter involves (2) something like seeing (i.e., “seeing”) a mental image which resembles Peter, or (3) seeing a mental image which is in some sense analogous to, but does not resemble, Peter, or (4) “seeing” a mental image which is analogous to, but does not resemble, Peter.

Now a dilemma can be posed which eliminates (2) and (3) as plausible theories. Peter has the properties of being colored and being shaped, and the mental image does or does not possess such properties. If the mental image does possess such properties, then it resembles Peter. However, in that case we would be able to literally see the mental image. But according to (2) we “see” the mental image. Given the resemblance between image and object, the image theorist must give up (2) and fall back to (1). On the other hand, if the mental image does not resemble Peter, i.e., if image and object do not possess properties of the same sort, then we cannot be said to literally see the mental image. Anything that we see has the properties of being colored and being shaped, and hence, resembles any other observed object in those respects. Thus, if the image does not resemble the object, we “see,” but do not see, the image, and (3) collapses to (4). If it is claimed that we do see the image, then it cannot be maintained that the image does not resemble the object, and (3) collapses to (1).

A number of considerations weigh against (1). This theory is a conjunction of two claims: ( la) we see mental images, and ( 1 b) a mental image resembles the imagined object. Sartre argues that ( la ) is implausible (pp. 124-34, 180-94). We focus our eyes upon perceptually present objects, but not upon imagined objects; there is nothing analogous in imagining to moving one’s head to get a better view of the object. Sartre notes that imagination is spontaneous and is not controlled by its object as is perception. In imagining we are not taken in by appearances as we may be in perceiving, e.g., seeing a stick in water. And if it is claimed that visualizing involves “seeing,” but not seeing, a mental image which resembles the object, then our dilemma against (2) applies.

Furthermore, there is a conclusive argument against (1 b).’” On (1 ) an image is an image of Peter in virtue of a resemblance. Now suppose

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Peter has an identical twin, Perry. One can certainly imagine Peter and then Perry. But according to (l), he would have the same image, for whatever image he has will resemble either twin equally. It follows that an image itself cannot fix the identity of the object of an imaginative act; imagining Peter is not identical to having a mental image that resembles Peter. For Sartre, the imaginative act is intentional. Our subjunctive analysis captures this aspect in the second conjunct of the antecedent and the experiential beliefs of the analogue. The imaginative thought is of Peter, and the experiential beliefs of the analogue are that Peter possesses certain properties. Moreover, the analogue is thought- constituted and cannot be said to resemble Peter. Hence, there is no temptation to claim that imagining involves seeing or that the analogue resembles the intentional object.

This leaves us with (4). The burden clearly is on the image theorist to elucidate how imagination can involve “seeing” a mental image which is analogous to, but does not resemble, the intentional object of the imaginative act. For as it stands, we have only a metaphorical sense of seeing and an unanalyzed relation between image and object. Now Sartre does provide an analysis of (4). He allows that “mental image” can be used in ordinary contexts, but argues that it is essentially eliminable. “Seeing” is analyzed on our model of subjunctive thought. And the relation between thought-constituted analogue and the intentional object of the imaginative act is that of equivalence rather than resemblance. Our claim, then, is that his theory captures the truth that (4) vaguely points toward, without the introduction of mental images. On the basis of Occam’s razor, and difficulties with the concept of a mental image, Sartre’s theory is to be preferred.

On Sartre’s account “seeing” is, of course, not seeing. This invites the criticism that he cuts all connections between imagination and perception or experience-connections which might possibly be preserved on an image theorist’s account of “seeing.” It should be recalled, however, that the beliefs constituting the Sartrean analogue are experientially based, e.g., the beliefs in the case of visualization are perceptually based and may also be based on experienced feelings, emotions and kinaesthetic sensations. Hence, Sartre’s theory of visualization does preserve a connection between imagination and perception or, more broadly speaking, experience.

To summarize, we have offered what we take to be conclusive arguments against versions ( I ) , (2 ) , and (3) of the mental image theory of imagination. Version (4) remains an option, although it leaves unanalyzed the notion of “seeing” and the relation between image and object. Our suggestion is that Sartre’s theory provides the best analysis of (4), and on that analysis the concept of mental image is eliminable. Hence, there is no reason to accept any version of the mental image theory.

In the Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein says: “The concept of an aspect is akin to the concept of an image. . . the concept ‘1 am now

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seeing it as . . .’ is akin to ‘1 am now having this image’.’’’’ Following Wittgenstein, several philosophers, who wish to avoid a mental image account but who nonetheless maintain that imagination has some kinship to perception, have argued that there are close parallels between imagination and aspect perception.

