Papermacs are sold subject

to the condition that they

shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, re-sold,
hired out, or otherwise
circulated without the
publisher's prior consent, in
any form of binding or cover
other than that in which they
are published and without a
similar condition including
this condition being imposed
on the subsequent
purchaser.
MODERN STUDIES IN PHILOSOPHY

LOCKE AND BERKELEY

A Collection of Critical Essays
Modem Studies in PhilosoPhy is a series of anthologies
presenting contemporary interpretations and evaluations
of the works of major philosophers. The editors have se-
lected articles designed to show the systematic structure
of the thought of these philosophers, and to reveal the
relevance of their views to the problems of current inter-
est. These volumes are intended to be contributions to
contemporary debates as well as to the history of philoso-
phy; they not only trace the origins of many problems im-
portant to modem philosophy, but also introduce major
philosophers as interlocutors in current discussions.
The other volumes in the series are:
Volume I Aristotle, edited by J. M. E. Moravcsik
Volume II Hume, edited by V. C. Chappell
Volume III Wittgenstein, edited by George Pitcher
Volume IV Kant, edited by Robert Paul Wolff
Volume V Descartes, edited by "\\Tillis Doney
Modem Studies in Philosophy is prepared under the gen-
eral editorship of Amelie Rorty, Douglass College, Rut-
gers University.
C. B. MARTIN is Professor of Philosophy at the University
of Sydney, New South Wales, Australia. He has held visit-
ing appointments at Harvard and Columbia Universities
and Brooklyn College, and is the author of Religious
Belief·
D. M. ARMSTRONG is also Professor of Philosophy at
the University of Sydney and has taught on the campuses
of Yale and Stanford Universities. He is the author of
Berkeley's Theory of Vision, Perception and the Physical
World, Bodily Sensations, and A Materialist Theory of
the Mind.
MODERN STUDIES IN PHILOSOPHY

LOCKE AND BERKELEY

A Collection of Critical Essays

EDITED BY
c. B. MARTIN
AND D. M. ARMSTRONG

PALGRAVE MACMILLAN
ISBN 978-0-333-10073-8 ISBN 978-1-349-15284-1 (eBook)
DOI 10.1007/978-1-349-15284-1

Published by
MACMILLAN AND CO LTD
Little Essex Street London WC2
and also at Bombay Calcutta lind Madras
Macmillan South Africa (Publishers) Ply Ltd Johannesburg
The Macmillan Company of Australia Pty Ltd Melbourne
This does especial hann by nourishing the assump-
tion that the study of p'hilosophers like Locke and
Berkeley is only a margfnally useful activity which
may be adequately conducted with the mind in neu-
tral. In fact, it can be one of the most rewarding and
demanding of philosophical exercises_
JONATHAN BENNETT
 CONTENTS

Introduction, c. B. MARTIN and D. M. ARMSTRONG 1

John Locke on the Human Understanding,
GILBERT RYLE 14
Locke's Concept of Experience, JOHN W. YOLTON 40
Locke's Distinction between Primary and Second-
ary Qualities, REGINALD JACKSON 53
Did Berkeley Misunderstand Locke?
WINSTON H. F. BARNES 78
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities,
JONATHAN BENNETT 86
Locke's Version of the Doctrine of Representative
Perception, REGINALD JACKSON 125
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity,
ANTONY FLEW 155
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters,
CHARLES H. MONSON, JR. 179
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory,
c. B. MACPHERSON 199
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie,
ALAN RYAN 231
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance,
c. D. BROAD 255
Berkeley's Existence in the Mind, A. A. LUCE :184
The Mind and Its Ideas: Some Problems in the In-
terpretation of Berkeley, s. A. GRAVE 296
Berkeley's Sensationalism and the Esse est fJercifJi-
Principle, KONRAD MARC-WOGAU 314
The Argument from Illusion and Berkeley's Ideal-
ism, KONRAD MARC-WOGAU 340
Berkeley's Likeness Principle, PHILLIP D. CUMMINS 353
The Place of God in Berkeley's Philosophy,
J. D. MABBOTT 364
A
x Contents
Berkeley and God, JONATHAN BENNETT 380
Berkeley and the Tree in the Quad, E. J. FURLONG 400
Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas,"
MONROE C. BEARDSLEY 409
G. J. Warnock's Berkeley, J. F. THOMSON 426
A Note on Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Ein-
stein, KARL POPPER 436
Bibliography 450
Index 457
LOCKE AND BERKELEY
A Collection of Critical Essays
 INTRODUCTION

Articles on Locke and Berkeley have been combined in

this one volume partly because there did not seem to be
enough papers of high quality to make two separate vol-
umes and partly because in discussing either philosopher
it is profitable and almost inevitable to oppose him to the
other.

LOCKE
(c. B. MARTIN)

