C. D. Broad's Ontology of Mind 9783110326871, 9783110326567

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L. Nathan Oaklander C. D. Broad’s Ontology of Mind

Philosophische Analyse Philosophical Analysis Herausgegeben von / Edited by Herbert Hochberg • Rafael Hüntelmann • Christian Kanzian Richard Schantz • Erwin Tegtmeier Band 12 / Volume 12

L. Nathan Oaklander

C. D. Broad’s Ontology of Mind

ontos verlag Frankfurt I Paris I Ebikon I Lancaster I New Brunswick

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For Linda

Contents

Preface

ix

Introduction

1

Chapter 1: PROPOSITIONS AND TIME

3

Chapter 2: INTENTIONALITY AND SPACE IN PERCEPTION

29

Chapter 3: MEMORY

57

Chapter 4: INTROSPECTION

75

Chapter 5: CONCLUSION

89

Bibliography

103

Index

105

ix

PREFACE C. D. Broad's writings on various philosophical issues spans more than half a century. Rather than attempt to trace the development of his thought throughout these fifty years I have chosen to study what I take to be his most representative work, namely, The Mind and Its Place in Nature. Nor does the scope of this study encompass the whole of that book, but only some of the issues he discusses in it. Specifically, I shall consider what he has to say about such fundamental issues as substance, universals, relations, space, time, and intentionality. Since this study is thus limited, the bibliography is very short. Most of the references will be to The Mind and Its Place in Nature; and there will be only an occasional one to a few of his other writings as well as to some works of McTaggart whose influence, acknowledged by the author himself in the Preface to The Mind and Its Place in Nature is clearly discernible to anyone familiar with both their views on time. I shall not, however, attempt to provide detailed documentation of McTaggart's or, for that matter, of Russell's influence. In writing this monograph I benefited greatly from discussions with Gustav Bergmann. I also wish to thank my wife, Linda, for typing the original manuscript and for compiling the index. L. Nathan Oaklander Flint, Michigan USA November 2005

INTRODUCTION

T

his study investigates systematically some of the main ontological themes in C.D. Broad's The Mind and Its Place in Nature. Most crucial in his system is the role of time. Time is the ultimate basis of his division of Reality into Concreta (existents) and Abstracta (non-existents). What is in time exists; what is not in time does not exist. Another essential aspect of his view of time is his commitment to the objective status of the nonrelational temporal characteristics of pastness and presentness. Together with his view on change, this commitment implies as is argued in the first chapter, that certain indispensable propositions, which in his world are supposed to be timeless and changeless abstracta, collapse into concreta. The second chapter is concerned with Broad's analysis of perception. It explores some of the considerations that led him to the "Sensum Theory" as well as his attempt to secure what he himself takes to be part of what every such analysis must secure, namely, that all perception necessarily involves "whole" objects extended in space and time. It is argued that his attempt fails because on his analysis, "perceiving" would only be the apprehending of sensa, and not, as it would have to be, the intending either of "whole" objects or of propositions about them. Furthermore, the subjective items supposed to intend either his epistemological or his ontological objects, neither of which are really there, are bodily feelings which are intrinsically non-intentional. In the third chapter, on memory, the collapse of propositions into concreta returns with a vengeance. According to Broad, remembering involves propositions one of whose elements is the McTaggartian universal Pastness. This gets him into two predicaments he cannot resolve. Ontologically, it can be shown, such a proposition would be a concretum. Epistemologically, he insists, the characteristics of pastness and presentness are accessible to us only in the problematic way he calls categorial or neo-Kantian. In the fourth chapter the ontological status Broad gives to relations is explored. It turns out that the relations of his world are all universals which, together with other universals, are elements of propositions. That accommodates, at least after a fashion, such "ordinary" relations as, say, louder-than, but leaves no room for the "connections" between a concretum and an abstractum. Yet there are two connections of this sort such that, unless they can be accommodated, Broad's world falls apart. One is that of

2 Platonic participation, between a particular and its universal; the other, that between a mind and the proposition it judges. The fifth chapter, after reviewing the overall pattern of the themes selected, pursues the probe of the two gaps thus revealed: the one ontological, concerning participation; the other epistemological, concerning judgment. The result is that while a mind in Broad's world could "sense" something, it could not, strictly speaking "know" the quality of what it senses.

Chapter I PROPOSITIONS AND TIME

A

n adequate account of the place of mind in nature requires an assay of nature. Broad lays the foundations for such an assay when he divides reality or nature into two irreducible categories of existents and abstracta. Mind and matter are placed together in the realm of existents because they are both temporal entities; yet they are not just both placed in the realm of existents, they are often in close contact with each other, as for example when a mind perceives, remembers, or feels emotions toward a physical thing or event. There are, however, in addition to physical things and events, other objects the mind is closely connected with, objects which some have held to be neither mental nor material but, rather, to belong to the realm of abstracta, e.g., numbers, propositions, and the relations of such objects among themselves. Broad has said concerning our contact with such objects that, ...it is certainly arguable that a mind could go little if any distance in cognising objects which are physical or mental if it did not have the power of cognising objects which are neither.1

For Broad the mind has the capacity to come in contact with both existents and abstracta and thus we can expect that his account of the place of mind in nature will come to grips with some of the fundamental problems about mind. For instance, what is the feature or features in virtue of which mental items can intend or make reference to entities other than themselves, be they mental, physical, or neither mental nor physical. And what is the ontological status of the connection between a mental item (thought) and what it is about (its intention)? Is it like or unlike other relations? What is the ontological assay of the intentions of mental items? In particular, what is the ontological status of past, present, future, and non-existent objects? These problems must all be confronted. It is one of my main aims in this book to prove that though Broad does, after a fashion, face them, his answers are unsatisfactory and that he thus fails to provide an adequate place for mind in nature. In this chapter I shall be primarily concerned with Broad's analysis

4 of non-existent entities. More specifically, I shall be concerned with his notion of a proposition. First, I shall uncover his intellectual motivation for making propositions abstract entities. Then I shall examine his view on time and change. Finally, I shall show that, given his views on time and change, Broad's conception of an abstract proposition collapses into his conception of a concrete or particular existent. A convenient way of approaching Broad's notion of a proposition is to consider some of the reasons why philosophers introduced propositions and what they took them to be. One reason was to account for the independent and public nature of the objects of belief. Undeniably situations of the following kind occur again and again. One and the same person believes P at different times; different persons believe P at the same time; one person believes P while another disbelieves P at the same time; and so on. In all these situations there is, presumably, one and the same entity that is believed or disbelieved and this is supposed to be possible only if P is public and independent of the several judging situations. Hence, it is argued, the various beliefs and disbeliefs that P, occurring at various dates and in various minds, are all about the same proposition. Another reason for introducing propositions is derived from the nature of language. It is noted that different sentences, whether in the same or in different languages, can have a common content of meaning and express the same proposition—for example, "It is raining" and "Il pleut." Thus, so the argument goes, we must distinguish between a sentence, i.e., a concrete series of ink marks or noises made on occasion, and the sentence meaning or proposition which it is intended to express. A third reason for introducing propositions is derived from the phenomenological difference between contemplating a non-existent object, a griffin for example, and contemplating nothing. This difference must be accounted for. And it may also be argued that when one contemplates different things that do not exist, all these things must have some ontological status; otherwise one could not distinguish the situation of, say, contemplating a griffin, from that of contemplating either a centaur, or nothing at all. Therefore, so the argument goes, there are propositions, and propositions are entities of which it is true to say that they do not exist. Closely connected with the third, is a fourth reason that has been used to justify the reality of propositions. Propositions are required to account for the intentionality of judgment. That is, in believing and disbelieving, as in all other cognitive situations e.g., doubting, perceiving, wishing, etc., the mind refers to some object other than itself. When

5 believing, we always believe something. When doubting, we doubt something, and so on. When the belief is true, it is not difficult to supply an object believed. When, for example, I believe truly that "Nathan loves Linda" there exists a fact for my belief to be about. However, some beliefs are false; we may and often do believe that so and so is the case when actually it is not. In these cases of false belief, there certainly is no fact for the thought to be about; yet the belief is always about something. Propositions serve to guarantee an object for both veridical and nonveridical belief. Thus, one who accepts propositions may argue that in all judgmental situations the mind stands in a two-term asymmetric relation of judging to a proposition, which is either true or false. Conversely, if one wants to analyze all cases of judging as instances of a dyadic relation between a mind and an object judged, then he must either introduce propositions or some other device that will do the job. A (binary) relation as ordinarily conceived requires two relata. Propositions guarantee that the second relatum, i.e., the something which is believed, is always there. Moreover, if judging is dyadic rather than triadic or n-adic, one can infer a further characteristic of propositions. A proposition is peculiar in that it must be a One, a single entity, and must also be a complex. It must be a One because it is one of the two terms of the dyadic judging relation. It must be complex because it has more than one constituent; for even the simplest subject-predicate belief that "S is P" must include both S and P as constituents of the one proposition believed.2 Thus propositions would have to be both One and Many; or rather, simple and complex. How is this possible? Perhaps we can understand the unity and multiplicity of a proposition by supposing that in the judgment situation the mind unites the various constituents of a proposition into a single entity. There are two reasons why this explanation is insufficient. First, it is as difficult to explain how a mind can unite the constituents of a proposition as it is to explain how a One may have constituents. Second, since propositions are supposed to be objective entities, i.e., not dependent on the existence of a judging mind, one cannot consistently also hold that a proposition is the product of a mind combining its several elements into a One. An alternative account of the unity of propositions would be that there is, outside of minds, some kind of connection between its constituents, a kind of tie, as it were, that bundles the elements into an entity, or a One. On this view, one would represent the analysis of a judgmental-situation, by, say, Judging (M, α(S, P)), where α is the tie that connects the elements S and P

6 into a single, complex entity.3 A further feature of the traditional notion of a proposition is that it is timeless. That is to say, the truth or falsity of a proposition is completely independent of time. A proposition such as 2 plus 2 is 4 does not become true at the time we discover it nor does it cease to be true when we no longer think of it. Rather, its truth value is unchanging; not because it is true at every time, but because it is true independent of time. Let us now collect the characteristics every proposition must have. (1) It is, or at least may be, the intention of judgments. (2) It is public and independent of all judging situations. (3) It is the meaning of a sentence. (4) It is either true or false and because it is timeless, its truth value is unchanging. (5) It is internally complex although its "constituents" are somehow "tied together" to form a single entity. Broad's initial remarks concerning propositions4 are neutral as to whether or not they are part of reality. He merely specifies the features which propositions would possess if there are such entities. His remarks imply, however, that his notion of a proposition is the traditional one just described. For, according to Broad, if there are propositions then, (i) they are logical subjects, (ii) they are timeless and unchanging abstracta, and, (iii) they are single, yet complex entities. This is indeed the import of the following passage: If there be such entities as propositions they are certainly Abstracta and not Existents; yet it would seem that the only part which one proposition can play in another proposition is that of logical subject. E.g., if the sentence "Edwin will marry Angelina" stands for a single complex entity; a proposition, then it can only appear in such other proposition as: It is probable that Edwin will marry Angelina, or: Smith believes that Edwin will marry Angelina. And in these secondary propositions it is plain that the original proposition about Edwin and Angelina is present as a logical subject.5

And we are also told that, Abstracta of course do not exist, and neither are nor appear to be literally and directly in time. But some at least of them are very closely connected with existents, and thereby become indirectly connected with time.6

Although propositions are not directly in time, there must be some sort of connection between them and time; for propositions, like other abstracta, are often "in contact" with existents which, as such, are in time. Minds, for

7 instance, which are in time, believe propositions, which are not. According to Broad, there are two ways in which abstracta come in contact with existents and therefore, at least indirectly, with time. For one, abstracta “characterize” or are "about" or are "exemplified" by existents for another, abstracta are "thought of" or "intended by" existents. As Broad himself puts it, Certain qualities characterize certain things or events from time to time. Again, certain relations relate now one set of existents and now another. And many propositions are about things and events which exist in time. (b) Any Abstractum may from time to time become the object of someone's thought. The proposition that Charles I was beheaded is not in time directly and literally, as Charles I and the axe are; but it is connected indirectly in time, both because it is about temporal things and events and because I began to think of it a moment ago and shall cease to think of it a few minutes hence.7

The word "may," I submit, confirms the interpretation first offered. Broad takes abstracta such as qualities, numbers, and relations to be public entities independent of the judging or characterizing situations into which they may or may not enter. Abstracta are eternally "there" waiting either to be intended from time to time by one mind or another, or to be exemplified by some part of what exists. Broad thus acknowledges two ways, very different from each other, in which propositions may be connected with existents. A proposition may be "intended" by existents or (and) it may be "about" existents. For either of these two kinds of connection Broad's notion of a proposition raises two questions. First, how does a proposition become a single, complex entity? This question we have asked already. The second asks what "was" and "will" stand for in the propositions expressed by such sentences as "Edwin will marry Angelina" and "Charles was beheaded." Clearly, both answers will be but aspects of the answer to a more fundamental question: What exactly is a proposition? To this fundamental question there are, it seems to me, in Broad's world only two possible answers. Either a proposition is a cluster of abstracta, perhaps joined together by a nexus; or a proposition is a complex of existents and abstracta, perhaps also joined by a nexus. The main claim I hope to establish in this chapter is that upon Broad's views on time and change his propositions collapse upon either alternative into particular existents. Yet his ontology cannot, as we shall see, dispense with

8 propositions as abstracta. Thus, it, too, collapses on this ground alone. Let me next establish that in Broad's world propositions are real (i.e., either existents or abstracta). Consider, for example, the following passage from his chapter on memory: To remember a proposition of Euclid is no doubt to perform a genuine act of cognition; and the same is true of remembering events, persons, and places. But the first kind of act has an abstract and timeless object; whilst the second has a concrete particular object which exists in time.8

Furthermore, Broad is quite explicit in holding that the memory of propositions which are about historical figures of which we have learned (i.e., non-perceptual memory) must be distinguished from the mere memory of sentences. For him a proposition is the meaning of a sentence; is what a sentence expresses and is capable of being remembered. Again, to quote him, I remember Euclid I, 47 and his proof of it through having learnt it. But I certainly could not reproduce the words in my Euclid book; and I should recognise the proposition equally well if I now saw it stated for the first time in any foreign tongue that is known to me. Again, I might accurately reproduce a sentence without remembering a proposition. This might happen if I did not understand the sentence; e.g., if it were in Hebrew, a tongue which I do not understand though I can write the letters. Or it might happen even though I did understand the sentence when I learnt it, if I have now forgotten its meaning....It is, therefore, impossible to identify memory of propositions with memory of the sentences in which they were originally expressed....9

The most explicit and conclusive evidence that Broad gives ontological status to propositions occurs in his discussion of perceptual memory, i.e., the memory of particular events, places, persons, or things. He argues that the essential difference between perceptual situations, e.g., my seeing a bell, and perceptual memory situations, is that the intentions of the former are particulars whereas the intentions of the latter are propositions. The point is so important that I shall quote at length: It is true that we say both that we perceive objects and that we perceive propositions about objects. I see a tie, and I see that the tie is green. But the latter is regarded as dependent on the former. When I say that I perceive a tie I do not seem to mean merely that I know various propositions by perception, such as "This is green", "This is long and thin"; that all these

9 propositions have a common subject; and that the tie is known only as the common subject of all these perceptually known propositions. On the contrary I claim to be directly acquainted with a part of the tie; and the propositions which I claim to perceive about it seem to be "read off" from the object itself. ... Now, in spite of some appearances to the contrary I believe that the opposite is true of perceptual memory. I believe that what is primarily known by memory is propositions like "This was green", "This was long and thin", etc.; and that this is true both in positive and negative memory situations. Certain groups of such propositions are recognised to have a common subject; and the object is "remembered" only in so far as it is known as the common subject of such a group of remembered propositions.10

The passage shows that for Broad the intention of a perceptual memory judgment is a proposition. Since the other passages have shown that nonperceptual memory, too, is of propositions, it follows that for Broad, at least one constituent of any total memory situation will always be a proposition. That leaves no doubt that his propositions are entities. Suppose I have a non-veridical memory that the shirt I wore yesterday was blue. On Broad's view, what would be the intention of my mistaken memory? He makes no pronouncements on the issue. Nevertheless, given his claim that what is primarily known by memory are propositions, it would be fair, I think, to attribute to him the view that there are false propositions. But if we allow a distinction in his ontology between true and false propositions, we must of course dig deeper in order to see how he might distinguish these two kinds. And this question returns us to the first: What is a proposition? What, in particular, is the connection between a proposition and the object it is about? Does the subject of the propositions that "This was green" and "This was long and thin" stand for a particular existent or a cluster of abstracta? Does "was" stand for a genuine constituent of the proposition? All these questions must be answered if we are to understand Broad's notion of a proposition. But one cannot do this unless one first examines his view of time and change, as found in The Mind and Its Place in Nature. Commonsensically and non-ontologically speaking, ordinary things are continuants. This means that ordinary things, e.g., chairs, and tables, endure through time and remain the same through change. We speak of an apple first being green and then becoming yellow with the passage of time. Traditionally, philosophers have offered two different accounts of change. According to the first, the identity of an ordinary thing is grounded by an entity ‘in’ it—call this entity a literal continuant—which remains literally

10 the same through change. Epistemologically, it is easy to get the proponents of this view into trouble. If the only way to recognize identity of "substance" is by identity of qualities, then, if the qualities at two different moments are different, what reason does one have for asserting there is this "substance"? On the second view there is no such thing as a literal continuant, and therefore, in a sense, no change, i.e., one and the same entity first having a property, either relational or non-relational, and then losing it. Instead, there being only one apple or chair in the situation is accounted for by the spatio-temporal relations and lawful connections among the changeless (instantaneous) individuals ‘in’ the apple or chair. Perhaps the greatest weakness of this view is that it is phenomenologically false. Fortunately, my task here is not to adjudicate between these two views, but only to determine the one Broad opts for. In the introduction to The Mind and Its Place in Nature he acknowledges the continuant feature of ordinary things: ...it is quite reasonable to talk of "degrees of substantiality". Caeteris paribus, an existent is more of a substance the longer it lasts and the less dependent it is on anything else.11

Yet, though he stresses this feature of ordinary things, he does not think that their analysis yields a peculiar existent, over and above the successive slices which comprise an object's history that remains the same through change. This is confirmed by another passage: One feature that seems to be assumed is that a substance must last for a considerable time. In fact, whatever else it may be, it would seem that it is supposed to be at least a series of events having a certain kind of internal unity and continuity both causal and spatio-temporal, and lasting long enough for this unity to be fully manifested.12

Accordingly, a necessary condition of sameness through time is "identity" of causal and dispositional properties. Provided that the causal characteristics of higher order remain unaltered ... we tend to hold that the same substance is still existing.13

Broad also maintains that there is a close connection between the causal characteristics of an ordinary thing and its internal spatial or spatiotemporal structure: (a)...each causal property of a substance depends upon a certain non-causal

11 characteristics of its successive states, that so long as a causal property of a substance remains unchanged its successive states have the same determinate form of this non-causal characteristic and that when the causal property changes the later states of the substance have this non-causal characteristic in a different determinate form; and (b) that the non-causal characteristics on which the causal characteristics of substances depend are always certain types of internal spatial or spatio-temporal structure.14

In other words, the identity of a material substance is grounded in the identity of some general type of internal spatio-temporal structure. This structure in turn depends, at any one moment, on the size, shape and mutual distances of its minute parts as well as, temporally, on their motions. Put differently, the internal spatio-temporal structure of a thing depends on sizes, shapes, durations and spatio-temporal relations. But then what are these sizes, shapes and durations of? And what are the relations between? Here is the connection between Broad's criterion of identity through time and his version of "absolute" space and time. The sizes, shapes, and so on, are of and between particulars. Yet spatio-temporal qualities of particulars depend on or are founded upon the spatial and temporal positional qualities that they possess. Specifically, there are two second-order or determinable positional qualities, "being a time" and "being a place", and, falling under these determinables, a continuous one-dimensional order of determinate temporal positions, (…T1, T2, ...Ti...) on the one hand, as well as a continuous three-dimensional order of determinate spatial positions, (... P1, P2, ...Pj...) on the other.15 A set of particular existents whose temporal qualities vary continuously from one moment to another have a certain duration which depends on the relations between the temporal qualities which characterize the first and the last point-instance of the set. Similarly, the shape of a whole composed of particular existents with the same temporal position, whose spatial qualities vary continuously, depends on the relation between the spatial qualities which characterize the existents that form the boundary of the set. And finally, the various temporal, spatial, and spatio-temporal relations which characterize particulars are grounded in the determinate spatial and temporal positional qualities that characterize them.16 Broad summarizes this analysis in a passage I shall quote at length: We have assumed that there are spatial and temporal positional qualities, and that spatial and temporal relations depend on them. Thus our theory of Space and Time is absolute, in the sense that it is not purely relational. But

12 it is not absolute, in the sense that it makes the points of Space and the moments of Time to be existent substantives of a peculiar kind, as Newton's theory does. The only existent substantives which we assume are instantaneous punctiform particulars, which have determinate qualities of Spatial and Temporal Position and determinate forms of determinable Nonpositional Qualities. Certain sets of these form wholes which have qualities of shape, size, and duration, in virtue of the relations between their Positional Qualities.17

In summary, to say that a thing changes means, on Broad's view, that its history can be cut up into a series of adjacent short slices, and that two adjacent slices have characteristic qualitative agreements and disagreements. And, of course, the spatio-temporal position of each slice is grounded in the spatio-temporal positional qualities that characterize it. Another aspect of time and change that preoccupies Broad is their "direction." Time always "moves" or "flows" forward from earlier to later and never from later to earlier. E.g., the series of events beginning with say, my meeting my wife (m), then dating her (c), and then marrying her (h) has an intrinsic order. In this it is like a spatial series, but it also has an intrinsic direction. The events described form a temporal series because m is earlier than c, which in turn is earlier than h, from any point of view. If one can account for the direction of time, either ontologically or epistemologically, then one has also accounted for the direction of change. An apple's being first green, then red, then yellow, is one thing. Its being red first being in the future, then in the present, then in the past is quite another thing. Or, to say the same thing differently, to insist that there is a direction in time does not commit one to hold that futurity, presentness, and pastness are properties of events (and still less of course of timeless propositions), such that each event after having been future, becomes for a moment present, and then remains forever past. Of this more later. Broad, though, under the influence of McTaggart, remained fascinated by the latter's trio of alleged properties, futurity, presentness, and pastness. McTaggart’s influence, together with that of Aristotle's is probably why in The Mind and Its Place in Nature he still defends the view that "the future does not exist." In the chapter on memory we read: Queen Anne's death now precedes Queen Victoria's by so many years, and will do so for ever; but there was a time when Queen Anne's death preceded nothing. And, until Queen Victoria had died, Queen Anne's death stood in no relation whatever to the event which we now call "Queen Victoria's death". For there was then no such event; and an event cannot stand in any