One basis for the kinship is that when 1 see a line drawing as Peter the aspect seen can only be identified in terms of my thought of Peter. Similarly, visualizing Peter involves the thought of Peter; the identity of the “image” is established by the thought of what it is an image of. lshiguro and Dilman claim that visualizing Peter is like seeing a line drawing as Peter, except that in the former case there is nothing corresponding to the lines. For Dilman, visualizing is “seeing something in my mind’s eye . . . . And this seeing is like seeing one’s friend in a photograph . . . . Unlike, however, the case where 1 see my friend in the photograph before me, here there is nothing to correspond to my seeing something, e.g., the shaded piece of paper. which suggests the aspect . . . .”” lshiguro claims that although in aspect perception we see an X as Y, in imagination “the X’s disappear, as it were, and we are just left with activities of ‘seeing as Y’ . . . . There is no re resentational medium . . . which I see as depicting something else.”’ When one sees a line drawing as Peter he does not see a special mental object over and above the lines themselves; he is aware of the lines and sees them as Peter. Analogously, in visualizing Peter there is no mental image in the mind over and above the thought of Peter. There is simply the thought of Peter, and a seeing-as Peter, but no mental image that is seen-as. The thought fixes the identity of the aspect, and the seeing-as dimension of the analysis preserves the tie between imagination and perception.

The central difficulty for this type of account is that seeing-as is a relational concept; in the standard cases, such as the duck-rabbit, there is always an X that is seen-as Y.I4 But how can imagination be analyzed via the relational concept of seeing-as if one term of the relation does no! exist‘? lshiguro and Dilman model imagination on aspect perception in order to maintain a tie between imagination and perception. Recall that Ishiguro’s criticism of Sartre rests precisely on the alleged Sartrean incompatibility of imagination and perception. But to preserve the tie on the seeing-as account we require some entity that is seen-as something else. Our ability to see X as Y rests on there being an X that is seen-as Y. The aspects seen-as cannot be aspects of Peter himself, since in visualizing Peter he is not present. Nor can the seeing-as Y in visualizing be just seeing Y, for “seeing” is not seeing. Hence, the prime candidate for the X that is seen-as Y would seem to be a mental image. But this reintroduces our previously discussed difficulties with the concept of a mental image. On the other hand, if there is no X that is imaginatively seen-as Y, then imagination is not analogous to aspect perception, and the link between imagination and perception is severed. Imagining Peter is constituted by the thought of Peter. The problem here is that the thought of Peter is necessary for imagining him, but not

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sufficient. As Sartre points out, one can think of Peter without visualizing him (pp. 8 1-96, 143). The point of introducing the notion of seeing-as was to specify an element which preserves some link between perception and imagination.

The dilemma, then, is that t o preserve the tie between perception and imagination the seeing-as account seems to require mental images, but to preclude mental images involves cutting the link between imagination and perception. Neither alternative seems acceptable. But this type of dilemma does not arise for Sartre’s account. No mental images are required, yet a tie between imagination and perception is maintained. The beliefs constituting the Sartrean analogue are experientially based; in visualizing they are based upon the “look” of the object and upon experienced feelings, emotions and kinaesthetic sensations. An alternative suggestion, then, is that imaginative seeings- as are properly analyz.able in terms of Sartre’s theory. While in places he does use the “seeing-as” locution (pp. 32, 36-9,43, 65-7), it is clear from the context of its use that imaginative seeing-as is t o be analyzed subjunctively.

Ryle’s theory of imagination is similar to Sartre’s in many r e s p e ~ t s . ’ ~ Negatively, both are concerned with distinguishing seeing from “seeing,” and eliminating the notion of the mental image. One of Ryle’s general concerns is to dissolve the question “Where does the seeing take place when something is seen?” He notes that only processes such as looking or listening take place or occur, argues that seeing is an achievement not a process, and concludes that the question is spurious. Achievements, moreover, terminate processes; we cannot see if we have not looked with the eyes. Since visualizing or “seeing” does not involve looking, it cannot involve seeing. He then argues that although “seeing” has a use, its use does not entail the existence of mental images. A person “seeing” Peter is not seeing a mental image because “seeing” cannot involve seeing. Rather, in visualizing Peter a person is seeming to see Peter when he is not seeing at all.

Ryle’s positive account of imagination does, however, differ from Sartre’s. In its most general use “imagining” covers a wide variety of activities; a mendacious witness, an inventor, a child playing bears, and a person visualizing Peter are all engaged in imaginative activity (p. 258). The notion of pretending is characteristic of some of these activities, e.g., the child playing bears and the person visualizing Peter. In the case of the child playing bears a mock-action is involved; the child deliberately moves about, mimicking the behavior of a bear. Visualizing o r “seeing” is a species of pretending in which no overt action is involved. For Ryle, “seeing” an object or “hearing” a tune involves using the knowledge one has of how the object looks or the tune sounds, just as “doing sums in one’s head” involves knowledge of the table of sums. A person first learns to manipulate numerals on paper and recite sums out loud, and then learns to refrain from such acts while “summing in his head.” Analogously, after looking at Peter and seeing him, one can then

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utilize the knowledge of what he looks like, while refraining from looking. And, while “hearing” a known tune does not itself involve listening, it does involve one’s knowledge of how the tune sounds and an abstention from listening. “Hearing” a known tune is thus similar to imaginatively “humming” it: “fancying one is humming a known tune . . . . is to make ready for those notes in a hypothetical manner. It is not humming very, very quietly, but rather it is deliberately not doing those pieces of humming which would be due, if one were not trying to keep the peace” (p. 269). Imagining entails knowledge, and is a form of pretending in which one refrains from action.

