Chapter 3 Thinking
as the Instrument
of Knowledge
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Paragraph 1-17
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[1] When I
observe how a billiard ball,
when struck,
communicates
its motion
to another,
I remain entirely
without influence
on the course
of this
observed process.
The direction
of motion and
the velocity
of the second ball
are determined
by the direction
and velocity
of the first.
As long as I
remain a mere spectator,
I can only say
anything
about the movement
of the second ball
when it
has taken place.
It is quite different
when
I begin
to reflect
on the content
of my observation.
The purpose of my reflection
is to form
concepts
of the occurrence.
I connect the concept
of an elastic ball
with certain other concepts
of mechanics,
and take
into consideration
the special circumstances
which
obtain in the instance
in question.
I try,
in other words,
to add
to the occurrence
which
takes place
without my assistance
a second process
which
takes place
in the conceptual sphere.
This latter one is dependent
on me.
This is shown
by the fact
that
I can rest content
with the observation,
and renounce
all
search
for concepts
if I have no
need of them.
If however,
this need
is present,
then
I am not satisfied until
I have brought
the concepts Ball, Elasticity,
Motion, Impact,
Velocity, etc.,
into a certain connection,
to which
the observed
process
is related
in a definite way.
As surely
as the occurrence
goes
on
independently of me,
so surely is
the conceptual process unable
to take place
without my assistance.
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[2] We shall have
to consider
later
whether
this activity
of mine
really proceeds
from my own independent being,
or
whether
those modern physiologists are right
who say
that we
cannot think as we will,
but
that
we must think just
as those
thoughts
and thought-connections
determine
that happen
to be
present
in our consciousness.
For the present
we wish merely
to establish
the fact
that we constantly feel
obliged to seek
for concepts
and connections
of concepts,
which
stand
in a certain relation
to the objects
and
events
which
are given independently
of us.
Whether
this activity
is really ours
or
whether
we perform it
according to
an unalterable necessity,
is a question
we need
not decide at present.
That it appears
in the first instance
to be
ours is beyond question.
We know for certain
that we
are not given the concepts
together
with the objects.
That I
am myself
the agent
in the conceptual process
may be
an illusion,
but
to immediate observation
it certainly appears
to be so.
The question is,
therefore:
What
do
we gain
by supplementing
an event
with a conceptual counterpart?
[3] There
is a profound difference
between the ways
in which,
for me,
the parts
of an event
are related
to one another
before,
and after,
the discovery
of the corresponding concepts.
Mere observation
can trace
the parts
of a given event
as they occur,
but
their connection
remains
obscure
without the help
of concepts.
I see
the first billiard ball
move towards the second
in a certain direction
and with a certain velocity.
What will happen
after the impact
I must await,
and
again
I can only follow it
with my eyes.
Suppose someone,
at the moment
of impact,
obstructs my view
of the field
where
the event
is taking place,
then,
as mere spectator,
I remain ignorant
of what
happens afterwards.
The situation
is different
if prior to the obstruction
of my view
I have discovered
the concepts corresponding
to the pattern
of events.
In that case
I can say
what will happen even
when
I am
no longer able
to observe.
An event
or an object
which is merely observed,
does not
of itself
reveal anything
about its connection
with other events
or objects.
This connection
becomes evident only
when
observation
is combined with thinking.
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[4] Observation
and thinking
are
the two
points
of departure
for all
the spiritual striving
of man,
in so far
as he
is conscious
of such striving.
The workings
of common sense,
as well as
the most complicated scientific
researches,
rest
on these
two fundamental pillars
of our spirit.
Philosophers
have started
from various primary antitheses:
idea and reality,
subject and object,
appearance
and thing-in-itself,
"I" and "Not-I",
idea
and will,
concept
and matter,
force
and substance,
the conscious
and the unconscious.
It is easy
to show,
however,
that all
these antitheses
must be preceded
by
that
of observation
and thinking,
this being
for man
the most important one.
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[5] Whatever principle
we
choose to lay down,
we must either prove
that somewhere
we have observed it,
or
we must enunciate
it in the form
of a clear thought
which
can be re-thought
by any other thinker.
Every philosopher
who sets out
to discuss
his fundamental principles
must express them
in conceptual form
and
thus use thinking.
He therefore indirectly admits
that his activity presupposes thinking.
Whether
thinking
or something else
is
the chief factor
in the evolution
of the world
will not be decided
at this point.
But
that
without thinking,
the philosopher
can gain no knowledge
of such evolution,
is clear
from the start.
In the occurrence
of the world phenomena,
thinking
may play
a minor part;
but
in the forming
of a view
about them,
there can be
no doubt that,
its part
is
a leading one.
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[6] As regards
observation,
our need of it
is due to the way
we are constituted.