13 relation to a mere nonentity.18

Closely connected with this concern is another. Broad's events undergo becoming. When becoming present, an event comes into existence; after coming into existence, it "continues" to exist. In other words, the past and the present do, but the future does not exist: It appears to me that, once an event has happened, it exists eternally; all that happens henceforth to it is that, as more and more events occur and take their permanent place in the ever-lengthening temporal order of the universe, it retreats into the more and more distant past.l9

Yet, taken literally, the notion of an event that “exists eternally” makes no sense in Broad's world. For to be eternal means to be timeless, whereas for him to exist means to be in time. What he must mean is that an event, when it once comes into being, exists at every moment thereafter.20 The argument offered for the existence of the past is its being presupposed by our temporal judgments: If an event ceased to exist as soon as it ceased to be present it plainly could no longer stand in any relation to anything. But, when we say that it is past, we imply that it does stand in the relation of temporal precedence to the present; moreover, we say that one past event precedes a second past event and follows a third. All such statements would be nonsensical if events ceased to exist when they ceased to be present.21

Now, if one assumes that future events do not exist until they have become, and that once an event has become it continues to exist, then, Broad holds, one can also account for the direction of change: [W]hen we say that the red section precedes the green section, we mean that there was a moment when the sum total of existence included the red event and did not include the green one, and that there was another moment at which the sum total of existence included all that was included at the first moment and also the green event.22

That leaves no doubt. In Broad's world, one essential feature of time and change is becoming, accounted for by the continual increase in the sum total of existents. Still another aspect of his views on time is here essential. What is his analysis of the tenses, i.e., of "is", "was", and "will be" in propositions such as "This is green," "This was green," and "This will be green," respectively? According to some philosophers, such as Russell, each of

14 these propositions, if true, expresses the timeless truth that "this is (timelessly) green," the different tenses merely indicating the different human standpoints from which it is viewed. That is, these philosophers analyze what the sentence "This was green" stands for so that, if it is true, there is a particular which timelessly exemplifies green and is timelessly earlier than another particular now intended. Similarly, the sentence "This will be green" is interpreted as saying that there is a particular which timelessly exemplifies green and is timelessly later than another now intended. Surely that needs elaboration. My purpose here, though, is not to defend, but merely to recall, the standard alternative assay. McTaggart and some others, have argued that "was (or pastness)" "is now (or presentness)," and "will be (or futurity)," are objective characteristics incapable of being analyzed in terms of "timeless predication," on the one hand, and temporal relations of states of mind and their objects, on the other. With respect to the past and present at any rate, Broad, in The Mind and Its Place in Nature, follows McTaggart.23 In The Mind and Its Place in Nature pastness is discussed in the context of certain epistemological problems about memory. One question is how do we come by the notion of pastness? If past events be never constituents of memory situations, or if at any rate they never manifest the characteristics of pastness as sensa manifest colours, etc., how do we come to have the notion of "pastness" at all?24

Had Broad thought that pastness was an analyzable notion, he might also have thought that we are able to form a concept of it without being acquainted with any particular that has it. For example, if one "knows" what it is for an event to precede another immediately, or, as one says, in the specious present, one may "conceive" of the past as consisting of all and only those events that immediately or remotely precede some present event. For Broad, however, ...the trouble is that pastness is certainly a simple characteristic, and that the peculiar characteristic which memory-images seem to have cannot be identified with pastness for reasons given above. At most this characteristic can be taken as a sign of pastness.25

The peculiar characteristic of memory-images in virtue of which we acquire the notion of pastness is supposed to be familiarity: Now we are so constituted that, when we are subjects of a cognitive

15 situation whose objective constituent manifests the characteristic of familiarity, we inevitably apply the concept of pastness; and, if we make an explicit judgment, it takes the form: "There was an event which had such and such empirical characteristics." Familiarity is an empirical characteristic and pastness is a categorial characteristic; but the former "means" the latter to such beings as we are...This is the only account that I can recommend of "how we come to have the notion of pastness at all".26

In other words, Broad is maintaining that when we say "This was green," the "was" stands for the categorial (i.e., non-presented) characteristic of pastness. The notion of the categorial which here appears, is inseparable from Broad's "neo-Kantian way out." Of this more later, with regard to perception at the end of the second chapter; with regard to memory, in connection with pastness, in the third. My purpose right now is merely to document Broad's commitment to a non-relational objective quality of pastness. There is good reason to believe that presentness is also construed as a non-relational objective characteristic of events. For he distinguishes between an entity's "being present" and an entity's "being presented"; i.e., between an entity's possessing the non-relational character, presentness and an entity's standing to something else in the relation of being presented to it. At least three passages support this explication. I think it is possible that when we say that an image is obviously present each time we remember a certain event we may only be justified in saying that it is presented each time, i.e., that it is an objective constituent of each situation and object of acquaintance.27

Again, ...it may be that co-presentedness, though a test for co-presence, is not an infallible test.28

Finally, he remarks, the objection to the realistic view of memory, that an event cannot be simultaneous with another and also succeed it, can be met: ...provided it is allowed to distinguish between presentness and presentedness and between co-presence and co-presentedness, to hold that the latter can occur without the former, and to hold that one and the same event can be presented at various times to the same mind.29

Thus, on Broad's view, "being present" cannot be analyzed as being

16 simultaneous with an act i.e., more precisely, with a particular, or the particular in the act, for presentness is a characteristic that an event acquires when it becomes, and becoming in no way depends on human awareness. The status of the future in this world is less clear. As we remember, it does not exist. Thus, there is good reason to suppose that unlike pastness and presentness, a characteristic futurity would not be real. Yet, we do think about the future and, when thinking about it, think about something. What, then, on Broad's view, is that something? In The Mind and Its Place in Nature, he does not say; in Scientific Thought he does: The only "constituents" of the judgment [it will rain], when it is made, are the characteristic—which has the kind of reality which universals possess—and the concept of becoming.30

What, then, we must ask is becoming? Furthermore, how does what it is analysed as fit into the world of The Mind and Its Place in Nature? How, for instance, does it connect with the series of temporal qualities...T1, T2, T3,. . .? Unless we are told, we cannot tell. Yet we need not pursue. For we have already established four main features of Broad's view on time and change which will permit me to do the job I have set out to do in this chapter, namely, to show that the propositions of The Mind and Its Place in Nature, are not, as its author inconsistently claims, abstracta, but, rather, structurally at least, particular existents. (1) (2) (3) (4)

The past and present exist; the future doesn't. Pastness and presentness are objective properties; the status of futurity is unclear. Becoming is an ontological aspect of time that accounts for its direction (and that of change). Time is absolute in that there is (at least) one series of non-relational temporal positional qualities in addition to temporal relations.

These are the four features. I return next to the question left open. There are, as we saw, two possible analyses of a proposition (pp. 6-7); which of these two does Broad embrace? A proposition may be a cluster of abstracta, perhaps joined together by a nexus; or it may be a complex of existents and abstracta, perhaps joined by a nexus. I shall next argue that Broad's views on time commit

17 him to the first alternative. His propositions are, or, perhaps better, must be clusters of abstracta. One part of the argument starts from a consideration of the following passages: Queen Anne's death now precedes Queen Victoria's by so many years, and will do so for ever; but there was a time when Queen Anne's death preceded nothing. And until Queen Victoria had died, Queen Anne’s death stood in no relation whatever to the event which we now call "Queen Victoria's death." For there was no such event; and an event cannot stand in any relation to a mere nonentity.31

In the last sentence the word "nonentity" must not be taken literally. For, if one takes it literally and thus to be synonymous with "having no ontological status," then Broad in calling future events nonentities, would commit himself to a thought about the future being about literally nothing, and, therefore, to propositions qua non-existent objects having no ontological status. But we have seen that his propositions, although not existents, are yet real. As for all propositions, so for those about the future. They are nonexistents, yet they have ontological status. Thus they are not "nonentities." I conclude that when Broad calls future events mere nonentities, what he means is that future events qua particular existents are nonentities—they are nothing because they have not yet become—without however meaning to deny that as thought about, qua clusters of abstracta they are entities, although of course not existents. That implies that a proposition about the future, at any rate, is a cluster of abstracta. If a Broadian proposition were not a cluster of abstracta it would have to be a complex of existents and abstracta. Upon this alternative though, his distinction between abstract propositions and concrete existents collapses altogether. Before explaining why it does, let me first note that Broad does sometimes speak as though propositions may contain existents. All existents, he says, are logical subjects, which, as he speaks, means that existents can occur only in the subject place of a proposition. In this regard, the following passage is relevant. Whatever exists can occur in a proposition only as a logical subject. Of course the name of an existent may appear in a sentence as a grammatical object and in other positions too. E.g., in the sentence "Smith dislikes Jones" the only grammatical subject is the word "Smith", and the word "Jones" counts as a grammatical object. Nevertheless, the men Smith and Jones are both logical subjects of the propositions for which this sentence stands.32

18 Another, especially revealing passage is the following: We can say that "The execution of Charles I was a political mistake" or that "It is probable that Edwin will marry Angelina". Here we have facts or propositions functioning as subjects of other propositions. And they cannot play any other part in a proposition. They are therefore substantives. But they do not exist (though they may contain existents as constituents); they merely subsist.33

If propositions may contain existents, then, given his views on time, propositions become existents. To see why this is so, consider the proposition that "This is green" where the word "this" stands for a particular existent. Since on his view the future does not exist, existents are at some times but not at others. How then can an existent be a constituent of a proposition that is supposed to be a timeless and changeless abstractum? How can a proposition contain what "this" stands for when what it stands for is at some times literally nothing? In other words, the proposition that "This is green" will first lack an existent and then forever contain one. But this is against the very notion of a proposition. For, if a proposition must change in this way then it is in an obvious sense in time and therefore, not an abstractum but itself an existent. The same point may be made in a slightly different way. Broad assumes that existence involves time. Now, if a proposition may literally contain existents, then it cannot be without reference to them. That is, it cannot be until the time when the existent it contains comes into existence. Thus, propositions which contain existents must become at the time at which the existent they contain becomes. But then, such a proposition is no longer an abstractum, i.e., the timeless entity that Broad intends it to be but, rather, itself an existent. Furthermore, since on his view all existents are particulars, it will follow that such propositions themselves are, or, as it was put, collapse into, particular existents. We may conclude that Broad must either reject his account of temporal becoming or deny that a proposition may contain particular existents. In what follows I shall assume that a proposition of The Mind and Its Place in Nature is a cluster of abstracta. What abstracta are contained in a proposition is not the only issue that here imposes itself. What is the connection between a proposition and the existent which it is about? First, though, what are those abstracta? Take

19 our old example, the proposition "This is green." What are its constituents? The word "green," I submit, refers to the abstractum greeness (G); but what do "this" and "is" refer to? Broad simply does not say what, if anything, connects the elements of a proposition, i.e., he does not say what "is" refers to. He does realize that a proposition is peculiar in that, being single, it is yet a complex entity,34 but he in no way elucidates how this is possible. Nor need we for our present purpose pursue the matter. But we can, and must, from what he says, specify a referent for "this." When a proposition is about a material existent, then the word "this" refers at a minimum to the dyadic cluster of a spatial and a temporal positional quality e.g., P1 and T1. Thus the proposition that "This is green" contains, at a minimum, the abstracta (P1,T1,G). The following passage supports this interpretation: We take the fundamental constituents of the material world to be instantaneous punctiform particulars, each of which has a determinate quality of Temporal Position, a determinate quality of Spatial Position, and determinate forms of one or more Non-Positional Qualities.35

Since every material particular existent is characterized by some Pj, Ti, and at least one non-positional quality, Fk, one cannot but conclude that in this world a proposition which is about a material particular existent, without of course containing it, does contain the cluster of the abstracta, positional and otherwise, that characterize it. For, if the proposition did not contain those abstracta, how could it possibly be about that existent? Turn now to the second issue: How does a proposition manage to be about an existent? More specifically, what is the "connection" between these two irreducibly different kinds? To answer the question we must first consider another. What, for Broad, is a particular existent? Since he thinks of particulars as irreducible to bundles of universals, he must assay them in one of two ways. Either particulars are mere individuators and, as such, supporters of qualities, or they have a qualitative aspect in virtue of which they are similar to other numerically diverse particulars. In other words, when he says that qualities and propositions are about particular existents, he must mean by a particular either a bare "this" or a cluster of perfect particulars.36 If a particular is a cluster of perfect particulars, the temporal determination in two simultaneous events is numerically different although qualitatively the same. Represent the abstract temporal positional qualities as ... T1, T2, ... Ti, . . .one might represent instances of, say, Ti as: ti1, t i2, . . . tij ... Similarly, two events "occupy" the "same" place at different times will each contain numerically diverse, though qualitatively the same,

20 spatial determinations, e.g., pj1, pj2, ... pji. Thus we would represent two simultaneous events by, say, (p11, t11, f 11), (p 21, t 12, f 21); and two events occurring at different times at the same place by, say, (p11, t 11, f 11), (p 12, t21, f21) with F1 and F2 being two non-positional abstracta, under which f11, and f21, fall or, synonymously, in which they participate. Is there sufficient evidence that Broad construes a particular as a cluster of quality instances? I submit that there is. In the first place, it allows one to reconcile certain otherwise incompatible statements about the status of qualities. On the one hand, he speaks of qualities as abstract universals that can be, even though they are neither intended by anyone nor characterize, an existent. That is, qualities are independent of particular existents. Of this line the following passage is typical: The quality redness is timeless; nevertheless it sometimes characterises one thing, sometimes another, and sometimes perhaps nothing at all. Again, it is sometimes thought of by me, sometimes by you, and sometimes perhaps by no one at all.37

On the other hand, he insists that the appearance or occurrence of sensible qualities is dependent on particular existents. That is, sensible qualities are dependent upon the arrangements of particles moving in certain ways; if certain existent particles are not there, certain sensible qualities will not be there either. Thus, in order to avoid the contradiction that qualities are both dependent and independent of existents, Broad must be equivocating on the term "quality." The only way to make him consistent is to attribute to him the view that, while "dependent" sense qualities are particulars, "independent" qualities are abstracta or Platonic universals.38 And, of course, as for non-positional qualities, so for the positional determinates. Assuming that Broad construes sensible qualities to be particulars one might expect him to hold that we always perceive particulars and never universals. In an article written five years before The Mind and Its Place in Nature he in fact articulates this position. Consider the following passages: It is clear that every immediate object of our senses both exists and is real in the primary meaning of these terms....For it seems to be a synthetic a priori proposition that anything of which we can be directly aware by our senses is both real and particular; and what is real and particular exists in the primary meaning of that word.39 If we are directly aware of a universal, it is the object of a thought, and it is clearly something real in the same sense in which a particular flash of light

21 is real when it is the object of our senses. It does not, however, exist, in the primary sense, because it is not a particular.40

In The Mind and Its Place in Nature, too, Broad, says that when sensing a sensum, e.g., a red patch, one is in a unique way related to a particular existent. Again, in the same book, in a different context: When I try to introspect the sensing of a noise or the feeling of a pang of toothache the only particular existents which are intuitively presented to me are the noise or the toothache and certain bodily feelings....41

Since a noise, a toothache, or a red patch obviously have some qualitative aspects, and since these entities are particulars, it follows that particulars are quality instances. Another reason why I believe that Broad's particulars are qualitied is based on the way he handles the problem of individuating mind in the chapter on the unity of the mind. There he says that a mental event is, at least, a particular existent characterized by a mental quality, e.g., tiredness, and a temporal position. This raises the following problem: It is logically possible for there to be two contemporary mental events which have the same determinate form of the same Mental Quality (e.g., it is logically possible that there might be two precisely similar contemporary thoughts of the same object....42

Now, if the particular existent "in" a mental event is a bare particular then the question of individuating two contemporary thoughts about the same object can be answered by saying that they each belong to a numerically diverse particulars, or as they are also called, pure egos. Yet Broad does not take this way out for he holds that in addition to spatial and temporal positions there are mental positions, and the latter individuate two minds thinking about the same thing at the same time. As he says: We must suppose that every mental event is an instantaneous particular which has a certain determinate Temporal Position; and two mental events may agree in every other respect, provided that they differ in Mental Position but they must have different determinate forms of one or other of these Positional Qualities.43

If a peculiar existent is a bare particular, a mere individuator and support of qualities, then mental positional qualities would be wholly unnecessary for individuation. Since Broad stresses the need for mental positions to solve

22 the individuation problem it follows that his particulars are not bare, but quality instances or perfect particulars such as "this pain," "this mental position," "this time," and so on. I conclude that in Broad's ontology there are quality instances or perfect particulars and Platonic universals. Broad's world, if I am right, is one of (Platonic) universals on the one hand and of (perfect) particulars on the other. How, then, do these two major categories get together? The extreme difficulty of answering this question can be brought out by reflecting on the two realms that need to be joined. The world of (temporal) existents contains the particular persons, places, things, and events that we become aware of by means of our senses. The world or realm of (timeless) abstracta, on the other hand, does not consist of sensible items, but of entities that can only be "reached" by thought. How, then, is "this red" which I see connected to the universal which I can think about? Is the connection an existent, an abstractum, or neither? If the latter, how can it have a place in the world of The Mind and Its Place in Nature? Unfortunately, there is in The Mind and Its Place in Nature no systematic investigation of this "connection." (To a few more or less casual remarks I shall attend presently.) Thus, systematically, these two very major categories, of existents and of abstracta, remain in his ontology forever disjoined. The gap is so striking that we must try to account for it, even though, in the nature of things, any such account cannot be but structural and thus must remain speculative. I shall next present such an account, then try to support it by attending to the casual remarks just mentioned. Broad became and always remained an anti-Humean and substantialist with respect to causation. This, commitment, at the very center of his position, is not only implicit but most explicit in most of his works. So I shall not interrupt the main line of argument in order to demonstrate once more what I take to be quite uncontroversial. Specifically, I thus take it for granted that the cause of a certain particular being there as well as of its being what it is, is in his world always a substance, or substances. This causal context, however, is quite different from another, call it for the moment the ontological one, in which one inquires how, quite irrespectively of why it is there and what it is, a particular manages to be what it is rather than something else. Broad's impassioned anti-Humeanism in the causal context caused him virtually to ignore the ontological context. That is how I propose to account for the amazing gap. Even so, there are two casual remarks from which one could argue—not at all implausibly in the case of a man so

23 deeply steeped in the tradition—that the ontological context is pushed back, or perhaps repressed, rather than forgotten. In the chapter in which he discusses the two forms of what he calls the Pure Ego Theory one finds the following passage: On the first theory, the Pure Ego is characterised directly by tiredness; on the second theory, the Pure Ego has to the quality of tiredness a compound relation which is the logical product of the two relations of "owning" and "being characterised by." For, on the second theory, the Pure Ego owns something which is characterised by tirednesss.44

Another such passage occurs in the chapter on memory: The quality of redness is timeless; nevertheless it sometimes characterises one thing, sometimes another, and sometimes perhaps nothing at all. ... Thus even the timeless may acquire certain additional relational properties through the happening of new events; and precisely the same is true of the past.45

A quality is here said to "characterize" a particular, and "characterization" is considered to be an "asymmetrical relation." Considering the last passage, one may wonder whether I haven't gone too far. Isn't "participation" there, at least in principle, under a different name, even though, admittedly it suffers from benevolent neglect in The Mind and Its Place in Nature and perhaps also in other works? I don't think so. The reason I don't is that, unless we are told more, we cannot but suppose that such relations as "being characterized by green," "being characterised by T1" and so on, are themselves abstracta. How, we must therefore ask, do these universals manage to connect with the "dependent" particulars which are thus "characterized" upon coming into being. Clearly, either we stand at the beginning of an infinite regress or these peculiar "relations" are not really ordinary relations in either the one or the other of the two disjointed realms but, rather, with or without the benefit of the name, Platonic participation. And of this we are not given the slightest inkling anywhere. But, again, we need not pursue the matter; for we have already (I hope) established the three prerequisites needed to arrive at the conclusion which I have undertaken to establish in this chapter. (I)

A Broadian proposition is a cluster of universals, with or with out a tie thrown in. E.g., (Gr, Ti, Pj) is such a cluster. What "corresponds" to it (if anything does) is a cluster of three

24 perfect particulars, say, (gr1, tij, pji), which is his assay of the existent in such cases. (II) The “connection” between the two clusters is participation. In the example above, gr1, participates in Gr, tij in Ti, pji in Pj. (III) Pastness and, presumably, presentness are simple characteristics. Whether or not they are categorial, or, as he also says, non-empirical, which is an epistemological feature, makes no difference to the explication of his ontology here proposed. The status of futurity is clouded, but again, we need not at this point explore it. These are the premises; the conclusion to be drawn from them is that (IVa) Broad's propositions collapse into particulars. But even if they didn't he would, a la McTaggart, be faced by (IVb) an infinite regress of time dimensions. By III, pastness and presentness are simple categorial characteristics. Now pastness and presentness are either universals or particulars. Assume that they are universals and consider the following two propositions about one and the same event: "This is red" and "This was red." The assays will yield the following abstracta: clusters (Pj, Ti, R, Pr) and (Pj, Ti, R, Pt). Unfortunately though, the two propositions are incompatible; the only way to make them compatible is to specify the times at which the one and the other are true. Before the single event which allegedly they are both about has become they are both false; at the moment the event becomes the one containing Pr becomes true; the other containing Pt, false; at the next moment and from there on, the latter becomes true, while the former from then on remains false. But this apparent way out implies that either of these propositions, true at one time and false at another, does not have a "timeless" truth value. Or, to say the same thing differently, if pastness and presentness are universals then propositions are in time and therefore, upon Broad's criterion of existence, not abstracta but existents. That establishes IVa. If there are two universals Pt and Pr, then there are in this world also the corresponding perfect particulars (and conversely). From this an infinite regress of time series ensues as follows. Each event contains a particular presentness and a particular pastness. This, though, is intelligible only if it first contains the presentness and then the pastness. Hence, there must be a series of moments at which events become present and then become past. But with becoming and time being essential to each other, members of the series of moments at which events become first present

25 and then past, which requires a second series, or, as I put it, dimension of moments and so on. That establishes (IVb). The only other alternative which preserves at least Broad's series of i T that he has not chosen and would, if offered it, reject as counterstructural within his schema, is the "solution" wherein there are no such entities as pastness, presentness, and futurity; "is," whatever it may or may not stand for, is construed as timeless; properties are analyzed as binary relations; binary relations as ternary ones, and so on. E.g., "something being green" would have to be assayed as "something being green at some time," something being louder than something else as "something being louder than something else at some time," and so on. I restate in conclusion the gist of what I hope to have shown in this chapter. (I) Broad's propositions are complexes (clusters) of abstracta only. (II) If pastness and presentness are admitted as simple characteristics into his world, his propositions become existents and an infinite regress of time series ensues.