It is doubtful, however, that restraint is essential to imagining in the sense of visualizing. Phenomenologically, when we do sums in our head we need not refrain from uttering them or writing them down. And when we visualize Peter it is odd to say that we refrain from looking. In visualizing him we do employ our knowledge of how he looks, but we also draw on our knowledge that he is not perceptually present. Since imagining involves the awareness that Peter is not perceptually present, we need not look and need not refrain from looking. Of course, in visualizing one may refrain from looking in order to avoid focusing attention on the distracting details of perceptually present objects. But, since one can look at and attend to a picture while imaginatively thinking of Peter, visualizing does not entail refraining from looking, I t may be the case that a beginning student asked to visualize a complex geometrical diagram will have to refrain from sketching it out or looking at an example in his text. But a person with more knowledge of geometry may simply visualize the diagram without refraining from sketching or looking. Hence, restraint is not essential to visualizing.

It also seems a mistake to classify visualizing as a species of pretense. Ryle is correct in differentiating the case of the child playing bears from that of a person visualizing Peter; the former, but not the latter, involves overt mock-acts. But this seems a sufficient basis for denying that visualization involves pretense, for in the standard cases in which a person pretends, he does initiate overt acts. In contrast to visualizing, cases of pretending such as acting, sham-boxing and playing bears all involve going through some motions. Of course, visualization may be involved in pretending; the shadow boxer may envision his “opponent” on the canvas. But pretense need not be involved when the geometer envisions a diagram. Sartre allows that visualizing and pretending may go together (pp. 18, 50, 70, 204-6), but he does not regard pretense as integral to visualizing.

It should also be noted that in Ryle’s examples of visualization, reference to pretense is often deleted: “Seeing Helvellyn in one’s mind’s eye. . . . does involve the thought of having a view of Helvellyn and it is therefore a more sophisticated operation than that of having a view of Helvellyn. It is one utilisation among others of the knowledge of how Helvellyn should look, or, in one sense of the verb, it is thinking how it should look” (p. 270). This passage does not involve reference to

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refraining from acting, or to pretending, and is compatible with Sartre’s subjunctive analysis. Our point is that if we read Ryle as claiming that visualizing is a species of pretending, his account is mistaken, but if the notions of pretending and refraining are dropped, we essentially have Sartre’s account.

Ryle suggests that visualizing is one way of utilizing our knowledge of how an object looks; it is “one of the things which my knowledge . . . enables me to do; describing it in words is another and a rarer ability”(p. 266). This remark suggests the descriptivist account of imagination offered by Shorter and Dennett.I6 Imagining an object is said to be analogous to describing it from a point of view. The analogy is based upon the following features: (1) both are intentional; it is Peter who is visualized or described from a point of view, (2) unlike perception, both are subject to the will; one can decide, or be ordered, to visualize or describe the absent Peter, but not to see him, (3) both may bedone with more or less detail; visualizations as well as descriptions can be vague or non-specific.

There are, however, disanalogies between visualizing an object and describing it from a point of view. I can describe Peter while looking directly at him, but I cannot simultaneously see and visualize the Peter who is before my eyes. The process of describing is also unlike that of imagining. Describing an object generally involves a sequential and cumulative process; I describe this aspect, then that aspect, and so on. But as Sartre points out, in imagining I “grasp” the object immediately: “it presents itself in one piece to intuition, it reveals at a single stroke what it is . . . . the very act that gives me the object as an image includes the knowledge of what it is” (p. 12). Of course, we do have general descriptive predicates, such as “man,” but imagining may be replete with details not captured by the general predicate. Sartre points out that although the imagination generally does not reveal the full “intimate texture’’ that is given to us in a perception (pp. 20-l), it nonetheless reveals more of the texture of an object than pure abstract thought (pp. 16,52,93-6). I may well visualize the particular color shade and degree of roughness of Peter’s hands (p. 104). Russow points out that we may lack a precise descriptive term for the exact color shade of Peter’s hands, yet we may well imagine that shade.’’ She notes that our ability to describe is limited by the range of our language and in some cases, as with tastes and smells, our lexicon of descriptive predicates is minimal. We are often aware of, and later imagine, a smell or taste for which we lack a descriptive predicate. So the analogy between imagining and describing an object from a point of view is weak.