Our thinking
about a horse
and the object
"horse" are two things
which
for us
emerge apart
from each other.
This object
is accessible
to us
only by means
of observation.
As little
as we can form
a concept
of a horse
by merely staring
at the animal,
just
as little are
we able
by mere thinking
to produce
a corresponding object.
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[7] In sequence
of time,
observation
does in fact come
before thinking.
For even thinking
we must get
to know first through observation.
It was essentially a description
of an observation
when,
at the beginning
of this chapter,
we gave
an account
of how thinking lights up
in the presence
of an event and
goes
beyond what
is merely presented.
Everything that enters
the circle
of our experience,
we first become aware
of
through observation.
The content
of sensation,
perception
and contemplation,
all feelings,
acts
of will,
dreams and fancies,
mental pictures,
concepts
and ideas,
all illusions
and hallucinations,
are given
to us
through observation.
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[8] But
thinking
as an object
of observation
differs essentially
from all other objects.
The observation
of a table,
or a tree,
occurs
in me as soon
as these objects
appear
upon the horizon
of my experience.
Yet
I do not,
at the same time,
observe my thinking
about these things.
I observe the table,
and
I carry out the thinking
about the table,
but I
do not
at the same moment
observe this.
I must first take up
a standpoint outside
my own activity if,
in addition
to observing
the table,
I want also
to observe
my thinking
about the table.
Whereas observation
of things
and events,
and thinking
about them,
are
everyday occurrences
filling
up the continuous current
of my life,
observation
of the thinking itself
is a kind
of exceptional state.
This fact
must be properly taken
into account
when
we come to determine
the relationship
of thinking
to all other contents
of observation.
We must be
quite
clear
about the fact that,
in observing thinking,
we are applying to it
a procedure
which constitutes
the normal course
of events
for the study
of the whole
of the rest
of the world-content,
but
which
in this normal course
of events
is not applied
to thinking itself.
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[9] Someone
might object
that
what
I have said
about thinking
applies equally
to feeling and
to all other spiritual activities.
Thus
for instance,
when
I have a feeling
of pleasure,
the feeling
is also kindled
by the object,
and
it is
this object that
I observe,
but
not the feeling
of pleasure.
This objection,
however,
is based
on an error.
Pleasure
does not stand
at
all in the same relation
to its object
as the concept formed
by thinking.
I am conscious,
in the most positive way,
that
the concept of a thing
is formed through my activity;
whereas pleasure
is produced
in me
by an object
in the same way as,
for instance,
a change
is caused
in an object
by a stone
which falls on it.
For observation,
a pleasure
is given
in exactly
the same way
as the event
which causes it.
The same
is not true
of the concept.
I can ask
why a particular event arouses
in me a feeling
of pleasure,
but
I certainly cannot ask
why an event
produces in me
a particular set
of concepts.
The question
would be simply meaningless.
In reflecting
upon an event,
I am
in no way concerned
with an effect
upon myself.
I can learn nothing
about myself
through knowing the concepts
which
correspond
to the observed
change
in a pane
of glass
by a stone thrown
against it.
But
I do very definitely learn
something
about my personality
when
I know
the feeling
which a certain event arouses
in me.
When I
say of an observed
object,
"This
is a rose,"
I say absolutely nothing
about myself;
but when I say
of the same thing that
"it gives me a
feeling of pleasure,"
I characterize
not only the rose,
but also myself
in my relation
to the rose.
[10] There can,
therefore,
be no
question
of putting
thinking
and feeling
on a level
as objects
of observation.
And the same
could easily be shown
of other activities
of the human spirit.
Unlike thinking,
they must be
classed with other
observed
objects or events.
The peculiar nature
of thinking
lies
just in this,
that it
is an activity
which
is directed solely
upon the observed
object
and
not on the thinking personality.
This is apparent
even from the way
in which
we express our thoughts
about an object,
as distinct
from our feelings
or acts
of will.
When
I see
an object
and
recognize it
as a table,
I do not
as a rule say,
"I am thinking
of a table,"
but,
"this is
a table."
On the other hand,
I do say,
"I am pleased
with the table."
In the former case,
I am not
at all interested
in stating
that
I have entered
into a relation with the table;
whereas
in the latter case,
it is just this relation
that matters.
In saying,
"I am thinking
of a table,"
I already enter
the exceptional state characterized above,
in which
something
that is always contained
-- though not
as an observed
object --
within our spiritual activity,
is itself made
into an object
of observation.
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[11] This
is just
the peculiar nature
of thinking,
that the thinker forgets
his thinking
while
actually engaged
in it.
What occupies
his attention
is not
his thinking,
but the object
of his thinking,
which he
is observing.
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[12] The first observation
which
we make
about thinking
is therefore this:
that it
is the unobserved element
in our ordinary mental
and spiritual life.