26 NOTES CHAPTER I 1. 2.

3.

4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13.

14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23.

C. D. Broad, The Mind and Its Place in Nature (hereafter referred to as MPN), (Eighth impression; London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, Ltd., 1968), p. 5. This does not commit one to the view that the proposition expressed by "Jones is bald" contains the individual Jones as a constituent. There must, however, be some complexity in the proposition to account for its being in some sense the same and in some sense different from the proposition expressed by “Smith is bald.” It is not clear that the introduction of a tie will solve the problem for which it was introduced. Either the tie is a constituent of the proposition believed or it is not. If it is not then how can it "make" two entities into One? If it is a constituent, then we still seem to face our original problem. If the intention of the belief that S is P is α (S, P) how can this complex be a single entity, i.e., one of the two terms of the judging relation? This, though, is a difficulty of a more general nature; for it raises the question, how, quite independently of minds, several entities could each "make" or "combine into" One. MPN, pp. 19-20. MPN, p. 19; italics added. MPN, pp. 19-20. MPN, p. 20, italics added. MPN, p. 221. MPN, pp. 272-273. MPN, pp. 247-48; italics added. MPN, p. 31. MPN, p. 28; cf. p. 278. MPN, pp. 434-35. A causal property of a wire ring, for example, would be its "...inherent tendency to assume an elliptical state of such and such eccentricity when squeezed in such and such a way, and...to assume the circular form when left alone." (MPN p. 432). MPN, pp. 434-35. I ignore, as one safely may, the three dimensionality, by using only one superscript. MPN, pp. 595-96. MPN, pp. 597-98. MPN, p. 256, italics added. MPN, p. 252. Nor does this rewording get around the difficulty, which McTaggart could not overcome, of a temporal feature being "in" time. But of that, too, later. MPN, p. 252. C.D. Broad, Scientific Thought (New Jersey: Littlefield, Adams & Co., 1959), p. 67; originally published in 1923. It is worth mentioning that in Broad's first musings about time and the McTaggart triad he was firmly entrenched in the Russellian camp. See, for

27

24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36.

37. 38.

39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45.

example, his article entitled "Time," The Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, ed. James Hastings, (New York: Charles Scribner's and Sons, 1968), vol. XII, pp. 334-45; originally published in 1918. MPN, p. 264. MPN, p. 264; italics added. MPN, pp. 266-67. MPN, p. 254. MPN, p. 255. MPN, p. 256. Scientific Thought, p. 77. MPN, p. 256. MPN, pp. 18-19. MPN, p. 559; italics added. MPN, p. 19. MPN, pp. 593-94. The currently more familiar term, coined by D. C. Williams, for qualities that are numerically different in all their instantiations is “tropes” (see “The Elements of Being: I,” Review of Metaphysics, 7 (1953): 3-18). Although the term “trope” is new, the notion of a quality instance or perfect particular is not new, but has a long history; at least as far back as Plato and found in Aristotle, Brentano and Stout among many others. MPN, p. 257. I refer to Broad's universals as "Platonic" because they are abstract, and the realm of abstracta, or as he also calls it, subsistents, seems to correspond to Plato's world of forms. For, "the realm of Abstracta as such, forms the inexhaustible subject matter of the a priori sciences of Pure Logic and Pure Mathematics." (MPN, p. 20). C.D. Broad, "Reality," The Encyclopedia of Religion and Ethics, vol. XI, p. 558. Ibid., p. 558. MPN, p. 309. MPN, p. 599. MPN, p. 599. MPN, p. 563. MPN, p. 257; italics added.

Chapter II INTENTIONALITY AND SPACE IN PERCEPTION

G

iven Broad's view of pastness, presentness and becoming, propositions become time bound particular existents. This we just saw. A related flaw greatly weakening his ontology is that even if his propositions are the timeless entities he intends them to be, he fails to explore how they in particular, and abstracta in general, get connected with existents. In other words, he never makes clear what is involved either in an abstractum "characterizing" an existent or in an existent "intending" one. In this chapter we shall be concerned with Broad's account of the connection between those particular existents which are minds and what they are about. In particular, we shall be concerned with his analysis of the perceptual situation. In this context we shall be able to raise such questions as: (a) how does he attempt to ground our intending physical objects; (b) what is the nature and status of the connection between a thought and its intention; and (c) how does he attempt to secure our knowledge of the nature and existence of the external world? Broad starts his analysis of the mind’s knowledge of matter through sense perception with a set of supposedly commonsensical claims concerning "facts" everyone would accept. If they were commonsensical, they would indeed provide a framework within which any adequate account of perceptual knowledge must move. But I shall argue, in the first of the four sections of this chapter, that some of these "facts" are biased, or, at least, that the manner in which he states them is biased, insinuating his own analysis of the perceptual situation, which is not at all commonsensical. In the second section I shall show that some of the commonsense truths about perception which according to Broad must be accounted for, cannot be accounted for on his analysis. Then in the third section I shall examine his views on space and time and conclude, fourth, with an appraisal of his way out of his many difficulties.

30 I According to Broad, everyone will admit that there are perceptual situations, commonly expressed by such phrases as "I am seeing a chair" or "I am hearing a bell," which clearly differ from others, commonly expressed by such phrases as "I feel cross" or "I feel tired." The difference he tells us is that perceptual situations do while feeling situations do not refer to something other than ourselves and our states. The point is made as follows: When we feel cross we are not feeling something but are feeling somehow. When we hear a bell we no doubt are feeling somehow, but the important point about the perceptual situation is that we claim to be in cognitive contact with something other than ourselves and our states. This claim is just as obvious in those perceptual situations which are commonly believed to be delusive as in those which are commonly believed to be veridical.1

As the last sentence implies, the things which perceptions intend, or to which they refer, need not exist in order to be intended or referred to. In other words, even in those cases where what is intended does not exist, perceptual situations are intentional. Supposedly still in accordance with what everyone will accept, Broad accounts for perception also in cases of existential error being about something by saying that "all perceptual situations necessarily have epistemological objects."2 Then he continues: In order to know what is the epistemological object of any situation it is only necessary to know the meaning of this substantive-word in the phrase which expresses the situation. In order to know whether the situation has an ontological as well as an epistemological object it is plainly not enough to consider the meaning of words; the question can be settled only, if at all, by a careful enquiry into the nature and connexions of things.3

The passage makes three points: (i) we perceive things and not facts, (ii) the intention of a perceptual situation is a whole object, (iii) there is a distinction between epistemological and ontological objects. In cases of existential error there is an epistemological object but no ontological object corresponding to it. ...some bright spirit will at once complain that the pink-rat situation has no object. What he really means is of course that there is no ontological object, corresponding to the epistemological object which the situation certainly

31 has; i.e., that the situation involves a certain claim which the physical world refuses to meet.4

According to Broad, then, everyone would admit that veridical perceptual situations involve two objects, while non-veridical ones involve only one.5 Clearly, this is not neutral; nor would it be accepted by everyone; for it covertly insinuates Broad's own analysis of the perceptual situation. In the first place, his distinction between epistemological and ontological objects, jointly with the claim that every perceptual situation has an epistemological object, commits one to analyzing all perceptual situations as involving a (descriptive) intentional relation between an (existing) subject and an (existing) object. Thus, it is supposed to be common sense that every perceptual situation involves a relation between two existents. In the second place, by holding that the ontological object is the physical object which in veridical perception corresponds to the epistemological object, he virtually commits himself to the doctrine of representative realism. The epistemological object represents the ontological object; the former which is the immediate object always exists; the latter, which is the mediate object, may or may not exist. Why does Broad covertly assume that representationalism is common sense? He takes it for granted that every intelligent person believes the external world to be what science tells us it is. This is the first step. He also believes that the scientific description of the external world commits one to representationalism. This is the second step. The third step is of course that the covert representationalism is supposed to be just common sense. To give credibility to this diagnosis I will first bring out his scientific bias and then show once more how this bias leads one to take representationalism for granted. First of all, there is the distinction between perceptual (physical) objects on the one hand, and (theoretical) physical objects on the other. A perceptual object is what one in fact perceives when perceiving a chair or an apple; these objects have colors, odors, and so on. Theoretical objects, mentioned in the scientific description of chairs, tables, colors, sounds, and so on, are atoms, molecules, electrons, and so on. Broad lists five characteristics a thing must possess if it is to be a "physical" object. (1) A physical object continues to exist for a time which is longer than that of our specious present. (2) It is literally extended in space. (3) It is independent of perception. (4) It is public. (5) It has qualities besides size, shape, duration, etc., some of which may never be perceived.6 Reflection shows that each of these characteristics is possessed by both theoretical and perceptual

32 objects. From what has been said so far, one can therefore not infer the preeminence of either of these two possible kinds of "physical" objects, which one must distinguish if one wants to avoid the danger of inadvertently attributing ontological preeminence to either one or the other. Broad's physical objects, by the first of the five criteria above, are, if I may so put it, "more" substantial than those of "common sense." For they are electrons rather then human bodies, molecules rather than chairs, and so on, and the latter are more "stable" than, the former. Just consider the following passages: ...the typical material substances of ordinary life, viz., human bodies, chairs, trees etc., are only imperfectly substantial, since they are transitory and incapable of existing in isolation.7 But might we not say that some things which are much smaller than the material substances of daily life, viz., molecules, atoms, electrons, etc., can claim a very high degree of substantiality?8 I should say that, at the stages of molecules, atoms, and electrons, we come across genuine natural units each of which may fairly claim a high degree of substantiality.9

It does not strictly follow, yet it seems reasonable to conjecture that the ontological objects of this world are those I called theoretical objects. How then about epistemological objects? What and where are they? And, last but not least, what about space and time? Are there two "spaces" and two "times," one ontological, one epistemological, as it were; or is there only one? Much will hang on the answer to the second question. For the moment, though, a simple passage will suffice to convey the flavor of the discussion. ...the spatio-temporal parts of a material substance are themselves material substances; e.g., the molecules of a gas are as good material substances as the gas itself. And the relations of the parts of a material substance within it are analogous to the relations of this material substance to another which is outside it. E.g., the relations of the molecules of a bit of dust to each other are geometrically and mechanically analogous to the relations of a number of bits of dust dancing about in the air.10

For two relations to be "geometrically and mechanically analogous" is not to be one and the same. Yet, if one considers them in contrast with

33 the so-called secondary qualities, it would seem that the balance is tilted toward the sameness of his spaces. For Broad's "physical" objects do not, like "sensa," have secondary qualities. Just consider the following passage: ...it is neither necessary nor useful to ascribe to these permanent conditions anything analogous to the colour and the temperature which we find in sensa. It has been found more expedient to correlate the colours and temperatures of sensa with certain kinds of motion of certain kinds of microscopic parts of their permanent conditions.11

Again, ...whilst it is not impossible that physical objects may literally have colours and temperatures, there is not the slightest reason to believe that they do.12

Most naturally, we have finally come upon the key word, "sensa." Let us see how it leads on. Broad's ontological objects, or at least, his fundamental and most perfectly substantial ones are electrons, atoms, and so on. These objects have only primary qualities, including spatial and temporal ones, but no secondary ones. Sensa, on the other hand, irrespective of whether or not they are "in" literally the same space and time with physical objects, are inseparable from secondary qualities. Structurally as well as historically, that is the very heart of the notion of a sensum. Where then are the sensa of this world and what are its epistemological objects? The answers are not easy to come by. In any world in which there are sensa, these entities inevitably are, in some very close sense, parts or constituents of its perceptual objects. In Broad's world, therefore, where they are excluded from the realm of ontological objects, all of which have primary qualities only, but in which there are epistemological objects, they are part of the latter. Where then are his sensa? There are two alternatives. Either they are in the mind or they are in a third realm distinct from both the physical and the mental. As we shall see, he opts for the latter alternative. Sensa, themselves neither physical nor mental, represent to the mind what is physical. We see now why and how a familiar scientific bias affects Broad's statement of his "commonsensical" truths about perception. His distinction between the epistemological and the ontological object reflects the distinction between the immediate and the mediate object of perception, or, more bluntly, the distinction between sensum and physical object, which is characteristic of representationalism. Nor is it difficult to state Broad's "com-

34 monsensical" truths in a manner less prejudicial. (1) There is a difference between the perceptual situations usually called veridical and nonveridical, respectively. (2) The complete description of a perceptual state of affairs must include a statement of what it is the perceiving of. (3) In the veridical case, the object perceived extends through space and time beyond the perceptual situation. We may safely agree that an adequate ontological description or analysis of perception must accommodate these three truths. Still another such truth that must be ontologically secured by an adequate analysis insists on the difference between perceptual intending on the one hand and other "cognitive" situations, such as believing, thinking, remembering and so on, on the other. Broad himself faces this difference when he compares the two situations commonly expressed by "I am hearing a bell" and "I am thinking of a bell," respectively. The epistemological objects of the two situations which are expressed by these two phrases are both of the physical kind; they might, so far as one can see, even be identical. But every one recognises that there is a deep difference between the situations.13

He goes on to say: I will express this difference by saying that a perceptual situation is "intuitive", whilst a thought-situation with the same kind of epistemological object is "discursive".14

That of course merely names the distinction. What is meant is, perhaps, that in a perceptual situation one is presented with particulars and not, as in a thought situation, with propositions. But that, too is not an unweighted account of what everybody would believe about perceptual situations: it merely paves the way for his own analysis, according to which what one perceives is a particular existent. Finally, according to Broad, everyone would also admit that all perceptual situations are sensuous, i.e., that sensations play a peculiar and indispensable role in them. What he means by sensation he begins to unpack as follows: Such statements as "I am aware of a red flash", "I am aware of a squeaky noise", and so on, are certainly sometimes true; and they express a kind of situation which is perfectly familiar to everyone. Whenever such a statement is true, there exists a sensation.15

35 Eventually, we shall see that, as he used the word, a sensation is a complex consisting of an act of sensing related by an asymmetrical intentional relation, called "intuitive apprehension," to a sensum. Summing up the points on which allegedly everyone is agreed, Broad once again foreshadows his own analysis: There certainly are perceptual situations; they are intuitive and sensuous and they have epistemological objects of the physical kind which are given as simultaneous with the situation itself. This is of course neither a definition of the perceptual situation nor an analysis of it; it is simply a set of propositions which are admittedly all true of perceptual situations and not all true of anything else.16

If the epistemological object is "given as simultaneous with the situation itself," it is plausibly a sensum. Phenomenologically however, the epistemological object is not a sensum but a perceptual object, extended in time. What is thus insinuated is an analysis of the perceptual situation in terms of a descriptive relation between an act and a simultaneous sensum, and, in addition, an "external reference," beyond the sensum, to a whole object. In the next section I shall argue that Broad fails to ground not only our awareness of whole perceptual objects but also, much more damagingly, our intending anything. II The analysis proper of perceptual situations begins with the statement of another view supposedly suggested by both language and common sense. The typical linguistic expression for a perceptual situation, such as "I see a bell," suggests that the perceptual situation ...consists of me and the physical object whose name appears in the phrase, related directly by an asymmetrical two-term relation which is indicated by the verb.17

Next it is argued that, even before perceptual error is considered, the naive view that a whole object is a constituent of the situation must be either abandoned or at least considerably modified. The argument starts from three claims (a) The perceiver is not aware of the far side of the bell in the same sense he is aware of the near side facing him. (b) He is not aware of

36 the parts of the bell's history which are not contemporaneous with the perceptual situation in the same sense that he is aware of the parts that are. (c) He is not aware of certain properties of the bell, such as its hardness in the same sense that he is aware of certain other properties, such as its color.18 In each of these cases it is admitted that the constituent of the perceptual situation may be a part of the bell, but "bell" we are told, means: ...something which has a closed surface with an inside as well as an outside, and not merely a patch with indefinite boundaries.19

as well as, ...something which certainly may, and almost certainly does, stretch out in time beyond the limits of the perceptual situation in which I am aware of it.20

and ...something more than a coloured surface, more than a cold hard surface, and so on.21

From this Broad concludes that, contrary to the naive view, the bell is not a constituent of the situation, although the constituent may be a spatial, temporal and qualitative part of the bell. The conclusion is important, so I quote it at length: Thus we are forced to modify the first naїve analysis of "I see a bell" at least in the following respects: We cannot hold that this situation literally contains the bell itself as a constituent. The most we can say is that the situation contains me and something related by an asymmetrical two-term relation; that this something is in fact a part of a larger surface, and is also a short slice of a larger strand of history; that it has in fact other qualities beside those which are sensuously revealed to me in this situation; and that this spatially larger and temporally larger whole, with the qualities which are not revealed sensuously in this situation, is a certain bell. The whole is the epistemological object of the situation expressed by the phrase "I am seeing the bell."22

Once again, the main point is that the perceptual situation expressed by "I see a bell" does not and could not contain as a constituent anything denoted by the word "bell." To me it seems that Broad's conclusion is false and that his argument

37 to show that it is true is a non-sequitur. It is perfectly true that by "bell" we mean something which has an inside as well as an outside; it is also true that when I look at a bell I can at any moment see only a part of its surface and so on. But all this is trivial. "Seeing a bell" or "touching a bell” does not mean simultaneously seeing or touching all its surface. From the fact that we do not see or touch all the surface of an object it does not follow that we are not seeing or touching the object. Again, a bell is something which has a duration that is longer than a specious present. But it does not follow from our being unable to see an object before or after we see it, that the whole object is not a constituent of the situation in which we do see it. It is quite correct to say, at least in veridical situations, that the whole object is intended. The mistake in Broad's argument can be pinned down by making a distinction between two kinds of perceiving. On the one hand there is the kind of perceiving involved in situations whose intentions are small sized and short-lived temporal fragments of the whole object. Call this perceiving1. On the other hand, there is also the kind of perceiving, different from perceiving1, which is of the whole object. Call this perceiving2. Broad, when arguing that since we are not "aware of" the remote spatial and temporal parts of the whole object perceived we can only be "aware of" a certain small part of the whole, means by "being aware of" perceiving1. But to insist at this point that the perceptual situation in general involves only the subject, a relation and the intentions of perceiving1, situations is mistaken. For the objects of perceiving2 situations, although certainly not the objects of perceiving1 situations are, just as certainly, at least in veridical cases, the intentions involved. Although he rejects the view that perceptual situations contain entire objects Broad realizes that phenomenologically we are aware of whole objects; that is indeed why he insists that all perceptual situations have epistemological objects. So he has a problem. If the objective constituent of a perceiving situation is only a spatio-temporal fragment of the whole object, how can one account for this phenomenological truth? The difficulty he faces may also be stated as follows: on the one hand (he holds) the objective constituent of a perceptual situation cannot be the whole object; on the other hand, if the phenomenological awareness of a whole object is to be secured, then this assay of the situation must somehow include the whole object. In other words, he must attempt to analyze the perceptual situation so that perceiving the whole can be accounted for without perceiving2. I shall next state what Broad does, and then argue that it is inadequate.

38 The proposed analysis of the perceptual situation has two main features. There is, first, an act of sensing, standing in an asymmetrical relation to an objective constituent. This "act" of sensing is a mass of general bodily feelings. The objective constituent is a certain sensum, i.e., a private object of the third realm, such that the perceivers' judgments about it must be considered infallible, and that, even in cases of existential perceptual error, it is connected with the "act" by a (descriptive) asymmetrical relation called "intuitive apprehension," whose terms are sensa, on the one hand, and a certain mass of bodily feelings on the other. In the section "The Subjective Factors in Perceptual Situations" Broad states this part of his analysis as follows: A reflective observer, considering one of his own perceptual situations after it has ceased...would probably propose the following analysis of it. (i) An objective constituent, having certain sensible qualities and forming a differentiated part of a wider sense-field. (ii) A subjective constituent, consisting of a mass of bodily feeling, emotion, etc. (iii) The fact that this objective constituent is intuitively apprehended by the percipient. (iv) The fact that the percipient, who intuitively apprehends the objective constituent and feels the emotions and bodily feelings, has certain non-inferential beliefs about the objective constituent which go beyond anything that is intuitively apprehended in the situation.23

(iv) is what Broad calls the "external reference." By virtue of its external reference a perceptual situation has the epistemological object it does have. In other words, if it were not for this non-inferential belief, we would not perceive the whole object. Obviously, this is a fundamental feature of his analysis, so let us examine it more closely. Let us look at some statements which purport to specify what precisely we non-inferentially believe, or are convinced of: This is the conviction that this particular something is not isolated and selfsubsistent, and is not completely revealed in all its qualities; but that it is spatio-temporally a part of a larger whole of a certain characteristic kind, viz., a certain physical object, and that this whole has other qualities besides those which are sensuously manifested in the perceptual situation. Let us call the constituent about which we believe these propositions "the objective constituent of the perceptual situation". And let us call the conviction which we have about the objective constituent "the external reference of the situation".24 I am inclined to think that the quasi-belief about the objective constitu-

39 ent...consists in the fact that certain specific bodily feelings (connected with the automatic adjustment of the body), certain emotions, and certain feelings of expectation, are related in an unique way to the apprehended sensum.25

Ontologically, if that means anything, that means three things. It means, first, that there are on the side of the object, or, if you prefer putting it this way, on the side of the intention, a sensum called the objective constituent, as well as some propositions, at least one, about some connection or connections between the objective constituent and the "whole object." It means, second, on the side of the subject, a set of general and specific bodily feelings, emotions, expectations, and so on. Call for the moment this act the (subjective) mass. It means, third, that the relation of believing obtains between this mass, on the one hand, and those propositions, on the other, as well as, presumably, that there is a (relational) apprehending, whose (objective) term is the sensum, which in the context is called the objective constituent. Since phenomenologically the situation is of course not so articulate, one can understand that Broad speaks of a quasi-belief about the sensum. If the "whole object" in the case is the physical (ontological) object rather than, whatever that may be, a "whole" epistemological object, how do we manage to intend the physical object? We shall see that Broad's neo-Kantian turn is supposed to provide the answer. Yet, when examining this turn, we shall also see that it really doesn't. So we shall be puzzled indeed. Another puzzle we are ready to spot right now. The belief in the case consists in a relation, not between the mass and a proposition about the sensum's connection with whatever "whole" it is connected with, but, rather, between the mass and the sensum itself. Nor does Broad disagree with this reading. Quite to the contrary. Look at the following passages: ...the belief which constitutes the external reference of a perceptual situation...can only be called a “belief” by courtesy. We can only say that a man in a perceptual situation acts, adjusts his body, and feels certain emotions; and that these actions, adjustments, and emotions are such as would be reasonable if he were explicitly making such and such judgments, which he does not in fact make as a rule at the time.26 When a sensum of a specific kind is intuitively apprehended certain traces are excited; these arouse certain emotions and induce certain bodily adjustments which are accompanied by specific bodily feelings....These "mnemic consequences" of the apprehension of a sensum do not just coexist with it; they immediately enter into a specific kind of relation to it,