The serious study of Locke is not in fashion. Until re-

cently, unabridged versions of Locke's Essay had been out
of print for many years. Generations of students were
taught from Pringle-Pattison's abridged edition. This was
good enough to give them target-practice. However, too
many crucial arguments and distinctions were omitted,
and as a result the student was unable to know what Locke
said, let alone what he meant.
LOcke is inconsistent, obscure and repetitious. If it were
not for the abundance of first-rate and still suggestive ar-
gument in his work, we could safely forget him as the ob-
ject of serious study, and leave him to be the occasional
sport of the young.
The purpose of this section of the introduction is to
point out several commonly made mistakes and oversights
in the interpretation of Locke. Though each of those to
be mentioned can be found in recently published work,
the sources will not be identified. 'The selection has been
limited to instances that allow quick and decisive recti-
fication.
Some Common Sins of Omission and Commission in the
Interpretation of Locke.
2 C. B. Martin and D. M. Armstrong
1. Locke assumes without question that all words are
names of ideas.
False.
In Book III, Chapter VII, of the Essay, "Of Particles"
(omitted from the Pringle-Pattison abridged edition),
Locke deals with words that "are not truly by themselves
the names of ideas," such as "is," "is not," and "but."
2. Locke thinks that words cannot occur significantly un-
less the relevant ideas are in the mind at the time of the
utterance.
False.
Justice is a word in every man's mouth, but most
commonly with a very undetermined loose significa-
tion; which will always be so unless a man has in his
mind a distinct comprehension of the component
parts that complex idea consists of; and if it be de-
compounded, must be able to resolve it still on, til!
he at last comes to the simple ideas that make it up;
and unless this be done, a man makes an ill use of the
word, let it be iustice, for example, or any other. I do
not say a man need stand to recollect and make this
analysis at large every time the word iustice comes in
his way; but this at least is necessary, that he have
so examined the signification of that name, and set-
tled the idea of all its parts in his mind, that he can
do it when he pleases. [III, XI, 9; editors' italics]
(All quotations are taken from the two-volume
Everyman edition edited by John W. Yolton.)
Though the examining and judging of ideas by
themselves, their names being quite laid aside, be
the best and surest way to clear and distinct knowl-
edge; yet, through the prevailing custom of using
sounds for ideas, I think it is very seldom practiced.
Every one may observe how common it is for names
to be made use of, instead of the ideas themselves,
even when men think and reason within their own
breasts; especially if the ideas be very complex, and
made up of a great collection of simple ones.
[IV, VI, 1]
Introduction 3
These quotations are omitted from Pringle-Pattison.
Compare also IV, v, 4.
3. Locke thinks that our experience must at first take the
form of single unanalyzable elements which are the sim-
ple ideas and that our experience later comes to have a
complex structure, complex ideas, by OUT activity of add-
ing or combining the simple experiential atoms.
False.
Apart from the usual difficulty created by his self-
acknowledged tendency to use the tenn "idea" sometimes
to apply to what is "within the mind" and sometimes to
qualities of what is "external to the mind," Locke uses the
phrase "complex idea" in three ways.
a. To mean "abstract complex idea." This use is not
relevant to the present issue.
b. To mean something like "combinations or mixtures
of simple ideas or simple aspects of experience." It seems
that he is willing to allow that some ideas cannot exist
uncombined with other ideas. For example, "It is true,
solidity cannot exist without extension, neither can scarlet
colour exist without extension; but this hinders not, but
that they are distinct ideas. Many ideas require others as
necessary to their existence or conception, which yet are
very distinct ideas" (II, XIII, 11).
c. To mean something like "combinations or mixtures
of simple ideas or simple aspects of experience that are
considered as united together as one idea."
With these distinctions in mind, the following quota-
tions should constitute a corrective.
In this also, I suppose, brutes come far short of
men. For though they take in and retain together sev-
eral combinations of simple ideas, as possibly the
shape, smell, and voice of his master make up the
complex idea [sense (b) -Ed.] a dog has of him, or
rather are so many distinct marks whereby he knows
him: yet I do not think they do of themselves ever
compound them and make complex ideas [sense (c)
-Ed.] [II, XI, 7]
As simple ideas are observed to exist in several com-
binations united together, so the mind has a power to
4 c. B. Martin and D. M. Armstrong
consider several of them united together as one idea,
and that not only as they are united in external ob-
jects, but as itself has joined them. [II, XII, 1]
4- Locke thinks that ideas are mental "things."
False.
Perhaps this misunderstanding springs from Locke's
definition of "idea" as "whatsoever is the object of
the understanding when a man thinks" (I, I, 8). But
seventeenth-century usage allowed such an "object" to be
a mode or property or a relation.
Locke uses the term "substance" ambiguously. Some-
times it means "the substratum" and sometimes it means
"entity" or "thing." In terms of the former use, he lists
just three kinds of substance-infinite immaterial, finite
immaterial, and material. In Book II, Chapter XXIII, "Of
Our Complex Ideas of Substances," he is largely concerned
with the latter use, so that souls, teapots, rocks, and trees
would all be kinds of substances. There is no mention of
ideas as substances. When he does speak of the ideas of
sensation and pain and pleasure, he speaks of them as
"modes." In Section 17 of Remarks Upon Some of Mr.
Noms's Books, he says, "Ideas may be real beings, though
not substances; as motion is a real being though not a
substance." Locke would never have thought that ideas or
experiences could be the parts of Hume's "bundles."
5. A notable sin of omission is the very common failure
to point out that Locke had considered and rejected what
he thought were the only alternative theories of meaning
to his doctrine of abstract ideas.
a. Locke was aware that the meaning of a term was not
its extension.
( 1) He knew that a term could have a meaning and
lack an extension.
,For were there now no circle existing anywhere in the
world (as, perhaps, that figure exists not anywhere
exactly marked out), yet the idea annexed to that
name would not cease to be what it is, nor cease to
be as a pattern to determine which of the particular
figures we meet with have or have not a right to the
name circle, and so to show which of them, by having
Introduction 5
that essence, was of that sfJecies. And though there
neither were nor had been in nature such a beast as a
unicorn nor such a fish as a mermaid, yet, supposing
those names to stand for complex abstract ideas that
contained no inconsistency in them, the essence of a
mermaid is as intelligible as that of a man; and the
idea of a unicorn as certain, steady, and permanent
as that of a horse. [III, III, 19]
Who can doubt but the ideas of sacrilege or adultery
might be framed in the minds of men, and have
names given them, and so these species of mixed
modes be constituted, before either of them was ever
committed; and might be as well discoursed of and
reasoned about, and as certain truths discovered of
them, whilst yet they had no being but in the under-
standing, as well as now t.."'-lat they have but too fre-
quently a real existence? [III, v, 5]
(2) He knew that a term can differ in its extension
without differing in its meaning.
All things that exist, besides their Author, are all
liable to change, especially those things we are ac-
quainted with, and have ranked into bands under
distinct names or ensigns. Thus, that which was grass
to-day is to-morrow the flesh of a sheep, and, within
a few days after, becomes the part of a man: in all
which and the like changes, it is evident, their real
essence, i.e. that constitution whereon the properties
of these several things depended, is destroyed and
perishes with them. But essences being taken for
ideas established in the mind, with names annexed to
them, they are supposed to remain steadily the same,
whatever mutations the particular substances are li-
able to. For, whatever becomes of Alexander and
BucefJhalus, the ideas to which man and horse are
annexed are supposed, nevertheless, to remain in the
same; and so the essences of those species are pre-
served whole and undestroyed, whatever changes hap-
pen to any or all of the individuals of those species.
[III, III, 19]
6 c. B. Martin and D. M. Annstrong
(3) He knew that a teIDl can differ in its meaning with-
out differing in its extension.
• . . for, men, though they propose to themselves the
very same subject to consider, yet frame very differ-
ent ideas about it; and so the name they use for it
unavoidably comes to have, in several men, very dif-
ferent significations••.. For, though in the sub-
stance gold one satisfies himself with colour and
weight, yet another thinks solubility in aqua regia as
necessary to be joined with that colour in his idea of
gold as anyone does its fusibility: solubility in aqua
regia being a quality as constantly joined with its col-
our and weight, as fusibility or any others; others put
in its ductility or fixedness, etc., as they have been
taught by tradition or experience.
[III, IX, 13; omitted from Pringle-Pattison]
h. Locke was aware that the meaning of a term was not
its use with other terms. That is, significant utterance is
not the playing of a word-game.
. . . he that hath words of any language without dis-
tinct ideas in his mind, to which he applies them,
does, so far as he uses them in discourse, only make a
noise without any sense or signification; and how
learned soever he may seem by the use of hard words
or learned terms, is not much more advanced thereby
in knowledge than he would be in learning, who had
nothing in his study but the bare titles of books, with-
out possessing the contents of them. For all such
words, however put into discourse according to the
right construction of grammatical rules or the har-
mony of well-turned periods, do yet amount to noth-
ing but bare sounds, and nothing else.
[III, X, 26; omitted from Pringle-Pattison]
Locke therefore thought that since the nature of sig-
nificant utterance could not be explained in terms of the
relations between words or the relations between words
and their extension, it can only be explained in terms of
the relations between words and the mind of the utterer.
The mind may seem an old-fashioned place to look to
settle questions about significance. But the place is under-
Introduction 7
going renovation. Very soon we will be ready to allow
Locke's stress on the relevance of the utterer's thoughts,
purposes, and forms of experience to the significance of
his utterance.