The descriptivist account does help to clarify the problem of vagueness; the vagueness of some visualizations is said to be analogous to a vague or non-specific description. In an incomplete description, Peter may be neither described as having a moustache nor described as not having a moustache, since the property might not be mentioned in the description. And my not going into detail about the property in my

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visualization of Peter simply means that it is not included in my visualization. However, Sartre’s account also permits vagueness in visualization: “To be vaguely conscious of an image is to be conscious of a vague image. We are far from Berkeley and Hume, who denied the possibility of general images, of non-specific images . . . . Berkeley’s error lay in ascribing to the image conditions which apply only to perception. A hare vaguely perceived is nevertheless a specific hare. But a hare which is an object of a vague image is a vague hare” (p. 20). Furthermore, Sartre’s theory not only allows vagueness in visualization, it accounts for the phenomenon. Visualization is based upon experiential beliefs and is, in part, subject to the will. Hence, in visualizing Peter one may not utilize, say, the belief that he is tall or the belief that he has a moustache: “what appears to imaginative consciousness is not at all like what is seen in perception. The material is impoverished as it passes from the one to the other: a number of qualities drop out” (p. 73). Also, the experiential beliefs one has of an object may themselves be general or non-specific (pp. 20,38, 160, 189). Finally, over time experiential beliefs may not be retained in memory. As they are lost, the remaining beliefs grow in generality (pp. 203-8). Thus, Sartre’s theory both allows and accounts for the vagueness of some visualizations.

IV

To summarize, we have offered an interpretation of Sartre’s theory of imagination which we take to be both fair to his text and essentially true. Our analysis undercuts the standard criticisms of Sartre’s account. Furthermore, we have argued that it has distinct advantages over competing theories of imagination.18

NOTES

’ Jean-Paul Sartre, The Psychology of Imagination, trans. Bernard Frechtman (New Yqrk: Philosophical Library, 1948).

~ In the analytic tradition there are several accounts of imagination as a type of hypothetical thought. If we put aside Ryle’s claim that imagining is a species of pretense involving no overt actions, we essentially have this sort of account: “A person with a tune running in his head is using his knowledge of how the tune goes; he is in a certain way realizing what he would be hearing, if he were listening to the tune being played. Somewhat as the boxer, when sparring, is hitting and parrying in a hypothetical manner, so the person with a tune running in his head may be described as following the tune in a hypothetical manner.” Gilbert Ryle, nle Concept ofMind(New York: Barnes and Noble, 1949) p. 266. Similar accounts are found in: D. S. Schwayder, “The Varieties and the Objects of Visual Phenomena,” Mind, 70 (1961). pp. 307-30; Lilly M . Russow, A Theory of Imuginarion, Dissertation (Princeton University. 1976)-this is the first explicitly subjunctive account of imagination in the analytic tradition; Ann Garry, “Mental Images,” Personalist, 58 (l977), pp. 28-38.

‘ Mary Warnock, “The Concrete Imagination,” Journal qf the British Sociery for Phenomenology, I (1970), p. 9. ‘ Mary Warnock. “Imagination in Sartre,” British Journal Of Aeslhetics. 10 (l970), p.

327. Warnock, “The Concrete Imagination,” p. 9.

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Hide Ishiguro, “Imagination,” in British Analytic Philosophy, ed. Bernard Williams

’ 1. A. Bunting, “Sartre on Imagination,” Philosophical Studies (Ireland), 19 ( 1970). p. and Alan Mortefiore (New York: Humanities Press, 1966), p. 176.

23:. Ibid., pp. 240-1. Gareth Matthews, “Mental Copies,” Philosophical Review, 78 (1969). pp. 53-73.

l o This argument is discussed in: llham Dilman, “Imagination,” Proceedings of thc Aristotelian Sociefy, Supp. Vol. 61 (1967), p. 28; Russow, A Theory of Imagination, p. 27; Garry, “Mental Images,” p. 34.

I ’ Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (New York: Macmillan, 1953). pa;; 11, p. 213. . (l?p7), p. 50.

llham Dilman, “Imagination,” Analysis, 28 (1968). p. 93. l3 Hide lshiguro, “Imagination,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Soci.cty, Supp. Vol. 61

I s Ryle, The Conceppr of Mind, pp. 245-79.

I ’ Russow, A Theory of Imagination. pp. 91, 104.

0. Hanfling, “Mental Images,” Analysis, 29 (1969). pp. 166-73.

J. M. Shorter, “Imagination,” Mind, 61 (1952). pp. 528-42; D. C. Dennett, Content and Consciousness (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1969). pp. 132-46.

The authors thank Angel Medina and Robert Arrington for their hetpful comments.

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