40 which I do not know how to analyse further. And these "mnemic consequences" in this specific relation to this intuitively apprehended sensum constitute the quasi-belief about the sensum, which gives the situation its specific External Reference.27

One cannot really get a feeling for what is happening here unless one remembers the doctrines of classical psychology. In some psychophysiological sense there may even be a kernel of truth in what Broad says. But whether or not there is, all the classical introspectionists who were not act psychologists did in fact accept accounts very much like Broad's of what went on, on the subjective side. This, though, is merely a historical remark, or, if you please, a conjecture why he slipped. Structurally, what matters is that he slipped and that we understand what the slip is. So I repeat, even if the account of what there is on the subjective side were accurate, it would not answer the question how the mass gets "hooked up," or, how those feelings, emotions, and so on, may be "hooked up," not just with the objective constituent, which is merely a sensum, but, as they would have to be, with the whole object, be it ontological or, whatever that may mean, epistemological as well as, in Broad's world, with some propositions about the connections between object and sensum. I conclude that when Broad thinks he has secured that every perceptual situation has an epistemological object, he confuses the epistemological object with the sensum. The sensum is always there, but an epistemological object is never there, to serve as the intention of an act of perceiving. Thus, he cannot ground what he himself recognizes to be a phenomenological truth about perception. This failure to secure a place for the whole perceptual object in the perceptual situation does not depend on the nature of the "hook," or, for that matter, of the adequacy of whatever further analysis he may propose for it. But it will pay if we probe further. Even though the epistemological object is not a constituent of the perceptual situation, the latter is held to refer to an epistemological object. Once more, a long quote will bring out what is crucial. The passage is from the chapter on introspection: All the situations which we are at present considering have an internal complexity; there is an objective constituent, a subjective constituent; and a characteristic relation between the two. But, in addition to this internal complexity, some, if not all, of these situations refer to an epistemological object which is not a constituent of the situation. It is one thing to recognize that a certain perceptual situation, e.g., contains a mass of bodily feeling and a brown elliptical patch related in a certain specific way; and it is an-

41 other thing to recognize that it refers to a certain epistemological object, e.g., "this penny".... Plainly we must distinguish between analysing a situation, describing its various constituents, and noting the relations which subsist between them in the situation, on the one hand; and recognizing, on the other hand, that it refers to such and such an epistemological object which is not a constituent of it.28

How can one say that the perceptual situation refers to its epistemological object if the very assay proposed for the subjective side either precludes there being a reference, or, if there is one, presupposes what is presumably being accounted for. The mass consists of feelings, emotions, and, presumably, expectations. But bodily feelings are non-intentional entities. For Broad, a bodily feeling such as a toothache or headache is a particular existent.29 Feelings may become objects of attention or inspection, but they do not themselves have or intend objects.30 Thus the notion of an intentional connection between a bodily feeling and an objective constituent is unintelligible. Feelings simply do not refer to anything beyond themselves. Expectations, on the other hand, are intentional entities such that, if perceiving of something which one does not apprehend involves "believings or propositions, so a fortiori does expecting something. That is another striking failure. Expectations are not automatic bodily adjustments, nor are they the specific bodily feelings that are connected with bodily adjustments. In physiology there are "bodily expectations," but ontology is not physiology.31 We may sum up this criticism in two sentences: (1) Bodily feelings are not about anything at all; if they were they would be thoughts and not feelings. (2) Even if they were about something, "perceiving" would upon Broad's assay be apprehending of sensa rather than perceivings of "whole" objects, either epistemological, which in his world are literally nothing, or ontological which, as we shall see, cannot literally be intended. III In the preceding section I critically explained Broad's analysis of situations expressed by the phrase "I am seeing such and such." On the side of the subject, there are, upon this analysis, general and specific bodily feelings related in a unique way to an apprehended sensum. On the objective side, or to speak as he does, the objective constituent is a sensum rather than say, a spatio-temporal slice of a physical object, or a region of physical space. This is the gist of the "Sensum Theory." His reason for embracing it

42 is his belief that only this theory could account for the familiar cases of perceptual variation, mirror images, and other aberrations without requiring absolute space and time. In this section I shall attempt to explain why he believed that all alternatives except the Sensum Theory commits one to absolute space and time, and, in so doing, try to unravel the confusion of science and ontology in his notion of absolute space and time. According to Broad, the common sense view of perceptual situations, even in its modified form, can be made self-consistent only if one accepts either the Theory of Multiple Inherence (MIT) or that of Multiple Appearing (MAT). On the common sense view, slightly elaborated into what one may call naive realism, perception involves a two-term relation between a subjective constituent and an objective constituent, such that the qualities of (and relations among) the latter are literally identical with those of a spatio-temporal slice of a physical object. This identity, though, seems to be incompatible with another ordinary notion, namely, that a physical object is something public and capable of appearing differently at different times without having changed. If, for instance, an observer looks at different times at the face of one and the same penny from two different places, the objective constituents of these two situations will be different: one will be round; the other elliptical. But naive realism holds that the objective constituents are at both times the same unchanging penny. It follows that one and the same surface is both round and elliptical, which is absurd. Broad sees only two ways out: If you accept this publicity and neutrality, and identify the objective constituents of the various visual situations with the neutral and public top of the penny, you must hold either (a) that the objective constituents have certain qualities which differ from and are inconsistent with those which they seem on careful inspection to have or (b) that the top of the penny both varies and keeps constant in shape and size within the same stretch of time.32

(a) is the Theory of Multiple Appearing; (b) is the Theory of Multiple Inherence. The MIT attempts to remove the absurdity involved in maintaining that one and the same temporal cross-section of a physical object is both red and pink, or round and elliptical, by construing (phenomenologically) monadic properties as (ontologically) relational ones. Just as it is not a contradiction to say that Socrates is tall (relative to Plato) and short (relative to Callius), it is suggested that in the propositions expressed by "This is red" and "This is pink," where "this" refers to a single objective constituent, red

43 and pink can be construed as relational properties. The gist of this alternative is stated in two passages: Now it has been suggested that the objective constituent of a visual situation can be regarded as a certain region of physical space which is pervaded by a certain determinate shade of colour at a certain time, provided that we recognize that the relation of "pervading" is of a peculiar kind. It must not be a twoterm relation, involving only the pervading colour and the pervaded region, as we commonly suppose. It must be at least a three-term relation, involving the pervading colour, the pervaded region, and another region which we might call the "region of projection".33 Red, on the present view, is a characteristic of such a kind that it cannot inhere in a place simply; it can only "inhere-in-a-place-from-a-place", and this relation, which need such a complex phrase to express it, is simple and unanalysable.34

Thus, if two observers perceive at the same time the same object as red and pink, both the sameness and the difference are grounded in their perceiving the same region of physical space from different places. In this sense the same physical object can have different and even incompatible "properties" at the same time. Broad elaborates this gambit by distinguishing "sensible inherence" from "physical inherence": The former is the fundamental and indefinable relation; and it is irreducibly triadic.... The latter is a two-term relation, but it is not ultimate, for it is definable in terms of the former. And the definition is of the following kind: "R inheres in S" means "From every place sn, which fulfills certain conditions C, some determinate form rn of the determinable R sensibly inheres in s.35

Common sense rightly demurs. What physically inheres in a physical object, it insists, ought to be a real property of it and not just a "property" i.e., a relation between that object and something defined in terms of brains and nervous system elsewhere. Broad, however, probably because of his scientific bias, fails to appreciate the difference between a thing and one of its qualities, on the one hand, and the causal connection between such a quality, if there, and the conditions (causes) for its being there, on the other. He thus concludes that upon this view color is not logically an intrinsic quality of anything, and pervading is a triadic relation:

44 Things are not coloured, in the sense that their colour is a primitive and causally independent characteristic of them, or in the sense that it is directly determined by their intrinsic characteristics. The colour which pervades a region is directly determined, not by the physical contents of that region, but by the physical contents of a different region. A certain region really is pervaded by a certain colour from a certain other region if and only if fsthe latter contains a suitable brain and nervous system.36

Suppose, then, if only for the sake of the argument, that such "sensible" qualities as colors do not literally pervade regions of space. How about the spatial qualities of these regions? Are they, too, merely "properties"? If so, there is a regress of (physical) spaces. Any formulation of the MIT worthy of attention must face and try to answer the question. Broad faces it by acknowledging, in the following passage, the special position of spatial features in any such theory: It seems obvious that the proposition "This is round" could have been true, even if there had been nothing in the world but this area. In fact the shape of a region seems to be an intrinsic quality of it; and it seems nonsense to talk of various shapes inhering in a certain region from various places.37

The answer he proposes, or, at least, sympathetically considers, starts from still another distinction. There are "sensible forms" and there are "geometrical properties." A sensible form is a simple, indefinable quality, e.g., circularity, ellipticality, and the like. In order to make someone understand what the phrase "sensibly circular" refers to, one must acquaint her with several objects that exemplify the "quality" so called. A geometrical property, on the other hand, is definable. Yet he recognizes that the distinction is not as clear cut as one might want it to be if it is to bear this weight. Of course some geometrical properties are themselves indefinable, e.g., geometrical straightness. But it remains a fact that all sensible forms are indefinable, whilst many of the geometrical properties which are called by the same name are definable. It is therefore certain that geometrical properties and the sensible forms which are called by the same names must be distinguished.38

Yet, he thinks, the distinction may enable the MIT to solve the problem that the variations of apparent shape and size give rise to. The geometrical properties of a certain (physical) region are intrinsic to it, i.e., they are physical properties dyadically inhering in it. Thus, it would be nonsense to talk of a region having such and such a geometrical shape from such and

45 such another region. But this is not necessarily so when it comes to sensible forms: It may be that one and the same area is "informed" by one sensible form from one place and by a different sensible form from another place. The relation of "informing" may be irreducibly triadic, as we suggested that the relation of "pervading" is. If this is so, it may be that it is only from one place or one series of places that an area with a certain geometrical shape is informed by that sensible form which has the same name as the geometrical shape.39

What does this amount to? An example will bring out what is structurally the heart of the matter. Suppose, first, that Jones perceives veridically something to be red which Smith perceives to be pink. In this case two secondary qualities inhere (sensibly and triadically) in one region from two others, but the (physical) region pervaded does not physically and dyadically possess any secondary quality. Suppose, next, that Smith veridically perceives something to be round which Jones perceives to be elliptical. This time two sensible forms inhere sensibly and triadically in one region from two others; and, in addition, the (physical) region pervaded possesses physically and dyadically the geometrical property of roundness. Structurally we now see the idea behind it all. No matter how circuitously, the MIT yet arrives at physical, public space without postulation. That is, I submit, why it appeals to Broad. For his scientific bias, i.e., his identification of the basic material existents in ontology with the basic entities of physical science, confronts him with the classical representationalist problem: If we can never literally intend entities in the external world, how can we know that such a world exists, and, if it exists, what it is like? How, in particular, can we move from private space with its qualities and relations to public space? The MIT at least partially bridges the gap, gaining a foothold in the external world by presenting us with public space. That is attractive to Broad. But he also believes that the MIT presupposes a doctrine of absolute space and time, as a kind of fundamental stuff or matrix. For this presupposition, or commitment, he offers a five step argument. (1) The objective constituents of perceptual situations are particular existents and not bundles of universals. (2) Objective constituents are as they appear to be. (3) A mirror image is a genuine objective constituent which appears to be situated at a certain place, and therefore is at that

46 place even though that place is not in fact occupied by matter. (4) A mirror image, being a certain region of space pervaded from a certain other region of space at a certain date and for a certain time by a certain shade of color, is a particular. (5) Hence, the MIT presupposes absolute space and time. Before exploring this use of "absolute space" first let us turn to the Multiple Appearing Theory, which, according to Broad, is the only other alternative for avoiding the familiar absurdities of one and the same thing being at the same time both red and pink, both round and elliptical, and so on. Here too, Broad's objection is that the theory commits those holding it to absolute space and time. But let us see. The Multiple Appearing Theory, like the MIT, allows that under suitable conditions several observers may be aware of one and the same objective constituent, but differs from the latter in supposing that an objective constituent can seem to have qualities that it does not really have. This is possible because in such worlds qualities are tied to things in two ways: there is the "appearing" tie or relation, which must be at least triadic; and there is the "is" or "has" tie, which is dyadic. Furthermore, when there is a round coin which appears elliptical from a certain place, the quality of being elliptical appears to characterize the object from that place. The quality of being circular, on the other hand, which appears to characterize the object from some other place really does do so, i.e., circularity inheres dyadically in the objective constituent and therefore in the physical object perceived. Upon this theory there is no incompatibility between an object being and appearing circular and it’s both being circular and appearing elliptical. On this theory then we may be acquainted in a perceptual situation with a spatio-temporal part of a certain physical object which we are said to be perceiving. But we learn only about the characteristics which it seems to have....and it is certain that it either does not actually have properties of this kind at all; or that, if it does, the apparent and the real properties can be identical only in one specially favoured perceptual situation.40

We need not continue. Structurally, it is clear already, the two theories are alike in one important respect. If one of them commits those holding it to absolute space and time then so does the other. For in view of mirror images, existential error and other aberrations, where there are no physical objects for sensible qualities to seem to inhere in, both theories

47 are forced to admit that sensible qualities inhere or seem to inhere in regions of absolute space and time. Broad eventually rejects the MAT, not just because of what it implies about space (and time) but because of the absurdity, which he arrives at by continuing to worry about mirror images, of there being two particulars where there is, or at least, for "scientific common sense" there ought to be, only one. If I place my finger in front of a mirror, the color and the shape of it seem to pervade two distinct physical objects. However, there is only one physical object in that situation. Therefore, the theory must hold that one physical object may appear to be two such objects in two places. Broad, very reasonably, finds that unacceptable. Now one may admit that a particular might seem to have a certain characteristic which differs from and is incompatible with the characteristics which it does have. But I find it almost incredible that one particular extended patch should seem to be two particular extended patches at a distance apart from each other.41

The implicit strength of this argument lies in an obvious distinction between particulars and qualities. An ontologist, if forced to, may accept "qualities" which are, in the sense here relevant, "relational"; but particulars that are "relational" does not, according to Broad, make any sense. Again, there is a way out, but as one may surmise it requires absolute space (and time). There is of course no difficulty in holding that the same shade of colour and the same sensible form may appear to inhere in two places at once, and that one of these places is physically filled whilst the other is physically empty; provided you hold that colours and sensible forms seem to inhere, not in physical object, but in regions of Space, The appearance of two particulars, viz., the two distinct regions of Space in which the same colour and sensible form seem to inhere at the same time.42

Under the circumstances what is to be done? Broad proposes what he calls the "Critical Scientific Theory" or "Sensum Theory," citing as its most noteworthy virtue—not surprisingly from what has been reported already—that it can dispense with absolute space and time. But before discussing the Sensum Theory I want to explore, in some detail, Broad's rejection of absolute space and time by asking two questions: (1) What exactly is he rejecting, and (2) Why is he rejecting it? Concerning (1) I shall attempt to show that though Broad thinks he is rejecting the Newtonian the-

48 ory of absolute space and time, he is really rejecting a certain view as to the ontological status of places and moments. Concerning (2) I shall argue that his own assay of space and time makes what he conceives to be the "Newtonian" theory redundant, and that, insofar as he thinks that science has refuted this theory, he confuses science and ontology. Let me begin by stating the two most fundamental features of the Newtonian view. The first is that space and time are logically prior to matter or things and events. That is, space could be, even if there had never been anything in it and time could be, even if there had never been any events. Or, as it has been put, space and time are the containers or receptacles which things occupy and in which events happen. Now there are two possible relations between space and time and a "thing." A thing may be a "substance" which "occupies" the distinct entities which are space-time regions. Or a thing may "be" a space-time region which is pervaded by qualities. Upon the latter notion, the essence of the "container view" is that if all the nonspatial and nontemporal qualities pervading a space-time region were taken away, there would still be the latter. The second fundamental feature of the Newtonian view is that there is more to space and time than spatial and temporal relations. This follows from the first feature: If spatio-temporal relations were the only entities in space and time, then they would obtain not between places and moments but, rather, between and among things and events. Therefore, if we took away things and events there could not be space and time. However, according to the container view there may be space and time without things and events. Thus, if we assume the container view then spatio-temporal relations cannot, except derivatively, obtain between and among things and events, but must directly obtain between and among places and moments. Hence, on the Newtonian view, places and moments must have ontological status. To say that places and moments have ontological status is one thing, to say what kind of entities they are, is quite another. Newton did not need to and in fact did not specify what ontological category places and moments belonged to. In particular, he did not, and, as a scientist, did not need to concern himself with the issue of whether they are substances or qualities. Scientists may legitimately worry about whether there are places and moments, and, if so, whether they could exist without things and events, but they do not worry about their categorial status. Broad, however, as we shall see, interprets the Newtonians so as to commit them to holding that space and time are substances.

49 The two fundamental features of the Newtonian view are thus (a) places and moments are entities, and (b) they may exist "unoccupied." In what sense, we must ask, does Broad reject this view? He surely is not rejecting (a); for unless I am wholly mistaken, I have already shown that in his ontology there is more to space and time than just spatial and temporal relations and that this something more are spatial and temporal positional qualities. Rather, he rejects (b), i.e., the view also held by the "absolutist" Newtonians that there is empty space and empty time. Within Broad’s ontology, though, the only dispute between the "absolutist" and himself is that while the former maintains that the cluster (pji, tij) is there even if no other quality is in it, he maintains that whenever there is a (pji,tij) cluster there is also a (pji, tij, fk1) cluster where fk1 is some non-positional perfect particular. Put differently, Broad holds that every existent space-time cluster is a subcluster. The following two passages express this position: ...if spatio-temporal characteristics are primary, they cannot be the only primary characteristics. Whatever is extended must have some other characteristic, which is capable of covering an area or filling a volume as colour and temperature do in sensa....It might be mass or electric charge.43 Every particular existent is an instance of some Non-Positional Quality in addition to being characterised by some determinable quality of Temporal Position.44

The common facts of mirror images and existential error force the MIT and MAT to presuppose empty space-time, and since Broad explicitly rejects the latter, he also rejects the two theories. I believe, however, that he mistakenly rejects the Newtonian theory and hence the MIT and MAT for still another reason: For one, he takes the Newtonian theory to hold that space and time are "substances." For another, he rejects spatio-temporal substances. In his ontology substances in the strict sense are indeed redundant. Yet he is mistaken in considering this is a good reason for rejecting Newton. For the Newtonian view is ontologically neutral since it does not claim that places and moments are either substances or qualities. Thus, to reject as Broad does spatio-temporal substances, is not, as he seems to believe after Einstein one must, to reject the physics of Newton. The following passages show that Broad thinks of the Newtonian theory as committed to substantial space and time: ...this [MIT] surely presupposes Space-Time as a kind of omnipresent and eternal substance, every region of which is ready to be pervaded by some

50 sensible quality from some other region. I do not of course suggest that this theory must suppose that Absolute Space-Time is the only substance in the material realm....But, whilst it is not necessary for the theory to hold that Absolute Space-Time is the only substance in the material realm, it is necessary for it to hold that Absolute Space-Time is a substance and that the particularity of the objective constituents of some, if not all, perceptual situations is the particularity of some particular region of Space-Time.45 …[the MIT and MAT] need to assume Absolute Space-Time, in the sense of a kind of substantial matrix whose various regions stand ready to be pervaded by various sensible qualities and informed by various sensible forms.46 And what is a region of Space...but a timeless particular in which sometimes one quality, sometimes several qualities, and sometimes perhaps no qualities, inhere. And what is the plurality of different regions of Space... but a plurality of timeless particulars which differ solo numero?47

What makes trouble here is the notion of a timeless particular. In the world of The Mind and Its Place in Nature, the place and the moment are perfect particulars. Let the corresponding cluster be (Pj, Ti). Then the region will be at least (pji, tij). Thus a further particular, to support the cluster could only be bare, either (a) momentary or (b) "timeless"; either (a) a different mji for each (pji, tij) so that the ternary cluster becomes (mji, pji, tij) or (b) a single mj for all moments, with (mj, pji, tij) as the ternary cluster. In either case, the formal redundancy of the support is easily read off the indices. But things are worse than that. With places and moments assayed as perfect particulars, the additional particular mj in case (a), mj in case (b), can only be bare. Yet there are no bare particulars in this world. Thus the notion is blatantly counterstructural. In case (b) moreover, mj exists at all moments, lasts through all time, which to be sure is not literally the same as to be out of time or timeless. The redundancy disappears as soon as one removes the (pji,tij),or more consistently, all perfect particulars, introducing instead spatial and temporal properties of and relations between the merely numerically different, or as one says, bare mji. The result, of course, is a world in which there is empty space. Is this perhaps the ontological pattern that may most plausibly be projected onto Newton's physics? This question, even if it is a good question, we need not decide. All I set out to establish and I think have already established, is that Broad's analysis suffers at this point from his failure to make the required distinctions.