There is a deplorable shortage of good articles on

Locke's Essay, and, as a result, important topics have had
to be passed over in this volume. Gilbert Ryle's article is
useful as an introduction to the Essay as a whole. Three of
the other articles form a natural grouping, dealing with
the currently much-discussed topic of the primary and
secondary qualities. Locke's important and influential
treatment of the topic is expounded in Reginald Jackson's
paper. He argues that Berkeley misunderstood Locke on
this matter, a view which is opposed by W. H. F. Barnes
in his note "Did Berkeley Misunderstand Locke?" Jona-
than Bennett carries on the philosophical discussion of the
problem of primary and secondary qualities in his "Sub-
stance, Reality and the Primary Qualities," and also criti-
cizes Berkeley for running together a number of different
Lockean doctrines in the course of attacking Locke's ac-
count of physical reality.
Charles H. Monson's article "Locke's Political Theory
and Its Interpreters" serves as an introduction to Locke's
political philosophy. Locke has been widely accused of
being the least disinterested of all political philosophers.
We have therefore included C. B. Macpherson's "The So-
cial Bearing of Locke's Political Theory," which presents
what may be called a Marxist interpretation of Locke's
political thought, while Alan Ryan in "Locke and the Dic-
tatorship of the Bourgeoisie" defends Locke against Mac-
pherson's interpretation.

BERKELEY
(D. M. ARMSTRONG)

TIle relative simplicity, clarity and brevity of Berkeley's

writings mean that commentator and student have an
easier task in arriving at Berkeley's meaning than they do
8 C. B. Martin and D. M. Armstrong
in the case of Locke. (To say that the task is easier is not
to imply that it is easy. Berkeleian scholarship is no ex-
ception to the rule that nothing is easy in philosophy.)
So here, instead of correcting misapprehensions about
Berkeley's views and arguments, it may be more valuable
to warn the student about a feature of Berkeley's philo-
sophical system that is not always noticed, or if noticed is
not always emphasized: its lack of unity.
Berkeley's views are almost always interesting (although,
in the present writer's view, almost always false); his argu-
ings are often both brilliant and of the first importance;
but his views do not form the closely connected system
that he himself seems to have thought they formed, or, at
any rate, been willing to allow his readers to think they
formed.
Here are four central Berkeleian theses: (i) the imme-
diate objects of sight are two-dimensional in nature, and
are, in consequence, distinct from the objects of touch;
(ii) Locke's Abstract Ideas do not exist; (iii) (Berkeley's
central doctrine) physical objects are nothing but collec-
tions of "ideas" (sensations) whose being consists in being
perceived; (iv) these "ideas" are directly given to us finite
spirits by the Infinite Spirit: God. Now Berkeley thinks
that it follows from (i) that the immediate objects of
sight are nothing but "ideas." In fact this does not follow.
Berkeley thinks, or at any rate seems prepared to let the
reader think, that from (ii) -the rejection of Abstract
Ideas-it follows that the being of physical objects con-
sists in being perceived. In fact this does not follow. Berke-
ley also thinks that the existence of a God follows pretty
directly from his doctrine of the nature of physical ob-
jects. But the extra premisses necessary to validate this
step are very implausible. Once we see-and it is not at all
hard to see-that (i) does not give even partial support
to (iii), that (ii) does not give any support to (iii), and
that the step from (iii) to (iv) depends on implausible
premisses, the back of Berkeley's system is broken.
Let us spell this out.
The ob;ects of sight. Berkeley's first published work,
the New Theory of Vision, concerns the objects of sight
Introduction 9
and touch. He argues, in the first place (not originally),
that since visible distance is a line turned endwise to the
eye, and so projecting only one point in the eye whatever
the distance be, it cannot be directly perceived by sight.
The discriminations that vision makes immediately pos-
sible are two-dimensional only. He goes on to conclude
that the immediate objects of sight must be distinct from
the objects immediately seen. We need not examine this
line of argument here. But Berkeley also argues, as a
curtain-raiser to his Principles of Human Knowledge, that
it follows that the immediate objects of sight cannot exist
independently of the mind that perceives them. But why
should we accept this step in the argument? Berkeley
gives us no reason that is remotely satisfactory. Instead
there is an incredible passage in Section 41 of the New
Theory where he says:
From what hath been premised, it is a manifest con-
sequence, that a man born blind, being made to see,
would at first have no idea of distance by sight: the
sun and stars, the remotest objects as well as the
nearer, would all seem to be in his eye, or rather in
his mind. The objects intromitted by sight would
seem to him (as in truth they are) no other than a
new set of thoughts or sensations, . . .
Here Berkeley manages to slide smoothly from the view
that distance is not immediately perceived by sight to the
fantasy that the objects of sight are within the eye (de-
spite the "rather" that follows this assertion it is an es-
sential step in giving the "argument" a superficial appear-
ance of validity to Berkeley and his readers), to the view
that the objects of sight are "in the mind," to the view
that they are "thoughts ['ideas'] or sensations." Nor does
it seem possible to do better on Berkeley's behalf.
Abstract Ideas. In Section 10 of the Introduction to the
Principles, Berkeley denies that it is possible to: ". . . ab-
stract from one another, or conceive separately, those
qualities which it is impossible should exist so separated."
For instance, if it is impossible that color should exist
without extension, as philosophers generally hold, then,
10 C. B. Martin and D. M. Armstrong
according to Berkeley, it is impossible to conceive of color
without conceiving it to be extended (although he allows
in the addition made to Section 16 in the second edition
that we can consider an object as having one property
without attending to its necessary concomitant).
We need not concern ourselves here with the rights or
wrongs of Berkeley's critique of Abstract Ideas. For ex-
ample, we need not consider the question whether Berk~
ley's argument depends upon equating conceiving with
imaging. All we need take notice of is another admis-
sion made by Berkeley earlier in Section 10:
• . • I own myself able to abstract in one sense, as
when I consider some particular parts or qualities
separated from others, with which, though they are
united in some object, yet it is possible they may
really exist without them.
He gives as examples imagining a man with two heads, or
the upper parts of a man joined to the body of a horse.
To sum the point up: Berkeley allows that there are virtu-
ous as well as vicious abstractions.
Now when, in the body of the Principles, Berkeley
comes to put forward his view that the being of physical
things lies in being perceived, he writes as if we have only
to reject vicious abstraction to see the truth of his doc-
trine. He says in Section 4:
It is indeed an opinion strangely prevailing among
men, that houses, mountains, rivers, and in a word
all sensible objects, have an existence, natural or
real, distinct from their being perceived by the un-
derstanding.
And in Section 5 he goes on to say:
If we thoroughly examined this tenet it will, perhaps,
be found at Dottom to depend on the doctrine of ab-
stract ideas. For can there be a nicer strain of abstrac-
tion than to distinguish the existence of sensible ob-
jects from their being perceived, so as to conceive
them existing unperceived?
But, of course, the whole question is whether this par-
ticular abstraction is, or is not, vicious. Can we, or can we
Introduction 11