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[13] The reason
why we
do not observe
the thinking
that
goes on
in our ordinary life
is none other
than this,
that it
is
due to our own activity.
Whatever
I do not myself produce,
appears
in my field
of observation
as an object;
I find myself
confronted
by it
as something
that has come
about
independently of me.
It comes
to meet me.
I must accept it
as something that precedes
my thinking process,
as a premise.
While
I am reflecting
upon the object,
I am occupied with it,
my attention
is focused
upon it.
To be
thus
occupied
is precisely
to contemplate
by thinking.
I attend,
not to my activity,
but
to the object
of this activity.
In other words,
while
I am thinking
I pay no
heed to my thinking,
which
is
of my own making,
but
only to the object
of my thinking,
which
is not
of my making.
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[14] I am,
moreover,
in the same position
when
I enter
into the exceptional state
and
reflect on my own thinking.
I can never observe
my present thinking;
I can only subsequently take
my experiences
of my thinking process
as the object
of fresh thinking
If I
wanted
to watch
my present thinking,
I should have
to split myself
into two persons,
one to think,
the other
to observe this thinking.
But
this I cannot do.
I can only accomplish it
in two separate acts.
The thinking
to be observed
is never that
in which
I am actually engaged,
but another one.
Whether,
for this purpose,
I make observations
of my own former
thinking,
or follow
the thinking process
of another person,
or finally,
as in the example
of the motions
of the billiard balls,
assume
an imaginary thinking
process,
is immaterial.
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[15] There
are two things
which are incompatible
with one another:
productive activity
and the simultaneous contemplation
of it.
This is recognized
even in Genesis (1, 31).
Here God
creates
the world
in the first six days,
and only
when it
is there is
any contemplation
of it possible:
"And God
saw everything
that he
had made and,
behold,
it was very good."
The same
applies
to our thinking.
It must be
there first,
if
we would observe it.
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[16] The reason
why it
is impossible
to observe
thinking
in the actual moment
of its occurrence,
is the very one
which makes it possible
for us
to know
it more immediately
and more intimately
than any other process
in the world.
Just
because it
is our own creation
do
we know the characteristic features
of its course,
the manner
in which
the process takes place.
What
in all other spheres
of observation
can be found
only indirectly,
namely,
the relevant context
and the relationship
between the individual objects,
is,
in the case
of thinking,
known
to us
in an absolutely direct way.
I do not
on the face
of it know
why,
for my observation,
thunder
follows lightning;
but
I know directly,
from the very content
of the two concepts,
why my thinking
connects the concept
of thunder
with the concept
of lightning.
It does not matter
in the least
whether
I have
the right concepts
of lightning
and thunder.
The connection
between those concepts
that
I do have
is
clear to me,
and this
through the very concepts themselves.
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[17] This transparent clearness
concerning
our thinking process
is quite independent
of our knowledge
of the physiological basis
of thinking.
Here
I am speaking
of thinking
in so far
as we know it
from the observation
of our own
spiritual activity.
How
one material process
in my brain
causes
or influences
another
while
I am carrying
out a thinking operation,
is quite irrelevant.
What
I observe
about thinking
is not
what process
in my brain
connects
the concept lightning
with the concept thunder
but
what causes me
to bring
the two concepts
into a particular relationship.
My observation
shows me
that
in linking one
thought
with another
there is
nothing to guide me
but the content
of my thoughts;
I am not guided
by any material processes
in my brain.
In a less materialistic age
than our own,
this remark
would
of course
be entirely superfluous.
Today,
however,
when there are
people
who believe
that once
we know
what matter
is
we
shall also know how
it thinks,
we do have to insist
that one
may talk
about thinking
without trespassing
on the domain
of brain physiology.
Many people
today find it difficult
to grasp
the concept
of thinking
in its purity.
Anyone
who challenges
the description
of thinking
which
I have given here
by quoting Cabanis' statement
that
"the brain
secretes
thoughts
as the liver
does gall
or the spittle-glands spittle ...",
simply does not know
what I
am talking about.
He tries
to find
thinking
by a process
of mere observation
in the same way
that
we proceed
in the case
of other objects
that make
up the world.
But
he cannot find it
in this way
because,
as I
have shown,
it eludes just
this ordinary
observation.
Whoever
cannot transcend materialism lacks
the ability
to bring
about the exceptional condition
I have described,
in which
he becomes conscious
of what
in all other spiritual activity
remains unconscious.
If
someone is not willing
to take this standpoint,
then
one can
no more discuss thinking
with him than
one can discuss
color
with a blind man.
But
in any case
he must not imagine that
we regard physiological processes
as thinking.
He fails
to explain
thinking
because
he simply does not see it.
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