51 (1) One possible pattern is a world of perfect space and time particulars. In such a world a "substratum" of space and time is redundant. But either (la) there may be, or (1b) there may not be empty regions in it. (2) Upon another pattern there is a (four-dimensional) grid of merely numerically diverse particulars with spatial and temporal relations among them. In such a world there are empty regions, but positional qualities would be redundant in it. With respect to the verbal trouble into which Broad gets himself upon one of his uses of "absolute," only (2) is absolute; upon the other, both (2) and (la) are. Finally, with respect to the MAT and MIT, since they are both committed to empty space, they are both committed either to (la) or to (2). Broad is mistaken in thinking that they are committed to (2). Hence, in particular, the success of relativistic mechanics, even if taken to be an argument against (2), would not be an argument against either MIT or MAT. IV Since the Sensum Theory need not introduce empty space-time regions it does not, from Broad's point of view start with the same heavy liabilities as the MAT and MIT. Yet, it is by no means free from other difficulties due to its failure to account in any way for our intending anything but sensa, propositions about the latter, propositions about "physical" objects, (and, irrelevant for the purpose at hand, relations, classes, and numbers). This limitation raises two questions: (1) how can we justify our belief that physical objects exist? Or, to put the same question differently, how can we know that any propositions about physical objects are true? (2) Irrespective of whether we can justify our belief in physical objects, how do we come by this belief? Broad's answer to the first question is familiar. He holds that while we cannot strictly justify our belief that physical objects exist, the hypothesis that they do is yet reasonable because, supposing that they do, science is notoriously successful in explaining the coherence of the objective constituents (sensa) of all perceptual situations. The following remark is typical of many: The hypothesis that what appears to us as external objects and what appears to us as our own bodies are extended and stand in spatial relations… accounts for the correlations between objective constituents of perceptual situations and for their variations as we move about.48

52 With respect to space in particular, It does not seem to be possible to account for the correlated variations in the shapes and sizes of visual sensa without assigning quasi-spatial qualities and relations to the permanent conditions of these variable appearances and to the things which manifest themselves to us by bodily feelings.49

This coherence supports the existence of permanent and public (physical) objects in (physical) space.50 However, Broad also admits that this belief is highly probable only on the assumption that it has a finite initial probability. This increases the urgency of the question which inquires what exactly it is that we believe. Or, to put it as he does, how do we come by the very notion of a physical object? To grasp the second question more fully, consider the following passage: From the very nature of the case the notion of "Physical Object" cannot have been derived by abstraction from observed instances of it, as the notion of "red" no doubt has been. For the objective constituents are not instances of this concept; and it is only in virtue of these postulates that we can hold that they are "parts of" or "manifestations of" instances of this concept. The concept is not "got out of" experience until it has been "put into" experience. It is best described as an innate principle of interpretation which we apply to the data of sense-perception. At the purely perceptual level "to apply the principle" simply means to act and to feel as it would be reasonable to act and feel if we explicitly recognised it and interpreted the data of sense in accordance with it.51

This passage suggests a crucial distinction. What is an innate principle of interpretation? The only answer I find intelligible is what a contemporary psychologist would call an unlearned, or innate, connection between a stimulus and a response. More traditionally, and also more accurately, I believe, it is claimed that one's being presented with, or intending something, call it A, triggers a believing something else, call it B. The second question does not probe into the unlearned connection between what triggers and what is triggered. This causal connection (1) one may accept as a basic anthropological feature. The question is, rather, since B is not anything we can literally intend in any of the ways of intending the system provides, or as it is put, since B is put into "experience" rather than got out of it, (2a) what is B and (2b) how do we manage to "think" it. A claimed causal condition in anthropology (1), on the one side, and a philosophical issue (2) on

53 the other; is the crucial distinction. Nor is it strictly one issue; for (2a) is an ontological question while (2b) is epistemological. I shall say no more about (2b). Yet, clearly, a system that examines in such detail the kinds of intending it does provide cannot afford to ignore it. With respect to (2a), since Broad holds that science reveals to us what is really there, he could hardly accept either that what we "think" when thinking about its objects are either words or certain clusters of sensa in sensible space and time which we believe to be similar to one knows not what. Calling "categorial" what is thus not, yet in the spirit of the system ought to be, "empirical," merely adds a word, without explaining what we are intending in such cases. In general, then, I shall say no more about the gap in the system. But it will pay if we look at what in this context Broad says about space, and, even more remarkably, about what he does not say about time. For space, and therefore presumably time, occupy a very crucial position in this system. Are there two spaces, one empirical (sensible), one categorial; or is there only one? Are there two times, one empirical, one categorical; or is there only one? With respect to time, the question, though most natural in the system, even if its author were not an eager student of the theory of relativity, is not even raised at a single place in this long book. Presumably then, there is only one time. Do we then have at least this "empirical" access to what is also "categorial"? No Kantian and no neo-Kantian would accept what Broad here suggests by omission. With respect to space he is more articulate. Consider the following passages: Shape, size, and position are primary qualities which inhere literally and dyadically both in the objective constituents of perceptual situations and in their relatively permanent conditions. Electric charge, magnetic properties, and so on, are primary qualities which inhere literally and dyadically in physical objects, but do not (so far as we know) inhere in the objective constituent of any perceptual situation.52 The visual field then is a spatial whole with which we are acquainted in senseperception, and it is the only spatial whole of any importance with which we are acquainted. The physical world, as a spatial whole, is conceived on the analogy of the visual field. Bodies are analogous to outstanding coloured patches. They are conceived to have shapes and sizes, as these patches visibly do have them; to occupy various positions in Physical Space, as these patches visibly occupy various positions in the visual field; and to be capable of moving about within Physical Space, as some of these patches visibly move about within the visual

54 field.53

"Analogy" sounds very sophisticated. Yet what is claimed is quite simple. Sensa and the building stones of the physical are two and not one; the former are empirical; the latter, categorial. Yet the spatial properties and relations of and among the former and the spatial properties of and among the latter are literally the same. Why should we believe that? There is nothing but the bare assertion, except, perhaps, another implicit appeal to the success of science. Yet, if one accepts it, there is a sense in which access to objective space would be more direct than to any nonspatial primary feature such as, presumably, mass or electric charge. Moreover, had Broad been consistent he would have had to extend exactly the same treatment to time. That is, he would have to claim that, while, e.g., two phenomenal and two physical events are two pairs of events and not one; such relations as, say, being simultaneous to or being later than, which connect the members of each pair are literally the same. This "privileged" position or access to space is acknowledged. In the case of time it is not even mentioned. So I cannot but believe that, surprisingly as it is in a "representationalist," Broad takes it for granted. The adequacy of a system is one thing; its structure or spirit, is another. The gap Broad tries to hide behind what he calls the "categorial factor" in sense perception and what I have called the "neo-Kantian" turn, leaves his system forever a fragment. Yet the distinguished role of both time and space in it shows the impact of the Kantian pattern. For space, and space alone, from what we are told, straddles the fence between the empirical and the categorial; time, if only from what we are not told, most paradoxically is in both.

55 NOTES CHAPTER II 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30.

MPN, p. 141. MPN, p. 142. MPN, p. 143. MPN, p. 142. Another passage suggesting that he believes that the epistemological object and ontological object are two is the following: E.g., if the ordinary scientific view, as commonly interpreted, were right, all the perceptual situations would be delusive in so far as they claim to reveal objects which literally have colour, taste, smell, etc. But they would be veridical in so far as they claim to reveal objects which literally have shape, size, position and motion (MPN, p.147). MPN, pp. 146-47. MPN, p. 33 MPN, p. 33. MPN, p. 34. MPN, p. 439. MPN, p. 205. MPN, p. 206. MPN, p. 144. MPN, p. 144. MPN, p. 145. MPN, pp. 145-46; italics added. MPN, p. 148. MPN, pp. 149-50. MPN, p. 149. MPN, p. 149. MPN, p. 149. MPN, p. 150. MPN, p. 209; italics added. MPN, p. 151. MPN, p. 215. MPN, p. 208-209 MPN, p. 215. MPN, pp. 291-92. See, for example, MPN, pp. 289-90; 309. Some have argued that there is no difference between the existence of a bodily feeling and the feeling of it, e.g., between the toothache and the awareness or feeling of a toothache. Broad and others have maintained on the other hand, that there is a difference between say, a toothache and the feeling of it. Broad has said that a bodily feeling is a particular existent whereas the awareness of a

56

31.

32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53.

bodily feeling involves a relation between a subjective constituent (i.e., a bodily feeling!) and the toothache. One need not take a stand on this issue to argue, as I have done, that bodily feelings cannot be the subjective basis of our "intuitive apprehension" of sensa, images, and bodily feelings, or of our "referring" to propositions about "whole" objects. Even if Broad construes expectations as intentional entities they could not account for our perception being about a "whole" object because they presuppose it. One would not expect that an object will move or make a noise unless one is already aware that it is a dog, or an animal of some other kind. MPN, pp. 159-60. MPN, pp. 161-62. MPN, p. 162. MPN, pp. 163-64. MPN, p. 176. MPN, p. 171. MPN, p. 172. MPN, p. 173. MPN, p. 179 MPN, p. 188. MPN, p. 188. MPN, p. 207. MPN, p. 593. MPN, p. 187. MPN, p. 189. MPN, p. 590. MPN, p. 204. MPN, p. 205. See in particular MPN, pp. 196-200. MPN, pp. 217-18. MPN, p. 207. MPN, p. 203.

Chapter III MEMORY

T

raditional accounts of memory have been entirely concerned with the recollection of individual past experiences, i.e., the memory of events, persons, places or things. Broad's discussion of memory in The Mind and Its Place in Nature, being primarily concerned with what he calls "perceptual memory," fits well within this tradition. The reason he calls these rememberings of events, things, and so on, "perceptual" memory is that he regards them as closely analogous to perceivings. This leads him in turn to maintain that such memory situations have two objects: one an objective constituent, the other an epistemological object. The objective constituents of both kinds of situations are essentially the same, the epistemological objects differ in that the perceived object is present while the one remembered is past. The difference, according to Broad, is grounded in the perceived and remembered objects having the simple non-relational temporal characteristics of presentness and pastness, respectively. Armed with these two distinctions, between objective constituents and epistemological object, on the one hand, and presentness and pastness on the other, he tackles two fundamental problems of perceptual memory: (1) What does perceptual memory consist of and how does it differ from perception? (2) How do we come by the notion of "pastness"? In this chapter I shall first argue that Broad's account of (1) fails because it requires that propositions have a reality which, given his views on time, they cannot have. Then I shall uncover the neo-Kantianism involved in his answer to (2). Still in regard to (2), I shall also consider his discussion of the naively realist theory of memory. Perceptual memory situations, we are told, are expressed by such phrases as "I remember having my hair cut last week," "I remember the tie which my friend wore yesterday," "I remember that the tie was green," and "I remember that the tie was not red, but I do not remember what color it was." Broad starts his analysis of these situations by comparing them with

58 typical perceptual situations. In both situations the awareness of things is held to depend on an awareness of events. When we say that we are perceiving a certain physical object, we are really perceiving a physical event or a series of them and regarding them as slices of the history of this physical object. Similarly, the memory of a physical object involves the memory of an event together with the belief that the event is a part of the (past) history of that object. Thus he concludes, "The fundamental point to be considered in dealing with perceptual memory is the memory of events."1 Presently, we shall see that Broad uses "event" for two very different sorts of thing. A spatio-temporal part of a certain physical object is an event. But an event may also be a sensum, i.e., a differentiated part of a sense-field, which is a cross-section of a sense-history rather than of a physical object. As long as one does not forget or blur their difference, nothing is wrong with calling both these very different sorts events. They do indeed share the feature, connected with the ordinary use of the word, of being either momentary, or, at least, with respect to the context, of short duration. But we can also see an intellectual motive that may seduce one who holds Broad's views to blur the difference. If some past events are sensa, there remains the structural possibility of our being directly acquainted with them (or, synonymously, as he speaks, intuitively apprehending them). Yet if the word "event," having just been used for a (past) sensum, is also used to refer to a (past) slice of a physical object, and this slice, just because it is called an "event," is treated as if it were a (past) sensum, which is also called an "event," a seductive analogy to the perceptual situation becomes available, provided only one holds, as Broad in fact does, that there is in the perceptual memory situation the present existent which he calls an imitative image. For then the memory image will seem to correspond to the present sensum in the perceptual situation while the past "event" in remembering will seem to correspond to what is confusingly called the "epistemological object" of perceiving. But then, we must ask, which "event"? Only if, by the blur under investigation, the "event" is taken to be the past physical slice, will another similarity between the two sorts of situation be accounted for. They will be both about public objects. That is to say, our memory beliefs will be about past physical objects and events and not just about past private sensa. The existence of delusive memory situations and their qualitative similarity to veridical situations does force Broad to distinguish their objective constituents from their epistemological objects. In memory,

59 whether veridical or delusive, the experiencer really is acquainted with something, viz., the image. This something, though contemporary, is not itself the remembered object. Thus, the image must be distinct from the epistemological object, and the situation as a whole is similar to a perceptual one, in which, if only because of the existence of non-veridical perceptions, the objective constituent must be distinguished from the epistemological object. Looking at the same thing from a different angle, we discover still another shared feature. There is in both situations "a belief which refers beyond the situation and its constituents."2 In perception, one believes that a certain physical object now exists and is now manifesting certain aspects of itself to us. In memory, one believes that a certain physical object has existed and that a certain phase of its history is now being manifested to us again. Thus there must be something more to the analysis of memory than the having of the images. For, in order to explain our even supposing that some of our experiences are experiences of remembering, memory images must cause us to believe in the existence of something past. Finally, both sorts of situation are analogous in that the belief is: …(a) based upon the existence and character of the objective constituent; (b) refers beyond it to something which is not a constituent; but (c) is not reached by a process of deductive or inductive inference from the existence and nature of the objective constituent.3

The phrase "based upon" marks the claim that in the memory situation the objective constituent, i.e., the presented present image, has a certain peculiar characteristic called familiarity which causes us to "apply the concept of pastness" to the object remembered. This is not to say that an awareness of this characteristic is an infallible cue to the existence in the past of such an object, but, rather, that our memory belief that there was a past object which is now manifesting a phase of its history is caused by, or, if you please, "based upon" this characteristic. One gap here is that familiarity is a feeling in us and not a character of either an image or a physical event and that, therefore, it remains unaccounted how we come by the notion of pastness. This gap, we shall see, he closes in a manner which is essentially neo-Kantian. The belief in the existence of the remembered event must be immediate, according to Broad. For an inference from the objective constituent to the remembered event would have to be based on the general principle that all present images are copies of past sensa and this principle could not

60 be inductively established "unless there be some non-inferential memory judgments about past sensa."4 Notice that at this point the shift that can become a blur has already occurred. The memory judgment is about a past sensum. Yet, when Broad turns to the essential difference between memory and perceptual situations he assumes quite correctly, as for instance in the following paragraph, that the object remembered is a physical event: When I am the subject of a perceptual memory situation I believe that such an event has happened, and that it was part of the history of a certain physical object which may or may not still exist.5

So much for the similarities. The essential difference between perceptual and memory situations is that while the former are intuitive and sensuous, the latter are neither. What makes the perceptual situation this way is its "intuitive" or, as I would rather say, its "phenomenological" claim to bring us into direct—and therefore presumably "sensuous"—contact with physical objects. Memory situations clearly are not at all this way. In some cases the objective constituent seems to be merely images of words; and in that case we cannot claim to be in direct contact with a past slice of the history of an object.6

Furthermore, according to Broad, even when the objective constituent is an imitative image, it is no part of the memory belief to claim that the image is numerically identical with a certain slice of the past history of the remembered object. Thus the essential difference between the two situations is that, ...the perceptual situation definitely identifies its objective constituent with a contemporary part of the perceived object, whilst the memory-situation neither identifies the image with a past part of the object nor definitely distinguishes the two.7

This difference, I would again call it phenomenological, Broad undertakes to ground ontologically. He illuminates the difference between perception and memory by considering two memory situations which he calls positive and negative, respectively. Suppose someone asks me: "Was the tie I wore yesterday green?" I may answer by saying "I remember that it was not green, but I cannot remember what color it was." According to Broad, such situations

61 do not require the presence of an imitative image, but they do require an objective constituent of some sort. There is always some determinate characteristic presented for consideration. It may be presented by an imitative image, or by actually hearing and understanding the word which stands for it without using an imitative image, or by calling up for myself an image of the sound or appearance of this word. The method of presentation seems to be absolutely unimportant so long as it succeeds in making me think of the characteristic in question.8

With this aspect of the analysis we are familiar. This is the way Broad characterized the cognitive relation between a subject and the objective constituent of a situation. What is novel is that in these situations the objective constituent "triggers off," or causes, a peculiar feeling that a certain characteristic does not fit the remembered object. This feeling of "nonfitness," as he calls it, is the basis and justification for the memory judgment that the tie I wore yesterday was not green. Similarly, in the positive situation a certain determinate characteristic thought of "triggers off" an equally characteristic feeling of "fitness." I then say that I remember that the tie was green. This feeling, which is naturally expressed by the judgment: "It fits the object", and is regarded as justifying that judgment, is the characteristic mark of a positive memorysituation.9

Thus, The essential point [in memory-situations] is the felt fitting or non-fitting of suggested characteristics....10

These feelings are essential to memory because they are supposed to account for, and justify our non-inferential beliefs about, the past. Notice, incidentally, that this is the second time we have come upon "feelings,",which are structurally intentional. Be that as it may, when it comes to stating what he takes to be the essential points of difference between perception and memory situations, these subjective feelings of fitness and non-fitness are not what Broad builds his case on. Rather, he distinguishes perception and memory in terms of their having different objects. In perception what is primarily known are particulars and the propositions we know about particulars, such as "This is green" and "This is long and thin," are regarded as de-

62 pendent on them. For, to repeat, in perception we claim, . . . to be directly acquainted with a part of the tie; and the propositions which I claim to perceive about it seem to be "read off" from the object itself. The object (or, at any rate, a literal part of it) seems to be "given" bodily; and the perceptual judgments profess to "analyse" it.11

In a memory situation, on the other hand, what are known is primarily propositions, such that our recollection of a past particular depends on timeless propositions about it. To continue the last passage quoted: Now, in spite of some appearances to the contrary I believe that the opposite is true of perceptual memory. I believe that what is primarily known by memory is propositions like "This was green", "This was long and thin", etc; and that this is true both in positive and in negative memory situations. Certain groups of such propositions are recognised to have a common subject; and the object is "remembered" only in so far as it is known as the common subject of such a group of remembered propositions.12

We are ready to summarize this analysis. First, there is a cognitive relation between general bodily feelings and a present image of some kind. Second, this image, (or, perhaps better, imagining) causes a specific feeling of either fitness or non-fitness which in turn causes a judging whose object is the proposition that a certain past event either had or did not have a certain characteristic. This proposition is the intention of the memory situation. The intention of a perceptual situation, on the other hand, is an object. Proposition vs. object; this according to Broad is the ontological distinction. I add in passing that, whatever the merits of the proposed analysis of perceptual memory, and irrespective of what triggers what in which situation, ontologically the distinction is immaterial since the eventual intentions of perceivings are also propositions such as e.g., "This is green" and "This is long and thin." Propositions are indeed of fundamental importance not only to Broad's view on memory, but to his entire philosophy of mind. For, consistently he would have to hold, and I believe very probably does hold, that all cognitions which go beyond direct acquaintance essentially involve propositions. It is thus unfortunate that this crucial notion of a proposition remains unanalysed in the system. I have, however, in the first chapter, considered all the analyses that he could consistently propose and pointed out the difficulties that attend whichever he may choose. Let us review these alternatives and the difficulties attending them in a case of remem-

63 bering. Consider a proposition expressed by the sentence "This was green." Broad holds that "this" refers to the particular event remembered: ...the object which the characteristic is felt to fit or fail to fit is not cognized by direct and sensuous acquaintance, as it seems to be in sense-perception, but is presented only to thought as the subject of such and such propositions. 13 In other words, the propositions remembered are about a past particular: In perceptual memory the propositions remembered are always about past events; and, when we remember a proposition in this sense, we ipso facto, remember perceptually the event which it is about.14

Is then the past particular itself a constituent of the proposition "this was green"? We saw earlier that upon Broad's view on time a proposition cannot contain particular existents. For, if it did, it would itself not be until the particular it contains comes into being. Thus, the proposition itself instead of being an eternal or timeless entity would come into being. Nor does the situation improve if one assumes that the propositions "This is green," "This was green," and "This will be green," are clusters of abstracta. For, on Broad's view, pastness, presentness, and futurity are three simple, nonrelational temporal characteristics. Hence, upon his basic gambit, each of the three clusters contains one of the three abstracta which go with the three characteristics. But then the truth value of a proposition containing one of these universals in its cluster cannot be unchanging. The only way of securing the timelessness of Broadian propositions is, therefore, to exclude the three McTaggartian universals, pastness and presentness, and (if there be such) futurity from his world. Otherwise, as it was put earlier, his propositions become existents, either perfect particulars or clusters of such. Ignore next, if only for the sake of the argument, this debacle of the propositional intentions which are supposedly characteristic of perceptual memories, and allow that when making memory judgments about past events one intends timeless propositions about past particulars. On Broad's analysis, such a judgment is, on the side of the subject, a cluster of specific feelings which stands in a cognitive relation to a proposition on the side of the intention. Even if this were so, there would still be difficulties. First of all, as has been pointed out already, bodily feelings are perfect examples of non-intentional entities. Hence, the very idea of an intentional relation between a cluster of them and anything else, whether an existent or an ab-

64 stractum, is counterstructural, irrespective of whatever detailed assay is offered for the relation itself in this relationship. Thus, even if propositions had the reality Broad intended them to have, they could not in his world be intended. But if propositions cannot be intended, then they cannot be known; and if they cannot be known, then we can never remember a past event. For an event of this world is remembered only if it is recognized to be the common subject of a group of propositions. At this point Broad turns to the image: ...an imitative image very often does supervene; and then I think we are said, not merely to remember things about the object but in the strictest sense to remember the object. (Of course in a looser sense we are said to remember an object provided we remember anything about it.)15

If this were all, then all there would be in a memory situation would be the image and the feeling of familiarity. Let me stress that the most serious difficulty that Broad faces in memory is the same as the one he faces in perception. The only mental items in either case are non-intentional bodily feelings and, perhaps, "expectations" treated as if they were feelings. Thus one cannot understand how we can manage to intend anything, either in thought or in memory, or in perception. Thus he fails before he has started as it were. But even if we ignore that for the moment, the situation in perceiving and remembering still remains critical. For, as we say, the only entities to be intended are a present sensum in the perception case, and a present image, whatever that may be if not either a present sensum or a cluster of such, in the memory case. Thus there is nothing in the perceptual situation to account for our beliefs being about present physical objects just as there is nothing in the memory situation to account for our beliefs being about past ones. If one stays within what Broad might have thought of as the "empirical" tradition, then there is no way out. In the perceptual situation, we saw in the last chapter, he takes the neo-Kantian way out. Not surprisingly, Broad also takes the neo-Kantian way out in the case of memory. Yet there is also a difference or, rather, there is a complication. In perception, the one "categorial" entity is the physical object. In memory there is also pastness. For the pastness, either of a sensum or of a physical object, is never presented. So he must face two questions, (i) How do we come by the notion of pastness? (ii) How do we come to believe in the existence of past (physical) objects or events? His answer to (i) occurs in the following two passages:

65 I suggest that the objective constituents of memory-situations are not in fact past and that they do not even seem to be past. But they do seem to have (and there is no reason to doubt that they actually do have) a certain peculiar characteristic which is not manifested by most images or sensa. Let us call this "familiarity". Now we are so constituted that, when we are subjects of a cognitive situation whose objective constituent manifests the characteristic of familiarity, we inevitably apply the concept of pastness; and, if we make an explicit judgment it takes the form: "There was an event which had such and such empirical characteristics." Familiarity is an empirical characteristic and pastness is a categorial characteristic; but the former "means" the latter to such beings as we are; and this "meaning" is primitive and unacquired...16 The familiarity of the images makes us think of some event, other than the image, as past; and makes us say that this event had or had not such and such characteristics which are suggested to us by the image.17

His answer to (ii) raises the problems we have already encountered in perception of the physical object (or event) as such, i.e., irrespective of its being either past, or present, or future. But it will be worth our while if we rehearse the dialectic in the case of (i). When Broad says that we think of some event, other than the image, as past, what event is he referring to? Is it (a) some past sensum or is it (b) some past physical event? He is never clear. As noted earlier, at times he speaks as though the epistemological object were (a), at others as though it were (b). I think he would maintain that we can "apply the concept of pastness" to both (a) and (b), in which case his analysis could be unpacked somewhat as follows: The apprehension of a memory image causes us to believe some proposition about a past sensum and some proposition about a past physical event. That suggests two questions his "neo-Kantian" verbalisms dodge. (1) Since pastness is not gotten from experience, how do we manage to "think" it? To say that we are so constituted may be adequate as a causal explanation of the thoughts occurring, but it is not an adequate philosophical explication of the kind of intending involved. (2) What are we intending when somehow managing to "think" of either (a) or (b)? Surely, by calling these entities "non-empirical" or "categorial" we do not come closer to knowing what we are thinking about. I conclude that within this system not only the physical object but also pastness, whether of physical objects or sensa, remain forever hidden behind the screen of present sensa and of propositions about them.