not, conceive of unperceived physical things? No refer-

ence to abstraction casts any light on the matter. It is true
that in these sections Berkeley does offer a ground for say-
ing that the abstraction is vicious in this case. He does
this by arguing that physical things are things perceived
by sense, and that all we perceive by sense are our own
ideas or sensations. And it is true that if this argument ~
correct it does seem to be a vicious abstraction to try to
conceive physical things existing independently of per-
ception. But then the argument shifts from Abstract Ideas
to the question whether these extremely controversial con-
tentions of Berkeley's about physical objects are, or are
not, true.
Berkeley and God. So Berkeley's theory of vision and
his rejection of Abstract Ideas really does nothing to sup-
port his doctrine that the being of physical objects lies in
being perceived. His proofs of the existence of God, which
take this doctrine as premiss, are not simply non-
sequiturs as in the two cases just dealt with, but depend
on extra premisses that almost no philosopher since Berke-
ley has been willing to grant.
Consider first what Jonathan Bennett in the paper
"Berkeley and God" in this collection calls "the passivity
argument." Physical objects have been resolved by Berke-
ley into ideas or sensations. Ideas or sensations, Berkeley
argues further, have no power or a~tivity in them: they
cannot do or cause anything. In ordinary talk we speak of
the fire making (causing) the kettle to boil, but since such
a sequence is really only a sequence of sensations-kettle-
being-put-on-the-fire sensations followed by kettle-boiling
sensations-this way of speaking must be incorrect. Yet
our sensations must lutve a cause. This cause can only be
the will of a spirit, for only a will can nutke anything hap-
pen. We are not the cause of that great orderly train of
experiences that constitute our sensations. So there must
be some other very powerful spirit who is their cause. In
this way Berkeley argues from the world to God.
This is the sort of argument that does not inspire any
trust at all. Almost every step can be successfully chal-
lenged. It will only be noted here, what is seldom re-
12 c. B. Martin and D. M. Armstrong
marked upon, that the argument leaves Berkeley with a
most serious inconsistency. Berkel~y says that God sends
us sensations in regular, as opposed to irregular, trains, so
that we will be able to anticipate the course of experience.
So God uses ideas as an instrument to act on our minds.
And on any view of the world our sense-experiences are a
guide to what we will experience next. But, if this is so,
ideas, in causing us to have certain anticipations, have an
effect upon our minds-even if only as instruments of God.
So ideas are causes after all. Berkeley can make ad hoc
adjustments to the premisses of his argument to allow for
this, but only at the cost of making the premisses look
still more implausible.
Bennett calls the second argument, on which Berkeley
puts less weight, "the continuity argument." The being of
physical objects depends on being perceived. But there are
physical objects unperceived by any finite perceiver. These
objects require an Infinite perceiver for their existence.
The trouble with this argument (apart from the havoc
the conclusion creates in Berkeley's system when he has
to work out just what it means in Berkeleian terms) is
the complete unavailability to Berkeley of the second
premiss. How on earth can Berkeley, who has accepted the
first premiss, know that there are physical objects unper-
ceived by any finite mind? Common-sense thought about
the world takes it to be most probable-the opinion
"strangely prevails"-but Berkeley is not entitled to the
aid of common sense here.
Berkeley is rightly thought of as the founding father of
Phenomenalism, which gives an account of physical things
purely in terms of sensations or sense-data. It is no acci-
dent, as the Marxists say, that his philosophical descend-
ants have accepted his view of the physical world, but have
rejected the theological conclusions that he went on to
draw.

So Berkeley's theory of vision, his critique of Abstract

Ideas, his Phenomenalism and his theological views, al-
though presented as systematically interconnected, in fact
fall apart. This is not to denigrate Berkeley's philosophi-
Introduction 13
cal achievement. If we understand by "the history of phi-
losophy" those past philosophers who still speak to us to-
day, Berkeley's position in the history of philosophy is
secure. Such contributions as his criticism of Locke's doc-
trine of the unknowable substratum, his arguments against
the scparation of the primary and the secondary qualities
and his criticism of the Representative theory of percep-
tion remain of permanent value (regardless of whether
they are finally valid). But it is no service to Berkeley's
greatness to pretend that his achievement is something
different from what it really is.

It is easier to find articles of a good standard on Berke-

ley than it is on Locke. The papers by C. D. Broad, A. A.
Luce, S. A. Grave and the first paper by Konrad Marc-
Wogau take up the central theme of Berkeley's philoso-
phy: his contention that the being of physical objects
consists in being perceived. Grave's paper may be read as
a reply to Luce. Marc-Wogau's second paper "The Argu-
ment from Illusion and Berkeley's Idealism" and Phillip
D. Cummins' "Berkeley's Likeness Principle" consider two
important arguments that Berkeley uses in the course of
trying to establish his central view.
The role of Cod in Berkeley's system has been given a
good deal of attention in recent years. The articles by
J. D. Mabbot, Jonathan Bennett and E. J. Furlong take
up this topic. Furlong's paper is a reply to Bennett's.
Berkeley's philosophy of science has also attracted re-
cent interest. Sir Karl Popper's "A Note on Berkeley as
Precursor of Mach" is in fact a brilliant survey of this as-
pect of Berkeley's thought.
 JOHN LOCKE ON THE HUMAN
UNDERSTANDING
GILBERT RYLE

My purpose in this address is not to discuss or even to

mention a great number of the views which Locke puts
forward in the Essay, but solely to try to state what in my
view is the important contribution to philosophy which he
made and for which he deserves to be ranked among the
great philosophers. I shall, in consequence, squander no
time in appraising him as an historical influence or as the
founder or offspring of this or that philosophical school.
For I shall, I think, be doing him a greater honour if I can
point out how he threw new light where darkness was
before.
The minds of thinking men in the late seventeenth cen-
tury were woefully harassed by the numbers of disparate
bodies of propositions which demanded their acceptance.
Even within the field of theology-interest in the cruces of
which was then more widespread among educated men
than is even now interest in the cruces of the natural sci-
ences-traditional revelation, personal illumination, au-
thority, and faith were all severally acclaimed as sure
grounds for the truth of most important propositions
about God and human destiny. And besides theology, the
newly developed mathematical disciplines were hardly dis-
tinguished, even by the masters of them, from the physical
and metaphysical speculations which they thought de-
monstrable by simple extension of the methods of mathe-
matics, with the result that general propositions based on
From Tercentenary Addresses on John Locke, edited by J. L.
Stocks, Oxford University Press, 1933. Reprinted by permission
of the author and Oxford University Press.
John Locke on the Human Understanding 15
experimental evidence, no less than the hypothetical con-
structions of dogmatic ontologies, pretended to the same
sort of logical necessity as that which, whatever it is, holds
between the successive steps of a mathematical deduction.
Worse still, the atomic hypothesis of the physicists had
already been translated by Hobbes into a materialist meta-
physic with paradoxical and alarming corollaries in his
political, moral, and epistemological theories. Nor did his
first and chief philosophical opponents, the Cambridge
Platonists, make any lower claims to logical impregnability
for their idealistic than he had done for his materialist
conclusions.
Small wonder then that Locke discovered that before
'coming any nearer a resolution of those doubts which per-
plexed US'1 'it was necessary to examine our own abilities
and see what objects our understandings were or were not
fitted to deal with'. His object was 'to inquire into the
original, certainty and extent of human knowledge, to-
gether with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion and
assent',! and for this end it was necessary to give a general
classification of the main sorts of subject-matters about
which we think and formulate propositions, the main sorts
of propositions that we make about them, the main sorts
of evidence upon which our propositions can be based,
and the main sorts of conditions of mind in which we
accept these propositions. And if, as turns out to be the
case, there are found differences of kind in all these re-
spects between the propositions of mathematics, those of
the inductive sciences, those of history, those of theology,
those of common-sense experience, those of moral phi-
losophy, and those of dogmatic metaphysics, there will be
an end to a great part of the disputes which arise when
the credentials of one method of discovery are purloined to
bolster up the conclusions of another.
Two convictions underlie his method of inquiry. The
first is, to parody the title of Toland's heterodox book, his
supposition of 'TIle Human Understanding not Mysteri-
ous', by which I mean that he consistently refused to ac-
1 Epistle to the Reader. 2 Bk. I, chap. 1, § 2..
16 Gilbert Ryle
cept any account of the ways or workings of the human
mind which relied on the miraculous, the magical, or the
transcendent. This shows itself both in his sustained criti-
cism of the doctrine of Innate Ideas, which was in his own
day the chief weapon of the Cambridge Platonists against
the Hobbists, and also in his unsentimental exposure of
the claims made in theology for traditional revelation and
for the direct illumination appealed to by 'enthusiasts'. It
shows itself too in the treatment he accords to the Scholas-
tic doctrines of Substantial Forms, Essences, and the like.
The second underlying conviction is that the philosophi-
cal inquiry into such subjects as the human understanding
should not embody 'the physical consideration of the
mind', i.e. the attempt to discover by experiment or hy-
pothesis causal laws governing the occurrence of mental
states and happenings. The analysis of the concepts of
knowledge, probable judgement, belief, guesswork, faith,
sensation, perception, discernment, comparison, abstrac-
tion, and the rest, is not laboratory work-though what the
nature of the process is he does not directly elucidate.
The pity is, as we shall see, that the one doctrine which
above all others we tend to regard as Locke's central and
official teaching, namely 'the new way of ideas', is partly
and disastrously the product of just the sort of causal
hypothesis which he abjures.