66 Specifically, Broad's difficulty is that, while he believes pastness to be a simple non-relational temporal character, he also believes that it does not characterize any existent we are acquainted with. Clearly, he is correct in holding that we are not acquainted with pastness. But why does he insist, without argument, that it is a simple character? It seems reasonable to suppose that he has been taken in by McTaggart’s argument for the necessity of the A-series, i.e., the series of events "running" from the remote past to the near past to the present, and from the present to the near future and the far future. One need not go as far as to say that all arguments for the reality of McTaggart’s triad of A-characteristics, pastness, presentness, and futurity are invalid, and yet be convinced that McTaggart’s own argument is. I, for one, am convinced that in so far as Broad bases his belief in the objectivity and simplicity of pastness of McTaggart’s argument, there is no reason to think his belief to be true. McTaggart argues for the reality of his triad as follows. Time requires change, but there can be no change if time consists merely in temporal relations between events. There can be change only if in addition to temporal relations there are A-characteristics, hence time requires the latter. The point, it seems is that the analysis of a thing in terms of a succession of momentary things cannot account for change because it does not yield a single entity that changes, i.e., has a property and then loses it in the sense required. The fact that it (a poker) is hot at one point in a series and cold at other points cannot give change, if neither of these facts change, and neither of them does.l8

In other words, the analysis of one thing into a succession of qualitatively different events does not yield a single entity that remains the same while first having and then losing a property. For, to quote again, Changes must happen to the events of such a nature that the occurrence of these changes does not hinder the events from being events, and the same events, both before and after the change.19

For there to be change each slice of an "enduring" thing must change and this is possible only if events have A-characteristics and change with respect to them. Now what characteristics of an event are there which can change and yet

67 leave the event the same event?...it seems to me that there is only one class of such characteristics—namely, the determination of the event in question by the terms of the A series.20

Thus, McTaggart reaches his conclusion. Change is accounted for by having one and the same event first having a temporal determination and then losing it. The obvious reason that this is not an adequate account of change is that it presupposes change, not in things to be sure, yet in events. Events, however, are momentary, in a sense in which there cannot be change in them. To see further how McTaggart's ignoring the above statement gets him into trouble, let me restate the analysis he rejects. Upon this analysis each cross-section is a cluster of particularized characters, or, as I would rather say, of momentary perfect particulars. Thus, given the differences in temporal position, even if one confused the Ti, Pj, Fk, with the tij, pji, fki, no two such clusters would be the same, i.e., agree in all elements, and some may not have a single element in common. McTaggart's move is to "freeze" each such cluster, i.e., to replace it by a series of clusters, obtained by adding once pastness, once presentness, once futurity, thus making the original cluster the persisting core which remains literally the same. The trouble with this "solution" is that while this core persists through change it is no longer a momentary particular, which consistently it would have to be. Let us for now set aside discussion of the ontology of time. Epistemologically, some of Broad's voluminous musings about pastness deserve mention, for he suggests a theory of memory, which he calls naively realistic, that is very unusual and original. According to this theory, when we remember a past event we are directly acquainted with it, i.e., the memory situation consists of the relation of intuitive apprehension between a present existent on the subjective side and a past existent on the objective side. What is so bold about this view and Broad's discussion of it is that it explores, in some detail, the possibility that a past particular could be a constituent of a present cognitive situation. What makes it attractive to him is that it suggests an answer to (i), i.e., the question as to how we come by the notion of pastness? Because the naively realistic theory of memory is attractive to Broad, he tries to defend it against possible objections. The first such objection he considers is the following: It might be said that, when an event is past, it ceases to exist. Now, when I

68 am remembering a past event, the memory-situation certainly exists and so does its objective constituent. Hence, it is said, the objective constituent of a memory-situation cannot be identical with the past event which is being remembered. 21

Broad rejects this argument because on his view of time, the premise that past events do not exist is false. For him, once an event comes into existence it continues to exist thereafter. It is always "there" waiting to be remembered. ...and there is no a priori reason why they [i.e., past events] should not from time to time enter into such a relation with certain present events that they become objects of direct acquaintance.22

Thus the first objection does not undermine the naive view. The second difficulty facing the naive view is more serious. In memory situations the imitative image seems to be separated in time from the remembered event and therefore cannot be numerically identical with it. For example, suppose that when I perceived an event I had a headache; and that when I remembered it I had a toothache. The original event was simultaneous with the headache and preceded the toothache. The memory image was simultaneous with the toothache and followed the headache. From these facts one may likely conclude that the original event and the memory image of it are numerically diverse particulars that are present at different times. Thus, the naive view is possible only if it can explain how what seem to be two temporally distinct images are really numerically identical. In other words, it must explain how an event that is present only once can seem to be present many times. Broad's answer, which we have already discussed in another context (p. 15), is based on the distinction between an event's being present and its being presented. The former can happen to an event only once, when it becomes, but the latter may happen any number of times. I think it is possible that when we say that an image is obviously present each time we remember a certain event we may only be justified in saying that it is presented each time, i.e., that it is an objective constituent of each situation and an object of acquaintance.23

From Broad's point of view, the fallacy of the argument against the naive theory consists in incorrectly inferring that if an entity is presented it is present, or, that if two entities are co-presented they are co-present. Once

69 one realizes that an entity may be presented without its being present, it is perfectly possible that the same event may be a constituent of both a memory and a perceptual situation. The third possible objection to the naive view starts from the premise that the past cannot change. For, if the past cannot change, and if memory images differ qualitatively from the remembered sensum, the two cannot be identical. As he says: ...if we can see that the image has a different determinate characteristic from the original sensum, the two cannot be identical; and the naively realistic theory of memory falls to the ground.24

The familiar facts establish that there are cases where the objective constituent and the remembered event do have different determinate characteristics, ...when I remember a thing or event by means of an imitative image, I can often say quite definitely that there are certain details in the image which are different from and inconsistent with corresponding details in the original.25

Given that the past cannot change, the natural conclusion from this observation is that the memory image and the remembered event cannot be identical. However, he resists drawing that conclusion, pointing out that we may still be naively realistic about memory if we accept the additional hypothesis that, ...the same event can appear to have different and incompatible details and determinable characteristics according to whether it is the objective constituent of a perceptual situation or of a memory-situation.26

This is the theory of appearing as applied to memory and while it is a theoretical possibility, Broad does not try to save the naive view by adopting it. For, even if we could save the naive view it would be unable to solve the epistemological problems that gave rise to it. Sometimes memory is totally delusive, i.e., sometimes we remember what never occurred and in such cases the objective constituent cannot be identical with a past event because there is none. Moreover, since the objective constituent of a totally delusive memory situation is internally like the objective constituent of a veridical situation we cannot say that pastness is manifested in the latter but not in the former. The most we can say

70 is that both cases manifest a characteristic (i.e., familiarity) which we take to be a sign of pastness, and that this characteristic is a fallible cue to the existence of a past event. Thus, even if we are on occasion presented with the past, there is nothing in the situation to guarantee that we are, and thus such acquaintance would not explain how we come by the notion of pastness. To put the point differently, since past events do not manifest pastness, we could not abstract the latter from past events even if they were objects of acquaintance. Thus, the naively realistic theory of memory, even if it were true, would not explain how we come by the notion of pastness. There is of course a familiar way, or view, that eliminates Broad's worries about pastness without making it categorial. Upon this view, the notion of pastness can be acquired from attending to the phenomena of the specious present. In a specious present we are aware of duration. For instance, in listening to a clock striking I may still hear the first stroke when I hear the second and if I quickly move my arm I may still see the arm in the left side of my visual field while seeing it in the right. On such occasions the relation of temporal precedence is given to us as, one says, in a specious present. Then, one may conceive of the past as consisting of all and only those events that immediately or remotely precede some present event. But it is not the purpose of this study to defend, or even restate in any detail, this familiar position.

71 NOTES CHAPTER III 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

MPN, p. 225. MPN, p. 233. MPN, p. 233. MPN, p. 234. MPN, p. 237. MPN, p. 236. MPN, p. 242. MPN, pp. 245-46. MPN, p.246. MPN, p. 247. MPN, p. 248. MPN, p. 248. MPN, p. 248. MPN, p. 272. MPN, pp. 246-47; italics added. MPN, pp. 266-67, MPN, p. 268. John M.E. McTaggart, The Nature of Existence, ed., C.D. Broad, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1927), vol. II, p. 15. John M.E. McTaggart, "The Unreality of Time," Mind, vol. XVIII, no. 68, (October 1908), p. 460, and reprinted in Philosophical Studies, ed. S.V. Keeling, (New York: Longmans, Green & Co. 1934), p. 114. McTaggart, Philosophical Studies, p. 114. MPN, pp. 251-52. MPN, p. 252. MPN, p. 254. MPN, p. 258. MPN, p. 259. MPN, p. 263.

Chapter IV INTROSPECTION

O

n Broad's analysis, we saw that mental events such as sensing a noise, perceiving a bell, or remembering a tie one wore yesterday share a feature: they all involve the relation of intuitive apprehension between a mass of bodily feelings on the subjective side and a particular sensum or imitative image on the objective side. Call this common feature the "cognitive core." In addition to the cognitive core some mental acts involve a judgment as an essential constituent, i.e., a judging relation between a mass and an abstractum. Having proposed these analyses in the chapters on perception and memory, he attempts to give them an epistemological foundation in the chapter on introspection. More specifically, he attempts to establish that we can have introspective knowledge of the relations between and among the constituents of mental acts. Although the analysis of our introspective knowledge of relational mental situations is of primary importance in the chapter on introspection, it is by no means the only important topic discussed there. Another topic specifically about minds which is worthy of our consideration is his description of the Pure Ego and of our knowledge of it. I shall therefore divide this chapter into two sections. In the first I shall discuss his account of the general features of introspection and certain issues involved in the Pure Ego Theory. Then I shall turn to his analysis of our introspective knowledge of mental events, and argue that even if relations are constituents of cognitive situations, we cannot, on his analysis know them. I According to Broad, three general characteristics belong to any process that deserves to be called "introspection." The first shows that introspection is more like perception than memory since, It must be intuitive, like perception, and not merely discursive. That is, it must not consist simply of judgments about minds and their states, and minds and their states must not be known simply as the subjects of such and such propositions.... if there is introspection, our minds or certain states of them must be or seem to be objective constituents of introspective situa-

74 tions....1

Introspection thus is intuitive because, phenomenologically, the present objective constituent is believed to be literally identical with a mind or a state of mind. In introspection, that is, objects, rather than propositions, are primarily intended. Yet propositions are also intended: No doubt, if there is introspection, there will be introspective judgments; and these like perceptual judgments will be about their subjects....And introspective judgments must state explicitly the characteristics which the objective constituents of the introspective situations manifest.2

Nor of course is this very surprising. Since the intentions of all judgments are propositions, so are the intentions of introspective judgments. Hence all introspective situations of this world involve two kinds of objects: existent objective constituents and an abstract proposition. A second characteristic of all introspective situations shows their likeness to both perceptual and memory situations. In all three, the judgments are non-inferential. Introspective judgments, like memory judgments, of course may be "based on" or "caused by" characteristics manifested by the objective constituents; yet they are not inferred from the latter. The third characteristic separates the introspective situation from all others; because only in it do we claim to know either the self or at least some mental event which is a state of that self. Before we can decide whether we have introspective knowledge of the self and its (mental) states we must therefore, determine what philosophers have taken these entities to be. According to Broad, the self is like a physical object in that at any one moment they both contain a number of different events united into a single total state. Moreover, they have successive temporal cross-sections united together, either into the history of a single self or that of a single physical object. In view of these two similarities, we may, ...regard each as a persistent substance which passes through successive total phases, each of which in turn consists of distinguishable but temporarily overlapping events.3

On some theories, however, the persistence of a substance involves not just the "duration" generated by its history, but, rather, a literal continuant. Broad does take cognizance of some philosophers having taken the self to

75 be something more than merely a succession of interrelated mental events; yet, surprisingly, he denies that anybody ever held this view about physical objects. It is very commonly believed that the characteristic unity of the various events in one slice of the history of a self, and the characteristic unity of the successive slices of the total history of a self, depend on the presence of a peculiar constituent in every self. This peculiar constituent is called the "Pure Ego". I do not think that anyone seriously holds a similar view about the characteristic unity of a physical object.4

This alleged additional constituent leads him to distinguish three possible notions of "Self." The self may be the pure ego alone; it may be the pure ego together with the mental states which it "owns"; or it may be a whole of interrelated mental states without a pure ego. Just to call the self a pure ego is to propose a name without saying what it names. Broad suggests two possibilities: (1) We might suppose that the Pure Ego is a single long strand of history of which each slice is exactly like every other slice in all its qualities.5 (2) A second possible view is that the Pure Ego is a timeless particular and not a long uniform strand of history.6

(1) Is not the traditional notion of a pure ego, for on this view it would be merely a series of momentary particulars. (2), on the other hand, involves the notion of a "timeless particular." We first came across this troublesome notion when examining that of "substantival" absolute space (pp. 47-49). There it was pointed out that space may be "timeless" in that it exists at all moments or, synonymously, that it lasts through all time. A pure ego cannot be a timeless particular in this strong sense. Nor can we say that a "timeless" pure ego is literally outside of time as is, say, a universal, or, synonymously, that it is eternal. Thus, when calling it timeless, he can plausibly only mean that it is a single entity that exists at all moments which are elements in the successive clusters jointly constituting its history. This, though, is not the crucial difference between substantival space and substantival mind. Most crucially, in Broad's ontology timeless space is redundant; for it is not needed to individuate a physical cluster; the diads (pji, tij) will do that without further support. A timeless ego, on the other hand, is not ontologically redundant. Mental events do not have spatial de-

76 terminates to ground the difference between two simultaneous thoughts with the same intention. Thus, in a world like Broad's numerically diverse pure egos would at least do a job.7 In the chapter on Introspection, Broad does not inquire which of the three pure ego theories is true; rather, he takes it for granted that there is a pure ego and asks whether we can have introspective knowledge of it. When looking into ourselves, are we ever aware of a pure ego or of a slice of the history of a pure ego? If we make a careful phenomenological inspection, we must, he says, admit, ... (i) that the Pure Ego is never the whole of the objective constituent of any introspective situation, even if the whole Pure Ego be part of the objective constituent of every introspective situation; and (ii) that, even if the whole Pure Ego be part of the objective constituent of every introspective situation, it never manifests any of its empirical qualities, as the other part of the total objective constituent does.8

It follows that, while we cannot conclude from (i) and (ii) that the pure ego does not exist, we can conclude that if it exists we can know it only discursively, i.e., as the subject of a certain proposition. Moreover, his suggestion as to how we may come to know that there is a pure ego foreshadows, as we shall see, his account of how we come to know relational mental acts. We shall have to suppose that each particular mental event which we become acquainted with in an introspective situation manifests in that situation the relational property of "being owned by something”; that, on comparison and reflexion, we can see that this "something" is the same for all the mental events which we can introspect, whether they be successive or simultaneous, and that it is not itself a mental event or a group of interrelated mental events. The Pure Ego would then be known discursively, but not of necessity inferentially, as the common owner of such and such particular contemporary and successive mental events.9

The distinctive feature of this account is that one can know that two entities stand in a relation by being presented with only one of its terms! What makes this feature so problematic in the case at hand is that we have never been so presented with an instance of the relation in question. How can a mental event manifest the relational property of "being owned by something" if we have never been presented with "something" owning a mental event? Since Broad does not answer this question we must conclude that the epistemological status of a pure ego is indeed problematic. If one rejects the pure ego view of the self, he or she is left with what

77 Broad calls the "Empirical Self" i.e., "the whole complex of contemporary and successive interrelated mental events which together constitute our mental history."10 Although the empirical self as a whole cannot be introspected, there is no reason why a (temporal) slice of it couldn't; and it is in fact Broad's view that "the introspective situation does claim that its objective constituent is literally a part of a slice of the history of a certain Empirical self."11 Thus, the question of our alleged introspective knowledge of the self qua empirical self depends on our alleged introspective knowledge of some of the slices of interrelated mental events of which it is composed. II Different sorts of events have been called mental; different sorts of cognitions have been called introspective. Broad divides into two groups the events which some have claimed they know by introspection. On the one hand, there are homogeneous events, such as bodily feelings, noises, and colored patches, on the other, there are heterogeneous events such as the hearing of a noise or the perceiving of a bell. The difference between these two kinds is brought out in the following passage: [In the case of a colored patch or a bodily feeling] all the parts which we can distinguish seem to be of the same kind as each other and as the whole which they compose. Moreover, the parts of the whole are united to form the whole by the unique relation of spatial, temporal, or spatio-temporal adjunction. This is what I mean by calling toothaches, noises, coloured patches, flashes, etc., "homogeneous events". Now there are other events, which some people say that we can introspect, that are certainly not homogeneous in this sense. E.g., a perceptual situation...is not a homogeneous event in the sense defined. For it is a complex in which we can distinguish an objective constituent, a subjective constituent, and a characteristic relation between them which is not that of adjunction. We may call it a "heterogeneous" event.12

Since all the parts of, say, red patches are particulars, and a patch itself is of the same kind as its parts, it follows that the patch itself is a particular. A heterogeneous event, on the other hand, is a complex. Since propositions are the only complexes Broad has hitherto spoken of, one is tempted to infer that the distinction he here makes is merely the familiar ontological one between existents and abstracta. However, if this were the basis of the distinction, then it could not be sustained; for heterogeneous events do contain

78 existents and, as we saw, a "complex" containing existents must itself be an existent. Nor can the difference be located in heterogeneous events involving relations whereas homogeneous ones do not, if one holds with Broad that the parts of, say, a red patch, are related by spatial adjunction. At most one could hold that there are different types of relations, respectively involved in the different events. To avoid committing himself on the question of whether homogeneous events are mental, he calls the situations in which we attend to them "inspective," those situations in which we attend to heterogeneous events "introspective", and analyses them as follows. A. Inspective Situations The discussion starts with the distinction between the two relations of being sensed and of being selected. What is sensed is a visual field as a whole; what is selected is some part of that field, say, a visual appearance of a penny. Though every part of a visual field that is selected is also sensed, there may be parts of it that are sensed but not selected. If, however, a part is selected then it is either used for perceiving a physical object or it is inspected with a view to determining its apparent characteristics. But we cannot both perceive with and inspect one and the same objective constituent. Thus there is a problem: ...if what I inspect be probably never numerically the same as what I have perceived with, what right have I to believe that the objective constituent of the past perceptual situation had (or would have seemed to have) those characteristics which the objective constituent of the present inspective situation does now seem to have?13

He goes on to say that No conclusive reason can be given for this belief; it is a memory judgment, and the correctness of memory in general cannot be proved by argument.14

The point, to repeat, is that in order to learn about the properties of an objective constituent of an immediately past perceptual or memory situation we must use both inspection and memory. With this background established, we are ready for two questions: (1) What is the difference between sensing a sensum and inspecting it? (2) What is the relation between inspection and memory? Concerning (1),

79 Broad maintains that while both involve the cognitive core, inspection also involves a judgment. Concerning (2), there are two passages that give pause. The purely inspective situation does not refer to the past; it merely professes to describe the apparent characteristics of its own objective constituent. But the objective constituent of an inspective situation is very often the objective constituent of a co-existing memory-situation. And the epistemological object of this memory-situation is such that, if anything corresponds to it, this corresponding object is the objective constituent of an immediately previous perceptual situation....15 We must not confuse the pure inspective judgment with the memory judgment which so often accompanies it and is based on the same objective constituent.16

Does that mean that an inspective situation is sometimes—or, remembering Broad's hostility to specious present, perhaps always—“built on” a memory situation? For what I shall try to bring out, this complication makes no difference. It will suffice to assume that, like memory, inspection involves a subjective mass and two relations, one to a particular existent, the other to a proposition about it. B. Introspective Situations Here we finally reach the heart of the matter. How shall we analyze our knowledge, of the "immediate" sort he quite properly calls introspective knowledge, of those events which are ...indubitably mental and indubitably part of our mental history such as, e.g., "being aware of a noise", "contemplating an image", "remembering a past event", "seeing a penny", and so on.17

He begins by dividing all mental events into two classes, viz. (i) those which do, and (ii) those which do not have an external reference to an epistemological object. As we have seen, perceptual and memory-situations belong to the former class. So far as I can see, purely inspective situations would belong to the latter class.18

Since in Broad's world an epistemological object is literally nothing, the distinction between (i) and (ii) is spurious. Even if there were epistemo-

80 logical objects the distinction would still break down, for a few pages earlier we were also told that [A] situation may contain as an essential constituent a judgment, or some other psychological attitude, such as supposition, whose "objective" (to use Meinong’s expression) is a certain proposition or set of propositions. The epistemological object of the situation is determined by these propositions.19

Clearly, therefore, since an inspective situation contains propositions it also involves a "reference to an epistemological object." Even more confusingly, there is an important sense in which both situations are fundamentally the same, i.e., they both involve the same fundamental epistemological problem viz., how can we introspectively know the relations that are said to be the constituents of the situations?20 This epistemological question leads us to an ontological one that has so far been ignored in this study, namely, "What are relations?" It can be shown, I believe, that in Broad's world relations are universals that obtain between and among universals. The evidence for this claim that relations are abstract universals and not particular existents is textual. I do not think that Abstracta can even be unambiguously described except by saying that they are real but non-existent. But they can be indicated enumeratively. This class of realities includes qualities, relations, numbers, and also propositions and classes if there be such entities.21

Another passage is even more explicit. It is his reply to the argument that we cannot know that relational mental situations exist because we cannot directly observe relations between the mind and its objects. The argument seems to assume that, if objective mental situations consisted of an objective and a non-objective constituent related in a certain way, the relation (which is a universal) must be known in the same way as the objective constituent (which is a particular). And this demand is absurd.22

These passages leave no doubt that for Broad relations are universals. But what do relational universals relate? More specifically, what is the ontological assay of a relational fact such as "a is darker than b"? Let's approach this question by asking another: What goes on when I directly know, as I sometimes do, that a is darker than b? The answer is familiar. We intuitively apprehend the particular existents (sensa) a and b, and then

81 directly and non-inferentially judge the proposition that "a is darker than b." When I look at a pattern composed of three dots A, B, and C, arranged in that order on a line, I know intuitively that B is between A and C. But I do not "see" the relation of between in the sense in which I "see" the dots; though it would be quite in accordance with the usage to say that "I see that B is between A and C." Now no one in his senses supposes that the fact that I "see" nothing but the dots proves, either that the dots are not in fact related in a certain order by the relation of "between", or that I do not know this relation in a perfectly direct and non-inferential way.23

In another passage the same pattern is repeated. Now suppose that there were complexes of this kind [e.g., sensing a noise,] and that I were acquainted with them introspectively, we ought not to expect the relating relation which makes this a complex of such and such a structure to be presented to us in the same way as the substantial constituents.24

Both passages give credence to the reading of Broad that I proposed. For they most explicitly state, not only that there are two ways of being presented with an entity depending on whether it is a concretum or abstraction, but also that being presented with two entities in a relation is to be presented with an abstractum or proposition. Now we know that a proposition cannot contain existents and so can only contain universals. Hence the proposition that "a is darker than b" must be assayed as the cluster (ADB), where "A" and "B" are the universals in which a and b "participate" and "D," of course, is the relational universal "darker than." Therefore, in Broad's ontology, when "a is darker than b" is true, there exist only the two entities a and b, but there subsists also a cluster of three (ADB). In the light of the proposed assay of relations, what is to be said about the "relations" between existents and abstracta? Clearly, such "relations" cannot be relational particulars for in this world, as we have just shown, there are none. And even if there were some, they would obtain between existents, not between existents and abstracta. Nor could we assay such "relations" as relational universals, for the latter only obtain between and among abstracta (universals), but the former only obtain between existents and abstracta. Where then are we to fit the so called "relational" entities of "characterising," or "participation," and of "judging?" The trouble is

82 that since they are neither existents nor abstracta, there is within Broad's division of reality no systematic place for them. To repeat, in Broad's ontology, the "connections" that are supposed to obtain between existents and abstracta are nothing. Up to now we have been almost exclusively concerned with the ontological rather than the epistemological status of relations. We have asked what a relation is, not how it is known. Broad maintains that we can have introspective knowledge of relational mental situations such as (a) "sensing a noise," and (b) "judging (the proposition) that this is green." Nothing so far precludes introspective knowledge of (a), but it does preclude such knowledge of (b). For if I am right, then judging is nothing, and if judging is nothing then any situation in which it is supposed to occur cannot be known. I shall next buttress my argument to the effect that judging, since it cannot be treated as an ordinary relation, has no place in Broad's ontology, by showing that there are relevant differences in his account of our introspective knowledge of (a) and (b) and that these differences make knowledge of (b) impossible. Let us begin by considering our knowledge of what Broad calls "objective but not referential situation," such as sensing a noise. Ontologically, the mental relation of sensing is treated in the same way as the physical relation of "darker than." When one senses a noise there is a subjective constituent or sensum, call it a; the mass sensing it, call it ma; and the complex relational proposition that (Ma I A); where Ma and A are the universals or cluster of universals in which ma and a participate, and I is the relational universal sensing. Epistemologically, too, they are treated in the same way. For, when one knows that there is a sensing of a noise, he is presented with (i.e., he intuitively apprehends) two existents and is also presented with (i.e. judges) the proposition that one senses the other. If they [i.e., those who argue against introspective knowledge of relational mental acts] contented themselves by saying: ‘When I try to introspect the sensing of a noise or the feeling of a pang of toothache the only particular existents which are intuitively presented to me are the noise or the toothache and certain bodily feelings,’ they might be approximately or exactly right. But it seems to me perfectly clear that these particular existents are presented to me as terms, each of which occupies a characteristic position in a complex of a certain specific kind. This complex is the objective mental situation of sensing the noise or feeling the toothache; and we have direct non-inferential knowledge of its relating relation, as we have of the relating relation of "between" when a pattern of three dots in a line is presented to our inspection.25

83 The last sentence leaves no doubt that mental and physical relations are known in the same way. It will be useful if we make explicit what is there, ontologically, when we know that there is a sensing of a noise. There are the objective constituents, a and ma; the external constituent i.e., the proposition known, (Ma I A); and the subjective mass differentiated into three parts, ma, mma, and m(Ma I A), which account for our being aware of or intending, a, ma, and (Ma I A), respectively. This assay reveals two very important features. First, there is a part of the subjective mass that intends the proposition (Ma I A), which has "I" among its subscripts. That is, in knowing the relational complex "ma sensing a" there is a proposition there to be known and a mass of feeling to "intend" it. Second, we have knowledge of the mental relation of sensing in exactly the same sense in which we have knowledge of a "physical" relation such as “darker than.” Thus, if the latter knowledge is “direct,” so is the former. Let us consider once more the "connection" between m(Ma I A) and (Ma I A). If there were a universal judging, call it J, there would be the proposition M(Ma I A) J (Ma I A), of which I would be directly aware when I know (i.e., synonymously, when I introspect) my sensing. We know that there is in this world no such proposition. Ontologically that merely pinpoints once more the gap. Epistemologically, it moves into focus when we ask ourselves what is there when one knows that he judges, i.e., when he introspects a judgment. What is there when one judges that this is green? There is, as always, the cognitive core, a subjective mass ma and an objective constituent a. In addition, there is the proposition judged, G(A).26 But the judgment would remain ungrounded unless there is in my mind something which is there if and only if I judge that G(A). This something, on the subjective side, can only be a mass mG(A) which intends or judges G(A). Suppose I now introspect this judging. If it is to be known in the same way ordinary relations are known, then its assay would have to be analogous to those cases, already assayed, in which direct knowledge of a relational universal has been claimed on the strength of the occurrence of a mass such that, in the notation employed, the letter for the relational universal occurs in "its" subscript. In the case of darker than, for one, there are not only a, b, ma, and ma , but also mADB. In the case of (inspecting a) sensing, for another, there are not only ma and mma but also (Ma I A) and m(Ma I A). Analogously, in the case at hand, of knowing that one judges, i.e., introspecting a judging, there would have to be not only a and mG(A) but also (1)

84 MG(A) J G(A) and (2) mMG(A) J G(A). If (2) were there, then Broad could at least consistently claim that we know all of the three relational universals directly. But we know already that (1), and hence (2), are not there. Nor does Broad claim that they are. He merely claims, as I shall show next, that when, not just judging that something is green, we know (introspect) this judgment, what is there "in addition" is mmG(A). In other words, he must hold, and does hold, that we "directly" know, in the sense of directly knowing which he specifies, a supposed relational universal of judging without directly knowing more than one of its terms. That undermines his notion of judging epistemologically. Let us now see whether the text bears out this reading, It seems very doubtful whether I can at the same time refer to an epistemological object and also make the mental situation which has this external reference into an objective constituent of an introspective situation. For this would require a division of attention between two very different objects, and it is doubtful whether we can accomplish anything more than a quick alternation of attention backwards and forwards between the two. Here I think we must draw a distinction between two very different cases? viz., (i) attending simultaneously to two objects of the same order, and (ii) attending to a situation which itself involves attending to something else. It is the latter of these which I doubt to be possible; and this would be involved by the claim to introspect perceptual and memory situations.27

Yet we can, and sometimes do, attend to both the subjective and objective constituents (sensa, images) of a situation that involves a judgment, and whenever we do we know that there was a judging: The images, feelings, etc., were purely subjective constituents of the original perceptual situation. The feelings, images, etc., which continue and resemble them in the introspected situation, are now psychologically objectified; i.e., they have become objective constituents of the introspective situation. The latter contains a new subjective constituent, which consists of (or, at any rate, includes) those bodily feelings which are characteristic of the purely theoretic and contemplative situation of introspecting as distinct from active and practical situation of perceiving. And this new subjective constituent is related in a characteristic way to the introspected situation and its constituents, so that the whole thus formed contains the latter as its objective constituent. In contemplating the constituents and the structure of the present introspected situation we remember the similar constituents and the analogous, but not identical, structure of the immediately past perceptual situation.28

85 In the first of these passages Broad worries about the complication of "memory," which he here claims afflicts all judging and therefore, according to him also perceiving and remembering. In the second passage he tells us that the original cognitive core of a perceptual (or judgmental) situation is replaced by its "objectified" representative. But then he tells us that what distinguishes this subjective representative, and therefore presumably its original, from the introspective situation is merely a supervening new subjective constituent of bodily feelings which are, in a characteristic way related to the representative. These characteristic feelings are, we remember, the masses characteristically adapted to their presumable intention. I conclude, therefore, that in the paradigm that new subjective constituent is, or at any rate, includes mmG(A). Thus, I submit, the text supports my reading. But the matter is crucial, so I repeat once more. Broad holds that in being aware of a certain feeling I can know that there is (was) a judging of a proposition. This is inadequate. How can one know that a certain relation obtains between two entities if one has never been presented with an instance of it? Moreover, how under the circumstances can the intending of a certain mass give rise to the awareness that there was this rather than some other relation? Even worse, how can the intending of a single mass mG(A) account for one's awareness of any relation at all? The last question brings us back to the epistemological heart of the matter. Broad's account of our sometimes knowing that we judge something differs from his account of our knowledge of "ordinary relations" among existents, such as being darker than and, if there is such a thing, sensing. To sum up, what I hope to have shown in this chapter is that in Broad's world relations are abstracta that obtain between universals, and there is therefore no systematic place in it for "relations" between existents and abstracta. Consequently, the "connection" between a thought and what it is thought of, which he calls "judging," remains unaccounted for. Nor is even that the full extent of the calamity. Ontologically, such relational facts as a being-darker-than-b and, presumably, a mass-sensing-a-sensum are in this universe represented by propositions. But we cannot know propositions without judging them. Nor, as was shown, can we "directly" know any judging. Thus the epistemological basis of the "direct" knowledge which we presumably have of some "ordinary relations" is also weakened to say the least.

86 NOTES CHAPTER IV 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20.

21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

27. 28.

MPN, p. 276. MPN, p. 276. MPN, p. 277. MPN, p. 278. MPN, p. 278. MPN, p. 279. Brentano thought that for this very reason they were indispensable. This, though, is another story. MPN, p. 281 MPN, pp. 281-82. MPN, p. 282. MPN, p. 285. MPN, pp. 289-90 MPN, p. 298. MPN, p. 298. MPN, p. 299. MPN, p. 300. MPN, p. 305. MPN, p. 305. MPN, p. 292. Since Broad classifies mental events such as "sensing" a noise," or "feeling a toothache," in group (ii), he may be meaning to draw a distinction between those events (ii) which involve the "cognitive core." and those (i) which involve the "cognitive core" and the relation of judging to a proposition. In that case, inspective situations belong to (i) and not (ii) as Broad says. MPN, p. 19; italics added. MPN, pp. 586-87. MPN, p. 309. MPN, p. 308. MPN, p. 309. (A) is shorthand for TiPj. Notice that I ignore the knowledge, presumably also there, of the sensing in the case, i.e., the proposition (Ma I A) and the mass meant to intend it. The flaw in the system which is the reason for this temporary "simplification" will be brought out in the last chapter. MPN, p. 311. MPN, p. 313; italics added.

Chapter V CONCLUSION In this study I have discussed several aspects of the ontology of Broad's The Mind and Its Place in Nature and to conclude I wish to bring some of its most important aspects together. This will, I hope, serve to bring to light the basic ontological structure of his system as well as some of the confusions and weaknesses inherent in it. Time plays a fundamental role in Broad's ontology; it and it alone is the ultimate basis of the bifurcation of reality into the two fundamental categories of existents (concreta) and abstracta (non-existents). For whatever is in time exists; whatever is timeless does not. What then of time itself? Is it an existent or a nonexistent? Since on Broad's view time must be one or the other, the question is a legitimate one. The very fact of its legitimacy, however, spots a basic weakness in his system. The weakness is that an appeal to time as an ontological classifier is circular. To know whether an entity exists or not one must first know if it is "in time," but one cannot know what it would mean for an entity to be in time unless one knows what time is. Yet one cannot know what time is unless one knows whether it exists or does not exist. There must, therefore, be some categorial ultimate other than time, which enables us to determine the category time belongs to. Hence, the appeal to the feature of "being in time," or "not being in time," as a means of distinguishing what exists from what does not, is circular. This point may be pinned down in another way. Broad appeals to time as a means of distinguishing different ontological kinds of entities. It is not intended to distinguish what is an entity from what is literally nothing. Rather, he uses time, if I may so speak, as an ontological classifier. Particulars which are in time exist; universals, propositions and other abstracta which are not in time do not exist. Russell and others have maintained that temporal (and spatial) properties and relations are universals among universals and thus cannot be used as a ground for distinguishing universals and particulars. In other words, they say that time cannot serve as a categorial ultimate or classifier because it is just the sort of entity that needs to be classified.

88 According to Broad, however, time is a classifier and this commitment or belief gives his ontology a distinctive turn. Since all existents are in time and only particulars are in time it follows that only particulars exist. Broad, as we know, freely and unhesitatingly embraces this position, but he is not as clear about what it means as he ought to be. To show where the confusions lie and to diagnose why they arise I shall recall three notions of what philosophers have taken particulars to be. According to one traditional notion a particular is a bare entity, a mere individuator and support of qualities. A so-called bare particular may be either momentary or continuant. In some ontologies there are no bare particulars but there are simple particulars which are supposed to be numerically different from, but qualitatively similar to all other particulars of the same kind. Such are the quality instances or perfect particulars that have been referred to already in this study. A third traditional notion of a particular is that of an Aristotelian substance. In one sense of "substance" Aristotle used the word to refer to a composite of matter (stuff) and form (essence). The form of a substance determines its kind (e.g., man, dog); their respective matter individuates substances of the same kind. The composite is thought of as a literal continuant because it does not change even though the (accidental) properties that inhere in it change. A further important feature of an Aristotelian substance is that it is an agent. The accidental properties that a substance has are, for the most part, produced by, and dependent on it. That is, if there were no substances qua agents, then there would not be any accidents. Structurally, even if not in strict logic, the connection is even closer. Specifically, the notion of a (causal) agent which is not a continuant makes no sense. For agency cannot be thought of except in anthropomorphic terms, i.e., it involves purpose, and a momentary agent ceasing to exist immediately after performing an action would have no reason or purpose to act, and would therefore be a counterstructural notion. Thus a particular may be either (I) bare, or (II) qualitied, or (III) substantial. (I) and (III) go with one basic pattern, call it "inhering"; (II) goes with quite a different pattern, call it "clustering." So we must ask: Which of the three notions and the two patterns does Broad opt for? By the inherence pattern a particular may be either bare (I) or substantial (III); but many arguments and statements in the text rule out (I) as a plausible interpretation of "particular" in Broad's system. In the case of physical bodies, for example, he maintains that nobody ever thought that there were bare entities:

89 It is very commonly believed that the characteristic unity of the various events in one slice of the history of a self, and the characteristic unity of the successive slices of the total history of a self, depend on the presence of a peculiar constituent in every self. This peculiar constituent is called the "Pure Ego". I do not think that anyone seriously holds a similar view about the characteristic unity of a physical object.1

The rejection of "absolute space in the substantival sense" is further evidence that he rejects bare entities in the physical realm. For, he describes substantival space as a "timeless particular" whose parts are also timeless particulars which differ solo numero and in which various qualities inhere. Similarly, he describes a Pure Ego or mental substance as a timeless particular which owns various mental events. Positively, he avoids substantial space (and time) by introducing spatial and temporal positional qualities and he avoids substantial minds at the price of introducing those rather shadowy mental positional qualities, which I have deliberately ignored. Thus, I submit, there is adequate textual evidence to support the view that Broad's particulars are neither bare nor substantial. But Broad also rejects the notion of a continuant or, as he tends to call it, a "timeless" particular; and this rejection fits with his interpretation of a "particular" substance as a succession or series of clusters of momentary perfect particulars whose duration (as a series) is grounded in the succession of such particulars. The textual evidences for this reading abound. So I let one passage stand for many: One feature that seems to be assumed is that a substance must last for a considerable time. In fact, whatever else it may be, it would seem that it is supposed to be at least a series of events having a certain kind of internal unity and continuity both causal and spatio-temporal, and lasting at least long enough for this unity to be fully manifested.2

Can one say, then, that the existents of this world are all perfect particulars, their clusters, and the series of such clusters? This is the position I attributed to Broad. As I believe to have shown, it dominates The Mind and Its Place in Nature. Or, perhaps, I should rather say, this is the position which can most plausibly—though, alas, not consistently—be read into this book. For there are also the passages which reveal the indelible impact of the Aristotelian notion of substance upon his thinking. One especially revealing passage occurs in the introduction to The Mind and Its Place in Nature.

90 There are certain attributes which anything must have if it is to be a substance at all. I should say that anything that is a substance must have some duration and must be capable of standing in causal relations.3

For a substance to stand in a "causal relation" is, I take it, either to act on, or to be acted on, by another substance, or more simply, to produce one of its attributes. What else could a causal relation be? In one context, call it the anti-Humean context, Broad's substances are causal agents. Such agents literally persist through time and, while persisting, successively produce the several qualities which successively inhere in them. Broad himself quite explicitly insists on the necessary persistence of a "something." We have said that the notion of a substance involves the persistence of something through a lapse of time, and that the longer this something persists the more substantial it is said to be.4

Yet, there is also the other context, dominant in The Mind and Its Place in Nature, where a substance is merely a succession of clusters of perfect particulars. Clearly, these two notions of substance are irreconcilable. Nor will it do to replace, as Broad suggests, the literal sameness of that "something" by some similarity of, and spatial continuity between, the successive clusters. Consider two apples of the same color, say, a certain shade of green. In the Aristotelian tradition, all there is in this case are two accidents which, like the substances in which they inhere, are particulars. Broad remains committed to this sort of nominalism. That is why in his world the two accidents have become two perfect particulars. Yet, quite probably under the influence of Russell, he is not insensitive to the question to which this gambit gives rise. What is the ontological ground of the two particulars in this case being two greens, say, green1, and green2, rather than two reds, say, red1, and red2, or perhaps, one green and one red, say, green1, and red2? Broad answers this question by introducing universals into his world. There is, for instance, on one side of the bifurcation the universal Green (Gr), and there are on the other side the particulars green1, green2, green3, and so on. How then, do the parties on the two sides of the fence get together? More formally, what is the ontological ground of the connection between a universal and "its" particulars? If Broad cannot answer, his world falls apart.

91 There are three alternatives (a) (Gr, gr1), (Gr, gr2), (Gr, gr3), and so on, are that many clusters of two each, (b) Each of the particulars exemplifies the universal: Gr(gr1), Gr(gr2), Gr(gr3), and so on. c) The connection is grounded in a special relation obtaining between the universal and each of its particulars. The first alternative, (a), is clearly counter structural. The members of a cluster are either all or none in time. Pursuing the second alternative, (b), one arrives at bare particulars. For particulars that exemplify universals are themselves bare. That is why I have, quite deliberately, chosen the unusual notation which puts the expressions for the perfect particulars and the universal into the subject and the predicate place, respectively. Notice, though, that the word "inherence" was just used broadly when I listed the alternatives to clustering: it is either exemplification by a bare particular or, the inherence in the narrower sense, of an accident in a substance. Be that as it may, we know that Broad rejects bare particulars. That leaves only the third alternative, (c), i.e., a special relation which not unreasonably one may, as in fact I did, call Platonic participation. That leads to the next question. If Platonic participation is a special relation that must be grounded in the system, what in it is the ground of relations in general? We know the answer, yet it will help if we rehearse it in the context of this conclusion. In the Aristotelian tradition relations take the back seat. The idea is that if, as one says, a stands in the relation R to b, what is really there are two "correlative" accidents inhering in a and b, respectively. Or, to say the same thing differently, in order to leave no doubt, what is really there are two correlative properties, say PR and QR so that a has PR and b has QR. Thus one may believe that relations fit into the (monadic) inherence scheme. Russell shattered this belief. And again, one may reasonably speculate, Broad was sufficiently disturbed by his arguments to feel the need for a nonmonadic ontological ground of relations. His solution, we know, was to make all relations universals. For an example, let c1 and e1 be two pitch particulars which participate in the monadic universals C and E respectively. Then there is—according to Broad, as I read him—among the timeless entities (not: existents) the proposition (E Hg C); i.e., the ternary cluster whose members are the two pitch universals, C and E, and, in addition, the relation higher-than (Hg). As in the paradigm, so obviously in all cases. Broad's relations are all eternal objects that occur only in propositions.6 That is how he manages to keep the concrete half of his world as impoverished as it is: a uni-

92 verse of perfect particulars, their clusters, and nothing else, while still giving some ontological status to relations. To see why, in spite of that, Broad's world falls apart, one has only to turn to the special relation of participation. Take once more the universal Green (Gr), one of its particulars, say gr1, and let "Pp" stand for Platonic participation. If the latter were a relation, the proposition grounding the connection between gr1, and Gr would have to be (gr1 Pp Gr), i.e., a cluster such that, while two of its three members are universals, the third is a concretum in time. But we are by now only too familiar with the argument to the effect that there is in this world no such proposition. For if there were, such a cluster straddling the great bifurcation then it would itself come into being when the concretum gr1 does. But what comes into being cannot be a proposition. There are, as we saw at the outset, three alternative ways of connecting the two halves of Broad's world. Two of them, we called them (a) and (b) were easily dismissed as counterstructural. So we now see, as the result of some very simple yet fundamental considerations, is the one called (c). There is no place for Platonic participation in this world. Thus there is an unbridgeable ontological gap between the two halves. Broad himself, as we know, blithely ignores participation. Yet he tells us a great deal about another connection across the ontological gap. Some of his concreta "think" about some of his abstracta, or make "judgments" about them. What, then, about judging? As we saw in the last chapter, there is in this world no such thing. For, if there were, it too would be a relation between the judging concretum and the judged abstractum. Thus, if it makes sense to say such a thing, Broad's world falls apart for a second time. The first time the fatal flaw was in participation, which is allpervasive and more fundamental than anything else. Since this time the flaw is "merely" in judging, and since, as we also saw in the last chapter, even if there were such a thing, we could not upon Broad's standards, know that there is, it will be convenient and should cause no confusion if this time we speak of an unbridgeable epistemological gap. Unless one accurately understands and fully appreciates the epistemological gap in the world of The Mind and Its Place in Nature, one can of course not do justice to the detailed analysis of perception which is one of the main themes of that book. Thus it will serve our purpose if we next review the main lines of this analysis, together with the criticisms that I have offered. In traditional terms Broad may be called a "representative realist"; for he maintains that we are directly presented with entities (sensa) that are