THE NEW WAY OF IDEAS

That human knowing and thinking are to be described

as consisting in or, at any rate, containing 'ideas', is some-
thing which it never occurs to Locke to question. It was,
after all, common ground to the Cartesians and the Cam-
bridge Platonists, and it was natural, though most regret-
table, that Locke should have deemed it his task merely to
elaborate the theory and not to reconsider it. For, as I
shall try to show, while the term 'idea' is used by Locke in
a number of completely different senses, some of which
embody no philosophical nuisance save brachylogy, there
is one sense in which he uses the term, and one which is
John Locke on the Human Understanding 17
cardinal, for what are, in my view, the most damaging er-
rors in the theories of knowledge of Locke and his suc-
cessors, in which it must be categorically denied that there
are such things as 'ideas' at all. And had this been the only
sense in which Locke used the term, then his whole Essay
would have been, what it is not, a laboured anatomy of
utter nonentities.
Let us consider some of the main uses to which he puts
this Pandora's box of a word.
(a) In his account of sense-perception Locke gives the
usual treatment to the data of the five senses, and treats
the sensible 'qualities', such as softness, hardness, coldness,
warmth, white, red, sweet, stinking, and the rest as affec-
tions or states of the perceiving mind (on all fours with
pains) caused by some physical impulse from the minute
constituents of the external body upon the minute con-
stituents of the appropriate organs of the percipient's
body. He does not observe that the arguments which prove
that these sensible qualities are relative to the percipient
prove only that they are relative to the physical situation
and condition of the percipient's body, and so he lightly
assumes it for certain that they are dependent on the per-
cipient in the special sense of being modifications of his
mental condition. However, as pain, for example, or fear
presumably are mental states, and can without too mucl-
peril be described therefore as being 'in the mind' as diS
tinct from 'in physical objects', it makes sense (even if it is
false) to say that colours, tastes, noises, smells, and 'feelS
are in the same way 'in the mind', namely as being special
conditions in which a mind may be on an occasion of
perception.
Therefore, when Locke calls sense-data or sensible quali-
ties 'ideas', while his theory may be false, there is no spe-
cial objection to his using the term 'idea' as a special term
of art to denote states of mind of this sort, namely feelings
or sensations.
(b) Sometimes, though relatively rarely, Locke uses the
term 'ideas' to denote 'images' or pictures in the mind's
eye. This is, of course, the normal use of the word by
Berkeley and Hume. Of images it is at least plausible to
18 Gilbert Ryle
say that they are somehow mental, though it is hard to
describe the precise way in which they are in the mind.
They are, however, at least not directly the effects of ex-
ternal impact and so are not homogeneous with sense-data
as Locke describes these.
(c) Sometimes, by 'idea' he simply denotes an act of
thinking about something. For example, in his chapter 'Of
the Association of Ideas'S he refers to many cases, which
all of us could multiply indefinitely, where we are set
thinking of one topic by the thought of another, even
though neither has any real relevance to the other. This
sense remains in use in ordinary speech to-day . We say
'the idea of so-and-so has just occurred to me', meaning no
more than that something or other has just caused or oc-
casioned us to think of the thing in question. In this use
the term 'idea' denotes just acts of attention or considera-
tion, and these are certainly acts of mind, but they have
nothing special to do with sensations or with images, both
of which we have already seen to be referred to by the
term 'ideas'.
(d) Next, Locke explicitly uses the term 'ideas' as his
paraphrase for the more academic 'notions', 'species', 'con-
ceptions', and 'terms'; and he continually describes 'ideas'
as what words are the signs of, or what words stand for or
are the names of, or what e.g. are expressed by the words
'whiteness, hardness, sweetness, thinking, motion, man,
elephant, crazy, drunkenness'.
In this use he is clearly referring to what we technically
call 'concepts'. Now a 'concept' is nothing more or less
than an apprehended attribute, property, quality, or char-
acter, and conception is the apprehension of an attribute,
property, quality, or character.
This use divides into two. (1) In one sense 'having an
idea' is simply knowing or thinking something to be of a
certain character. When I know or think that something
is moving, or that something is an elephant, I can go on,
if I like, for the purposes of such inquiries as logic, to con-
sider in abstraction the character which I have been con-
s Bk. II, chap. XXXIII.
John Locke on the Human Understanding 19
sidering the object to have, namely being in motion, or
being an elephant.
Now usually when Locke uses the term 'ideas' (except
where his special representative theory of ideas is under
consideration, which it pretty seldom is), he is simply re-
ferring to the mental acts of considering something to be
of a certain character. And the acts of considering are
certainly 'in the mind', in th~ sense of being acts per-
formed by the mind. But the characters are not mental
acts or states. No one in his wits could think that being an
elephant is an occurrence in a person's mental life.
(2) And in the other sense not infrequently4 when
Locke speaks of 'ideas', he is referring not to the appre-
hending of a character but to the character or attribute it-
self. And this is clearly his meaning in the lengthy analyses
that he offers of space, time, number, infinity, power, sub-
stance, activity, identity, personality. He is inquiring what
it is to be in space, to be infinitely extensible, to be a sub-
stance, to be a person, &c., and not what it is to think of
things as being one or other of these. And, as we shall see
luter, his famous definition of knowledge as the perception
of the connexion and agreement or disagreement and re-
pugnancy of any of our ideas is translatable simply into the
assertion that knowing consists in seeing that a given char-
acter implies or excludes (i.e. implies the absence of) an-
other character. He is not saying that knowing consists in
a species of introspection.
So far we have no special objection to anyone of the
five given uses that Locke gives to the term 'idea'. They
are all quite different from one another, so to call them all
by one title is ruinously ambiguous; and each by itself is
complex enough to make the term 'idea' a dangerous con-
densation. But none of these five uses conceals any special
hypotheses or presuppositions.
(e) But there remains the last and most notorious use
of the term-and the one with which Locke's name is pe-
culiarly closely associated. The term 'ideas' is used to de-
note certain supposed entities which exist or occur 'in the
4 Bk. II, chap. VIII, § 8; Bk. II, chap. XXVIII, § 1; Bk. IV,
chap. I, § 6; Bk. IV, chap. VI, § 5, &c.
20 Gilbert Ryle
mind'. But they are 'in the mind' nt;lt, apparently as states
or operations of the mind, nor yet are they merely 'in the
mind' in the way in which the battle of the Marne is 'in
my mind' when I am thinking about it. For they are clearly
supposed to be dependent on minds for their existence.
Later exponents of the theory speak of them as 'contents',
as if the mind was a container in some (non-spatial) sense
analogous to physical objects which spatially contain other
physical objects. But this metaphor-which Locke does not
employ-sheds only a deeper darkness.
However, the theory supposes that in some sense minds
do support these 'ideas', and further that these ideas are
objects for them, i.e. that minds attend to ideas and think
about them. It also supposes that minds cannot imme-
diately attend to or think about any other things save
'ideas'. So whenever we til ink of or are awake to anything,
it is to these supposed mind-dependent entities to which
we are attending and never directly to any real existence
outside of (which I suppose means independent of) our
minds. An idea is 'whatsoever is the object of the under-
standing when a man thinks . . • or whatever it is which
the mind can be employed about in thinking • • .'11
There is supposed to be some relation between some of
our ideas and real existences, for ideas of sensation are said
to be produced in us by bodies; and 'ideas of primary
qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and their
patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves'.6 Ideas
of secondary qualities are unlike but are the effects of
powers in bodies.
Moreover, ideas are distinguished into 'real' and 'fan-
tastical', of which the former are 'such as have a founda-
tion in nature; such as have a conformity with the real
being and existence of things or with their archetypes'.
'Our complex ideas of substances, being made all of them
in reference to things existing without us and intended to
be representations of substances as they really are, are no
farther real than as they are such combinations of simple
ideas as are really united, and coexist in things without
I> Bk. I, chap. I, § 8. 6 Bk. II, chap. VIII, § 15.
John Locke on the Human Understanding 21