93 neither physical nor mental but represent what is physical to the mind. He is aware of the difficulties that plague representationalism, but feels constrained to adopt it for two reasons. The first is his scientific bias. He believes physical existents to be what science tells us they are, characterized only by primary qualities. Thus he concludes that the immediate objects of perception, all of which have both primary and secondary qualities, cannot be identical with physical objects. Secondly, he believes that, considering the familiar phenomena of qualitative and existential error, we can maintain that we immediately perceive physical objects only if we adopt either the Multiple Inherence Theory or the Multiple Appearing Theory. However, both these theories have consequences he finds unacceptable. They force one either (a) to assay phenomenologically monadic properties as ontologically dyadic, or (b) to assume "empty space-time cells" in the case of mirror images and existential error. Broad thus adopts the "Sensum Theory" and attempts to analyze all perceptual situations within this representationalist context. He makes a four-fold distinction. There are (i) selves, i.e., masses of feeling, emotions, expectations, and so on, and there are (ii) sensa. There are presumably (iii) epistemological objects and (iv) ontological objects. Considering (ii) and (iv), one may wonder why in this world "all perceptual situations necessarily have epistemological objects.” 7 I suggested that Broad was struck by the fact of our being aware of whole perceptual objects. Yet, not surprisingly, with so many sorts of objects being there to be intended, the epistemological object gets confused with the others and the phenomenological fact itself gets lost. Let us trace this failure. On Broad's view, a mass of feelings senses a sensum, which in turn "triggers" a judging, which on the side of the self is but another mass, about either the sensum's connection with the "whole" object or about some property of the latter. The word "whole" spots the confusion. Which "whole" object is the judgment about, (iii), (iv) or both? Broad is never clear. Sometimes the propositions believed are about epistemological objects. In all perceptual situations there is an external reference beyond the objective constituent; and, if you asked the ordinary man to make this reference explicit, he would say that the objective constituent is literally part of a certain physical object of larger size and longer duration, which are possesses many qualities beside those which are sensuously manifested to him in the perceptual situation. It is in virtue of this external reference that the perceptual situation has the epistemological object which it does have; for the

94 epistemological object just is this whole of which the objective constituent is believed to be a part.8

Or again, ...the belief that the objective constituent of a perceptual situation is a spatio-temporal part of a larger whole which corresponds accurately to the epistemological object of the situation.9

At still other times, it is entirely unclear which of the two "whole" objects is intended. For example, we are told that in perceptual situations, It is true that we...perceive objects and that we perceive propositions about objects. I see a tie, and I see that the tie is green.10

Even more puzzling than the confusion concerning which proposition is triggered by sensing is, what he says and does not say about another issue. What kind of intending is involved in perception, and exactly what is intended? One may accept Broad's claim that if the existence of "physical" objects has some initial probability then the coherence of sensa gives it a high final one. But this only makes more urgent that he answer the two questions which his neo-Kantian verbalisms merely dodge. (1) What is it that has the initial probability? (2) Whatever it may be, how do we manage to "think" it? Concerning (1) he tells us that the notion of a physical object is a "category" defined by a set of "postulates" and that ...the objective constituent of perceptual situations are not instances of this concept; and it is only in virtue of these postulates that we can hold that they are "parts of" or "manifestations of" instances of this concept.11

This is as good an example as any of what I deprecated as neo-Kantian verbalisms. If the objective constituents are not instances of the category of physical object then what are its instances? What do the postulates which define the concept have falling under them? Concerning (2), he says, The concept is not "got out of" experience until it has been "put into" experience. It is best described as an innate principle of interpretation which we apply to the data of sense-perception.12

Again, the appeal to an "innate principle" is not an answer but merely

95 dodges (2). Is it perhaps that Broad found comfort in these formulae because he did at this point not clearly distinguish between the ontological object, whatever that may be, and the "epistemological object," which in matter of phenomenological fact we do manage to intend? If so, his comfort would be short-lived since (a) on his own account there are no epistemological objects and therefore no propositions about them; and since (b) even if there were epistemological objects there could not be any judgments about them. Concerning (a), as was just recalled, the part of the mass which is there if and only if there is in addition to the sensum also "external reference," is fitted to the sensum itself. But such "fittingness" is in this world the essence of intending. Thus only a sensum, and never an epistemological object, is ever really intended. Concerning (b), whenever this additional mass is there, so is the belief which upon Broad's account is implicit in perceiving. But beliefs are judgments; and, as we know, there cannot be any in this world. I conclude, therefore that Broad's analysis of perception does not secure what he himself takes to be part of what every such analysis must secure, namely, that all perception must necessarily involve an awareness of "whole" objects. Nor is even that the only problem besetting his analysis. There is, we may recall, still another failure that can be fitted into the picture of Broad's major preconceptions and preoccupations. (c) Even if there were in his world judgments, i.e., a certain kind of relation between mental concreta and (abstract) propositions, the concreta to which, he assigns the job of intending propositions couldn't do it. For, all details apart, these clusters, or masses, as we called them, are clusters of "feelings" and "expectations." But to expect is to expect something. Thus expecting is itself intentional and we stand before the second step of an infinite regress; while feelings—according to most and most explicitly, as we know, also according to Broad—are non-intentional. What caused Broad to fumble at this point is, or so one may reasonably speculate, his preoccupation with science and, in particular, with the "empirical" psychology of his own tradition. And he may indeed be partially or entirely correct in holding that whenever a perceptual situation exists, there are not only sensa but also bodily feelings connected with the adjustment of our muscles as well as images and other feelings associated with the excitement of traces; all united together into a characteristic group. But I do not see how this answers any philosophical questions about perception any more than a physical account of what is there when something is red solves any philosophical problems about the nature of qualities. Broad tells us that any situation

96 which has such and such a structure and a certain objective constituent will "have the property of being the perception of a certain epistemological object."13 But it seems to me that this property and the cause of it are two and not one. What has happened here, I submit, is that Broad has blurred the dividing line between science and ontology. This blur also affects another situation to which I turn next. Broad tells us that all perceptual and perceptual memory situations involve what I have referred to as the "cognitive core" i.e., a relation of sensing or intuitive apprehension between a mass of bodily feeling on the subjective side and a particular sensum or imitative image on the objective side. It seems to me that an accurate phenomenological account of the perceptual situation would reveal that there is no conscious sensing. In a situation described as seeing a penny one is not consciously aware of sensing a brown circular patch, but one is aware of a brown penny. Broad may be right in that, when one perceives a penny, certain traces cause specific feelings, images, emotions, and so on, which in turn may trigger the explicit judgment "I perceive a penny." Thus, if by sensing he means a certain physiological process which may trigger a judging I have no quarrel with him. But I do doubt that there is any phenomenological process which goes on, either in the perceptual situation or elsewhere, that can in any ontologically significant sense be set aside as a "sensing." Assume nevertheless, if only for the sake of the argument, that sensing is a specific relation between a feeling, or perhaps a cluster of such, and a sensum. Return to our paradigm and consider the case of sensing a green particular, say, gr1. According to Broad, we recall, in this situation we can "inspect" the sensum, which inspection results in the judgment he expresses by "This is green." Now the intention of this sensing, on the one hand, and of this judgment, on the other, are two and not one, if only because while the former is a particular, the latter, like that of all judgments in this world, is a proposition. What then is this proposition? The point is sensitive. So it will pay if we first exclude an abstract possibility. In Broad's world, there are, as we know, no bare particulars. An ontologist who does countenance these simples need of course not hold that he is ever presented with one that is not qualitied, in the sense of exemplifying at least one universal, which would also be presented to him whenever the particular is. In Broad's world, on the other hand, if the particular sensed were bare, what possible ground, ontologically, and what possible cue, epistemologically, could there be for its falling under "its" universal? Thus reassured, one may, and I shall assume that the entity sensed is

97 the perfect particular gr1. With this assumption, let us return to the question. What is the intention of the inspective judgment Broad expresses by "This is green"? There is only one answer I can think of.14 What one judges inspectively, is that the particular participates in its universal, i.e., in our rudimentary notation, the complex (gr1, Pp Gr). But we know that, for the by now familiar reason, there can be no such complex. Hence, even if there were in this world room for some judgments, such as e.g., that E is higher than C, which we know there isn't for lack of a bona fide judging relation, if I may so express myself, there would yet, for lack of an intention, be no room for this particular judgment that purports to intend (gr1, Pp Gr). Yet, this is the only possible reading of Broad's inspective judgment that the sensum is green. Nor is even that the full extent of the damage. We saw in the last chapter that in Broad's world, even if one could judge, one could not upon his standard of knowing, know that one judges,. Now we see that in the most elementary and fundamental case of an inspective judgment, such as that the sensum I am now having is green, one not only could not know that one judges, but one could from lack of an intention not even judge. Thus we have identified a situation—as elementary as any—in which the combined effect of the ontological and the epistemological gap bring about the complete collapse of the system. The situation is of course not that of just sensing but, rather, as one ordinarily speaks, that of knowing what one senses. The collapse is so complete that I shall venture to fit into a broader pattern the partial cause of it which has only now fully emerged. Many philosophers, all more or less in the Aristotelian tradition, distinguish not only between things and facts, but also, equally sharply, between perceiving things and judging facts. One perceives a tree, which is a thing, but one judges that it is green. Broad, in spite of his valiant efforts to go beyond it, lives and breathes the Aristotelian tradition. Thus he not only mistakenly distinguishes but makes too much of the distinction between, sensing green on the one hand, and knowing (judging) that what is sensed is green on the other. For, if a tree is a thing rather than a fact, so a fortiori is a mere sensum. In some other ontologies, including I believe Russell's, to "sense" something is to be presented with a fact. Even though after this it may seem anticlimactic, I do not think it would be proper to conclude without at least a few words about the influence of McTaggart, from which Broad could never completely free himself, that became another major cause of the collapse.

98 Although I have here and there offered some critical observations about McTaggart's analysis of time, I have not in this essay undertaken to refute it systematically, just as I have not presented but merely mentioned other assays, different from Broad's, of time and memory.15 What I undertook was merely to exhibit two predicaments in which, given two of his gambits—one more, one less fundamental—he finds himself. He holds fast to the objective status, as particulars and as universals, respectively, of at least the first two members of the McTaggart triad. This is one gambit. But, if either of the two universals, Pastness and Presentness, is a member of a propositional complex, then the truth value of this abstract complex would change with time. Thus there cannot be such a complex; for what is time-dependent is concrete. This predicament is pervasive also in a world without minds; and this is, therefore, the more fundamental gambit. According to Broad, any assay of memory requires the objective status of the first two members of the triad. This is the second gambit. That upon the particular assay presented in The Mind and Its Place in Nature the several concrete pastnesses and presentnesses can only be reached "categorially" is not exactly one of its strengths. This though, is not the point right now. The point is, rather, that the two gambits together face Broad with a dilemma between whose horns he cannot escape. Either the two members of the first two universals of McTaggart's triad are or are not there. If they are not there, memory cannot be accounted for. If they are there, then this whole world, with or without minds and memory, collapses. Or, as it was put at the end of the first chapter, each member of a huge and strategic class of propositions, which according to the basic idea of the whole construction are timeless abstracta, collapses into what is time-dependent and therefore a particular existent. In spite of all these shortcomings, is the ontology of Broad's The Mind and Its Place in Nature worth exploring? I believe that it is. Its author, deeply steeped in a great tradition, yet tries valiantly to escape the limitations it inevitably imposes upon him. He deals with a wide range of fundamental philosophical problems lucidly, thoroughly, sometimes ingenuously and for the most part accurately. He presents us with a body of philosophical arguments rich enough to justify the effort of arranging them into a system. The system undoubtedly has its flaws; it may even, as I claim, collapse; yet no one who carefully studies it can fail to learn a good deal from it.

99 NOTES CHAPTER V 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14.

15.

MPN, p. 278. MPN, p. 28. MPN, p. 22. MPN, p. 34. Broad acknowledges his philosophical indebtedness to Russell quite explicitly in a piece he wrote in 1967 for Bertrand Russell Philosopher of the Century. There is thus also a clear-cut difference with respect to type between the two worlds of Broad and Russell. Higher-than will in the latter be a relation between pitch universals, which makes it of the second (Russellian) type. Yet there are in this world undoubtedly also the spatial and temporal relations which, since they obtain between Russell's particulars, are of his first type. In Broad's world, on the other hand, each relational universal is of necessity at least of the second type. MPN, p. 142. MPN, p. 154; italics added. MPN, p. 152. MPN, p. 247. MPN, p. 217. MPN, p. 217. MPN, p. 576. Earlier in this study (Chapter I, pp. 18-20) I argued that a Broadian proposition is, or consistently must be, a cluster of abstracta. Thus I assumed, in a different context (p. 23) that "This is green" expresses the proposition (Ti, Pj Gr). In the context of inspection, however, Broad insists that what is being judged is the sensum itself having a certain characteristic. For a systematic refutation of McTaggart and a defense of an alternative conception of time see, L. Nathan Oaklander, The Ontology of Time (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2004).

101 BIBLIOGRAPHY

Broad, C. D. The Mind and Its Place in Nature. 8th impr. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul,1968. Broad, C. D. Scientific Thought. 5th ed. New Jersey: Littlefield, Adams & Co., 1959. Broad, C. D. “Reality.” The Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics. Edited by James Hastings. vol. XI 1968, 557-65. Broad, C. D. “Time.” The Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics. Edited by James Hastings. Vol XII 1968, 334-45. McTaggart, John M.E. The Nature of Existence. Vol II Edited by C.D. Broad. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1927. McTaggart, John M.E. Philosophical Studies. Edited by S.V. Keeling. New York: Longmans, Green & Co., 1934. Oaklander, L. Nathan. The Ontology of Time. (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2004). Schoenman, Ralph ed. Bertrand Russell Philosopher of the Century. London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., 1967. Williams, Donald C. “The Elements of Being: I,” Review of Metaphysics, 7 (1953): 3-18.

INDEX Absolute space and time, 45-47, 49-50 Abstracta/ Abstractum, 1, 3, 6-9, 16-20, 22-25, 29, 65, 75, 79, 82-84, 87, 94, 101 Aristotelian substance, 90-92 Aristotelian tradition, 93, 99 Aristotle, 27 Becoming, 9, 13, 16, 18, 24, 29 Bare particulars, 21, 90, 93, 98 Bergmann, Gustav, v Binary relation, 25 Bodily feelings, 55, 75, 79, 84, 86, 87 Brentano, Franz, 27, 87 Categorial characteristics/status, 1, 24, 48, 53-54, 67 Cognitive core, 75, 81, 85, 87, 88 Container view (of space and time), 48 Causal property, 10, 11, 25 Change, 4, 7, 9, 10, 12, 13, 16, 18, 24, 25, 68, 69, 71 Concreta, 1, 89, 94, 97 Continuants, 9, 90, 91 Epistemological objects, 30-38, 40, 41, 55, 59, 60, 81, 82, 86, 95, 97 External reference, 38, 39 Events, 60-62, 64-71 Existent(s), 3, 3-8, 11, 13, 16-22, 24, 25, 29, 31, 34, 41, 49, 55, 60, 65, 68, 69, 79, 80, 82-84, 87, 89,-91, 95 Feeling situations, 30 Futurity, 12, 14, 16, 24, 25, 65, 68, 69 Heterogeneous events, 79, 80 Homogeneous events, 79, 80 Humean, 22 Identity, 10, 11 Imitative image, 62, 63, 66, 70, 71, 75 Individuation, 21 Inspective situations, 80, 81, 88 Intentional relation, 31 Intentionality, 4 Intuitive apprehension, 35, 38 Introspection, 75, 76, 78, 79 Introspective situations, 75, 76, 81 Language, 4

104 Logical subject, 6, 17 Mass, 39, 40, 41 Mass (of feelings), 95, 97, 98 Material substance, 11, 32 McTaggart, 12, 14, 24, 26, 65, 68, 69, 73, 99, 100, 101 Meaning, 4, 6, 8, 17, 20 Meinong, Alexus, 82 Memory, 8, 9, 12, 14, 15, 23, 59-67, 71-72, 100 Memory images, 61, 71 Memory judgment, 62, 65, 76, 80, 81 Memory situations, 62-64, 70, 80, 81, 86, 98 Mental event(s), 21, 75, 77-79, 81, 88 Mental positions, 21, 22 Mnemic consequences, 39 Mind, 3-7, 14, 15, 21 Moments, 48, 50 Multiple Appearing Theory (MAT), 42, 46, 95 Multiple Inherence Theory (MIT), 42, 44, 45, 46, 49-51, 95 Naïve realism, 42 Naïve theory (of memory), 70 Nature, 3, 4 Neo-Kantian, 1, 39, 54, 59, 61, 66, 67, 96 Newtonian theory (of space and time), 47-49 Non-existent entities, 4 Non-existent objects, 3, 17 Non-inferential belief, 38 Non-intentional entities, 41, 65 Non-perceptual memory, 8 Non-positional quality, 49 Oaklander, L. Nathan, 101 Objective constituent, 37, 38, 39, 42, 45, 50-53, 59, 60, 67, 75, 76, 85, 86, 95, 96, 98 Ontological object(s), 30, 31, 33, 39, 55, 95, 97 Particular(s), 34, 46-51, 56, 63, 65, 70, 79, 83 Past particular, 64, 65, 69 Pastness, 1, 12, 14-16, 24, 25, 29, 59, 65-69, 71, 72 Perception, 29, 30, 33, 40, 42, 59, 61-64, 66, 67, 94-98 Perceptual error, 35, 38 Perceptual memory, 9, 59, 62, 64, 65 Perceptual object(s), 31, 33, 35, 37, 40, 95 Perceptual situation(s), 29, 30, 31, 33-42, 46, 50, 51, 60, 62, 76, 80, 81, 86 Perfect particular(s), 19, 22-24, 49, 50, 65, 69, 90-94, 99 Physical inherence, 43

105 Physical object(s), 31, 32, 35, 39, 51, 52, 60-62, 66, 67, 91, 95, 96 Places, 48, 50 Plato, 27 Platonic participation, 2, 93, 94 Platonic universals, 20, 22 Presentness, 12, 14, 15, 16, 24, 25, 29, 59, 65, 68 Primary qualities, 33, 53, 95 Propositions, 3-0, 12, 13, 16-20, 23-25, 29, 34, 39, 59, 63-67, 89, 93-98, 100, 101, Punctiform particulars, 12, 19 Pure ego, 23, 75, 77, 91 Qualities, 47 Referent, 19 Relational mental acts, 78, 84 Relational universal, 101 Relations, 7, 10-12, 14, 16, 82-85, 87, 89, 93, 94 Remembering, 59-61, 64, 66, 70 Representationalism, 31, 33, 45, 95 Russell, 13, 27, 89, 101 Secondary qualities, 31, 32, 33 Self, 76-79 Sensa/sensum, 1, 33, 35, 37-42, 51-55, 60, 62, 66, 67, 70, 71, 94-97, 101 Sensum Theory, 1, 47, 51 Sensation, 34, 35 Sensible inherence, 43 Sensible qualities, 20 Spatio-temporal substances, 49 Spatio-temporal relations, 10, 11 Spatial properties, 54 Specious present, 31, 37, 72 Stout, 27 Subjective constituent, 38, 55 Substance(s), 10, 11, 22, 23, 48, 49, 90-93 Substantives, 12, 18 Subsistents, 27 Temporal relations, 14, 16 Theoretical objects, 31, 32 Time, 4, 6-13, 16, 18, 24, 25, 68-70, 89, 90, 92, 100 Timeless particular, 50 Tropes, 27 Universals, 1, 82-84, 86, 87, 89, 92-94, 100 Veridical/ non-veridical (situation), 33, 34, 37 Williams, D. C., 27

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3-937202-68-4, Hardcover, 410 pp., EUR 98,00

Social Facts & Collective Intentionality: the combination of these two terms refers to a new field of basic research. Working mainly in the mood and by means of Analytical Philosophy, at the very heart of this new approach are conceptual explications of all the various versions of Social Facts & Collective Intentionality and the ramifications thereof. This approach tackles the topics of traditional social philosophy using new conceptual methods, including techniques of formal logics, computer simulations and artificial intelligence. Yet research on Social Facts & Collective Intentionality also includes ontological, epistemological, normative and - last but not least - methodological questions. This volume represents the state of the art in this new field.

We are supposed to wage war against Terrorism – but exactly what we are fighting against in this war, there is nearly no consensus about. And, much worse, nearly nobody cares about this conceptual disaster – the main thing being, whether or not you are taking sides with the good guys. This volume is an analytical attempt to end this disaster. What is Terrorism? Are terrorist acts to be defined exclusively on the basis of the characteristics of the respective actions? Or should we restrict such actions to acts performed by non-state organisations? And, most important, is terrorism already by its very nature to be morally condemned?

Mark Siebel • Mark Textor (Hrsg.)

René van Woudenberg, Sabine Roeser, Ron Rood (Eds.)

Semantik und Ontologie

Beiträge zur philosophischen Forschung ISBN 3-937202-43-9, Hardcover, 445 pp., EUR 93,00

Der zweite Band der Reihe Philosophische Forschung spannt zwei Kerngebiete der Analytischen Philosophie zusammen: die Semantik und die Ontologie. Was sind die Grundbausteine unserer Ontologie? Wie beziehen wir uns sprachlich bzw. geistig auf sie? Diese und weitere Fragen werden von international renommierten Philosophen aus historischer und systematischer Perspektive diskutiert. Die Beiträge sind in Deutsch und English verfasst. Sie stammen von Christian Beyer, Johannes Brandl, Dagfinn Føllesdal, Dorothea Frede, Rolf George, Gerd Graßhoff, Peter Hacker, Andreas Kemmerling, Edgar Morscher, Kevin Mulligan, Rolf Puster, Richard Schantz, Benjamin Schnieder, Oliver Scholz, Severin Schröder, Peter Simons, Thomas Spitzley, Markus Stepanians, Ralf Stoecker und Daniel von Wachter.

ontos verlag Frankfurt • Paris • Ebikon • Lancaster • New Brunswick www.ontosverlag.com

Basic Belief and Basic Knowledge Papers in Epistemology ISBN 3-937202-70-6, Hardcover, 293 pp., EUR 89,00

Over the last two decades foundationalism has been severely criticized. In response to this various alternatives to it have been advanced, notably coherentism. At the same time new versions of foundationalism were crafted, that were claimed to be immune to the earlier criticisms. This volume contains 12 papers in which various aspects of this dialectic are covered. A number of papers continue the trend to defend foundationalism, and foundationalism’s commitment to basic beliefs and basic knowledge, against various attacks. Others aim to show that one important objection against coherentism, viz. that the notion of ‘coherence’ is too vague to be useful, can be countered.

ontos verlag