US.'7 Again he speaks of 'simple ideas which are EKTUlTO,

or "copies" " and 'the complex ideas of substances are
ectypes or "copies", too; but not perfect ones, not ade-
quate'.8 And in his chaptcr 'Of True and False Ideas'9 he
says: 'Thus the two ideas of a man and a centaur, supposed
to be the ideas of real substances, are the one true and the
other false; the one having a conformity to what has really
existed, the other not.' He states the first and most obvious
difficulty in the theory in his chapter 'Of the Reality of
Human Knowledge':
'It is evident the mind knows not things immedi-
ately but only by the intervention of the ideas it has
of them. Our knowledge therefore is real only so far
as there is a conformity between our ideas and the
reality of things. But what shall be here the criterion?
How shall the mind, when it perceives nothing but
its own ideas, know that they agree with things them-
selves? This, though it seems not to want difficulty,
yet I think there be two sorts of ideas that we may be
assured agree with things.'lO
This relation between ideas a Id real things he describes
elsewhere thus: l l 'For since the things the mind contem-
plates are none of them, besides itself, present to t~e un-
derstanding, it is necessary that something else, as a sign or
representation of the thing it considers, should be present
to it; and these are ideas.'
The theory is then this: that the world contains a num-
ber of real things or substances. Some of these are minds.
A mind cannot directly know other substances, but in lieu
of this it has dependent on itself certain objects called
'ideas'. These are not, apparently, states in which the mind
is (with the exception of sense-data which are) nor are
they 3cts of thinking performed by the mind, but some-
thing else, the status of which is not (and could not be)
specified. These, or some of them, are present proxies or
'ghosts' of absent substances or of absent qualities, mean-
7 Bk. II, chap. xxx, § 5. 8 Bk. II, chap. XXXI, § § 12, 13.
9 Bk. II, chap. XXXII, § 5. 10 Bk. IV, chap. IV, § 3.
11 Bk. IV, chap. XXI, § 4.
B
22 Gilbert Ryle
ing by 'present' 'capable of direct inspection' and by 'ab-
sent' 'incapable of direct inspection'. By means of these
vicarious objects we can and without them we cannot think
some thoughts and even get some knowledge about other
substances. Finally, sense-data, images, acts of attention,
the apprehensions of characters, and characters themselves
(all of which were severally called 'ideas' in completely
different senses of this word) are now classified as species
of 'ideas' in this special sense of mind-dependent objects,
functioning, sometimes, as locum tenentes for independ-
ent realities.
But it needs now no prolonged argument to show (1)
that there is no evidence for the existence of these sup-
posed mental proxies for independent realities, (2) that
the assumption of them throws no light on the problem
(if it is one) how we can think about or know things, but
only multiplies gratuitously the number of things to be
thought about or known; and (3) that it embodies a the-
ory, unplausible in itself, which, if true, would make
knowledge or even probable opinion about independent
realities quite impossible.
1. If they existed or occurred, there should be empiri-
cal evidence of their existence or occurrence. But in fact
introspection does not reveal them, and (I put it dog-
matically) there is no causal inference to them. The argu-
ment on which Locke seems chiefly to rely, namely that
the words which express our thoughts have meanings,
proves nothing. For the word 'square', e.g., means a shape
which physical objects do or do not have and not a mental
something.
2. The assumption of 'ideas' does not explain how we
think about or have knowledge of objects; for they are
themselves described as objects about which we think and
of which and the relations between which we have knowl-
edge. If there is no difficulty in seeing how we can think
about or have knowledge of ideas, then there is none in
seeing how we can do so with respect to other objects like
the moon or Julius Caesar. There is a prejudice that minds
can only attend to what is part of or attached to their own
being, but it seems to be due either to the futile super-
John Locke on the Human Understanding 23
stition that minds are a species of container or to the
popular mistake in logic of supposing that relations are
not genuine in the way in which qualities and states are
genuine characters of things.
3. Even if there did exist such things as 'ideas' were
supposed to be, it is almost impossible so to describe them
as to make sense of the assertion that some of them 're-
semble' or 'represent' realities, and quite impossible to
explain how we could ever know or even opine with proba-
bility that they do so, unless it is granted that we can have
the same direct knowledge of realities as of the ideas of
them. And if this is granted, there is no need to" assume
the existence of the mental 'ectypes', Not a few philoso-
phers have tried to evade representationism by denying the
existence of the supposed archetypes of the ideas, and thus
populating th"e world with nothing but minds and their
ideas. And others have tried to accord to ideas truth of a
non-representationist type by such dodges as internal co-
herence, systematic connectedness, and the like. But the
problem which they try thus to solve is a sham one, since
the alleged 'contents' for the objective validity of which
they proffer such devious defences have no existence and
so no properties or relations. They belong where 'phlogis-
ton' belongs and where 'substantial forms' belong, namely
to the folk-lore of philosophy,
The theory did, however, secure for Locke one impor-
tant positive advantage in enabling him to draw what we
shall see is a really crucial distinction between certain ge-
nerically different types of propositions and consequently
between certain generically different types of inquiry. For,
as I have said, it was a part of Locke's purpose in writing
the Essay to expose the nerves of the differences between
the pure mathematical sciences, the natural or experimen-
tal sciences, moral and political philosophy, and theology,
And for this purpose it was quite necessary not only to
distinguish the sorts of evidence upon which are based the
conclusions of these several types of inquiry, but much
more to discover and find some way of formulating the
differences between the sorts of subject-matters about
which these propositions are. And this his theory of ideas
24 Gilbert Ryle
partially enables him to do. For he is now in a position to
say that the subjects of the propositions in arithmetic and
geometry, for instance, are merely the species of ideas
which he calls simple modcs and are therefore not real
existences or substances. Numbers, ratios, square-roots,
pentagons, circumferences, and tangcnts are in fact being
negatively described as not things in nature when Locke
describes them in the seemingly positive term of 'ideas'.
It is not, of course, a finally adequate analysis of mathe-
matical propositions to say that they are only about 'ideas',
for not only are they plainly not psychological propositions,
but 'ideas' themselves are only psychological fictions. But
as a provisional step, it does mark an important step away
from the insidious indulgence of the Schoolmen of hypos-
tasizing the terms of propositions of all sorts and thus, by
multiplying entities without limit, of obscuring the dis-
tinction between propositions about matters of fact and
propositions of quite other sorts.
'All the discourses of the mathematicians about the
squaring of a circle, conic sections, or any other part
of mathematics, concern not the existence of any of
those figures; but their demonstrations, which depend
on their ideas, are the same whether there be any
square or circle, existing in the world, or no. In the
same manner, the truth and certainty of moral dis-
courses abstracts from the lives of men, and the exist-
ence of those virtues in the world whereof they
treat .• .'12
We could, it may be hoped, find some other and less
question-begging way of stating how it is that such propo-
sitions as those of mathematics and philosophy are about
something, and yet are not about things in nature, than by
saying that they are about ideas in our minds. But if we
take Locke's account sympathetically, as a purely negative
one, elucidating merely what such abstract propositions
are not about, we shall find that a great part of Locke's
treatment of the nature and relations of the several sorts
of human inquiry only requires a little purely verbal trans-
12 Bk. IV, chap. IV, § 8.
John Locke on the Human Understanding 25
lation to be seen as a successful, even revolutionary re-
charting of the fields of human knowledge and opinion.
Similarly the consideration of those propositions con-
taining terms which seem to denote fictitious objects, such
as propositions about centaurs, unicorns, and sea-serpents,
has tempted logicians to suppose that, as these nouns are
not meaningless, reality must in some unexplained fashion
contain centaurs, sea-serpents, and unicorns. And to this
extent it is a healthy if incomplete manipulation by Locke
of Occam's razor when he denies the real existence of such
supposed objects by his device of describing them as 'fan-
tastical ideas' or as 'ideas' simply. Positively, of course, it
is false that a sea-serpent is a mental state or operation;
for sea-serpents have (or rather would have) scales and
swim (or rather would swim) in the sea-attributes which
could not possibly characterize 'ideas'. But negatively
taken it is half-way to the true account of such proposi-
tions seemingly about fictitious objects, to say that they
are about ideas. For it is true that they are not about things
in nature. But this line of interpretation must be expanded
later.

THE ORIGIN OF IDEAS

The historians of philosophy, abetted, it must be con-

fessed, by those who set examination papers in philoso-
phy to students, love to allocate philosophers to 'schools of
thought', and Locke has suffered more than most from this
facile pigeon-holing. He is generally written off not merely
as an Empiricist but as the founder of the School of Eng-
lish Empiricism.
It is not quite clear what an Empiricist is, but it is quite
clear that most of the doctrines which an Empiricist (as
ordinarily defined) should hold are strenuously denied by
Locke. That the evidence of particular perceptions can
never be a foundation for true knowledge, that true knowl-
edge is both completely general and completely certain
and is of the type of pure mathematics, that inductive
generalizations from conected observations can never yield
26 Gilbert Ryle
better than probable generalizations giving us opinion but
not knowledge, are doctrines which Locke's whole Essay is
intended to establish. He even goes so far with the ra-
tionalist metaphysicians as to hold that the existence of
God is demonstrable, and he is at one with the Cambridge
Platonists in arguing that the principles of morality are
demonstrable by the same methods and with the same
certainty as any of the propositions of geometry.
But he shows the cloven hoof, it is alleged, in his asser-
tion that 'tlle materials of all our knowledge, are suggested
and furnished to the mind only by those two ways. . . viz.
sensation and reflection'13 (i.e. introspection); and 'Our
observation, employed either about external sensib.le ob-
jects, or about the internal operations of our minds, per-
ceived and reflected on by ourselves, is that which supplies
our understandings Witll all the materials of thinking'.14
He makes, of course, a sharp distinction between the ma-
terials of thinking and the constructions, combinations,
comparisons, and abstractions which we make out of those
materials. But it is ordinarily supposed that Locke's de-
limitation of the sources of the 'materials of thinking'
should have forced him to ilie conclusion that there can
be noiliing more in thinking or knowing than the bare
serial reception of these materials. But we must not vault
to the conclusions which Locke did draw or should have
drawn from this premiss until we have discovered what
tllis premiss really is. To clear possible interpretations out
of tlle way: by 'materials of thinking' and 'source of our
ideas' (1) he might have meant (but in fact did not) ilie
data, i.e. evidence, on which all the conclusions of our in-
ferences are founded. Such a view would imply. that all
inference is inductive and, eventmilly, that no conclusions
of inferences are certain. But it is clear that in fact he
means something much more innocuous than that. (2) Or
again he might have meant that images never occur unless
we have previously experienced directly in sensation or
introspection data of which they are reproductions; i.e.
that images can only echo sense-data. This was certainly
13 Bk. II, chap. II, § 2. 14 Bk. II, chap. I, § 2.
John Locke on the Human Understanding 27
Hume's way of taking Locke's principle that the materials
of our knowledge originate in sensation or reflection. But
I find no evidence that Locke meant this. All that he
seems to mean is this: (a) that we can never think of any-
thing as being of a given character, unless we have met
with an instance of this character, where the character is a
simple unanalysable one. Where it is a composite char-
acter, we must at least have met with instances of the
simple characters, of which the composite character is
compounded; and (b) that the only ways in which human
beings can be directly acquainted with instances of char-
acters are by sense-perception and introspection. The
former proposition is plausible if not true; and is anyhow
only an Aristotelian orthodoxy. The latter is also plausible
and (if the former proposition be accepted) can only be
rejected by anyone who can show that there is at least one
other species of perception. (It could be debated whether
introspection really is a species of perception, but I cannot
discuss this question here.) And if the former proposition
(a) is rejected, there seems no alternative but to accept
some sort of doctrine of innate ideas.
Of course Locke was handicapped by his physiological
theory of sense-perception from giving any plausible ac-
count of how in particular perceptions we can come to
know that relations of any sort hold between the objects
which we. perceive; for he had to hold that perceiving is
barely acquaintanceship with our internal affections, with
which such relational characters as 'in tenser than', 'be-
tween', 'after', &c., could plainly not be classified. Nor, for
the same reason, could he explain how particular percep-
tions introduce us to such principles of form as the
substance-attribute form, the term-relation form and, per-
haps, the principle of cause and effect. But these serious
defects have no tendency to prove either that Locke was
wrong in maintaining that we can only learn that there is
such a thing as being of a given character from first meet-
ing in perception with instances of it (where the charac-
ter is a simple one), or that his acceptance of this view
logically committed him to what I take to be the full em-
piricist position that all reasoning is induction.
28 Gilbert Ryle
Perhaps I should just allude here to another rather hol-
low objection which is popularly levelled against Locke's
account of the source of our ideas. He says that in sensa-
tion the mind is passive, though active in the operations
of combination, comparison, abstraction, &c., which it per-
forms upon the data of sensation. And it is held to be
highly wicked for a philosopher to say that the mind is
passive. I do not myself think that the disjunction activity-
passivity is 'of great importance-or even of much lumi-
nousness. However, Locke does seem to be confusing two
quite different senses in which the mind is said to be pas-
sive in sensation which are worth distinguishing.
That I cannot choose but see what I see or hear what I
hear or, for example, that it is not by an act of my will that
onions smell as they do is true and obvious. And some-
times 15 by the distinction between passive and active
Locke seems to be doing no more than referring to the dis-
tinction between those states of affairs which I bring about
voluntarily and those which come about involuntarily. So
'passive' just means 'willy-nilly'. But generally Locke pre-
supposes in his use of the term 'passive' his special causal
theory of perception, by which the smell that I smell or
the sound which I hear is a state of me caused by the im-
pact upon me of something outside my skin. 'Passive' then
means 'inflicted'. This causal theory may be false, but its
refutation cannot be grounded upon a supposed a priori
inappropriateness of the term 'passive' to states of mind.
Before we can accept the supposed alternative doctrine
that the mind is active in sense-perception, we should need
to know whether 'active' means 'creating' or 'making a
new combination of' or 'causing a change in', or whether
it merely means 'tending to engender fatigue'.
I need not say much about Locke's treatment of the
formation of derivative ideas, that is to say, of the opera-
tion of mind by which we come to apprehend compound
characters, and to consider attributes in abstraction from
the particular objects which we have found to exemplify
them. For in the main his treatment of these topics is an
111 Cf. Bk. II, chap. xxx, § 3.
John Locke on the Human Understanding 29
unsatisfactory mixture of an attempt to give a logical clas-
sification of the types of general terms which occur in the
propositions of the mathematical and natural sciences
with a half-hearted attempt to button these subjects up
into the strait jacket of his representationist theory of
ideas. However, in his classification of space as a 'mode'
as opposed to a substance, and especially in his not unim-
portant analyses of the concepts of extension, distance and
place or relative position, and in his defence, against the
Cartesians, of the distinction between space and body, he
does not merely introduce us into the very heart of the
controversy between the Cartesians and the Newtonians,
but is half-way to supplying a satisfactory account of the
differences between pure geometry and physics as well as
of the way in which geometry enters into physics. He
seems even to be inclined to the relational theory of space,
but the authority of Newton seems to have been a stronger
influence in the contrary direction. And in his treatment
of infinity in which he distinguishes the infinity of space,
time, and number from the notion of an infinite space, of
an infinite time, or of an infinite number, it may be that
there do lie the seeds of the final solution of the perplexi-
ties upon these matters which have so long occupied men's
minds.
We shall have to return to consider Locke's treatment
of what sort of truth it is which is contained in geometrical
and arithmetical propositions; but the rest of the topics
which Locke deals with in this book must be passed over
as not being indispensable for the understanding of
Locke's main objects and main achievements.

KNOWLEDGE

The propositions in which we formulate what we know

or think or guess are divided, in quite the traditional way,
into particular and general or universal. Particular proposi-
tions profess to state particular matters of fact and to be
about particular existences. General propositions fall first
into two main types, those which are certain, being either
B*
30 Gilbert Ryle
self-evident or demonstrable by self-evident steps from
self-evident premisses, and those which are not certain
but at best probable. The latter rest on the foundation of
particular observations of particular existences. The for-
mer are either trifling, i.e .. identical or analytic, or else
instructive or 'synthetic' (to use Kant's term).
Now 'scientifical knowledge' must, he takes it, be of
general truths; and to be 'certain' its truths must be either
self-evident or rigorously demonstrable. Hence it follows
that its propositions cannot be about particular existences
nor founded on the evidence of propositions which are so.
The propositions, therefore, of 'scientifical knowledge'16
can only be about the relations of 'abstract ideas' in the
way of agreement or disagreement. As he has in mind here
such propositions as that the internal angles of a triangle
are equal to two right angles, it is clear that the mysterious
sounding phrase 'the agreement and disagreement of our
ideas' refers simply to the propositions which assert that
the having one general character implies (or implies the
absence of) another character.
Locke was not enough of a logician to analyse very
closely these notions of agreement and disagreement, i.e.
implication and exclusion. But one point he makes quite
clear. By the universal and certain propositions of science
he does not mean either such propositions as 'what is
green is green' or such propositions as 'what is green is
coloured', or such propositions as 'a triangle is a plane fig-
ure bounded by three straight lines'. For a definition he
regards as a proposition about the employment of a word;
and what we call analytic propositions are for him only
fragments of definitions. And these are, for him, 'trifling'
propositions in the sense that nothing is learned, no new
knowledge is got, when we see one of them to be true. It
follows that the 'agreement' of which he speaks is not the
'is' of identity, nor yet is it the entailment of a generic
character by a specific one, but something different. He
thinks, namely, that there are some general propositions
which we can know to be true which assert that the having
16 Bk. IV, chap. Ill, § 26.
John Locke on the Human Understanding 31
one attribute implies the having of another, when these
are not only different attributes but further when neither
is entailed in the other as generic in specific.
And he thinks that the propositions of arithmetic and
geometry as well as those of moral philosophy are of this
sort; and indeed that 'scientifical knowledge' consists in
the knowing of such implications.
So when he gives his notorious statement 'knowledge
then seems to me nothing but the perception of the con-
nexion and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy,
of any of our ideas. In this alone it consists. \Vhere this
perception is, there is knowledge; and where it is not,
there, though we may fancy, guess, or believe, yet we al-
ways come short of knowledge,'17 he is attempting not
to give a definition of knowing as opposed say to guessing
and believing, but to describe what it is that we know
when we know something scientifically-namely, that it is
never anything else but what we would call an implication
(or exclusion) of one attribute by another. 'Ideas' here is
just a synonym for 'quality' or 'attribute', and connotes,
unless I am wrong, nothing at all of his 'proxy' theory of
ideas. He does, however, reintroduce this in a ruinous
fashion,18 where he says 'Every man's reasoning and
knowledge is only about the ideas existing in his own
mind, which are truly, every one of them, particular exist-
ences; and our knowledge and reasoning about other things
is only as they correspond with those our particular ideas.'
Locke is now in a position to show that the truth of the
abstract general propositions of pure mathematics as well
as of moral philosophy (which he is surely wrong in think-
ing homogeneous with mathematics) does not in the least
depend upon whether there exist any objects having the
properties the implications between which those proposi-
tions state. He is within an inch of saying that these propo-
sitions which express 'scientifical knowledge' are hypothet-
ical. They do not directly describe real existences. They
say what properties would follow, if something had cer-
tain other properties, and not that anything has them.
J7 Bk. IV, chap. I, § 2. 18 Bk. IV, chap. XVII, § 8.
32 Gilbert Ryle
Now this seemingly unexciting discovery is of the great-
est importance. For it proves that geometry does not (as
the Cartesians thought) directly describe the world; and
it proves that anyhow many philosophical statements have
no ontological bearing-they do not describe transcendent
entities, but merely say what would follow about any ordi-
nary object if it was of such and such a character.
This is where Locke is an anti-Rationalist-not that he
disputes our power to reach new certain and universal
truths by pure reasoning (on the contrary it is in this
process that, for him, science proper consists), but that he
maintains, in effect, that all these truths are general and
hypothetical and do not therefore give any description of
what exists. Even the existence of God, demonstrable
with mathematical certainty in Locke's opinion, must have
for one of its premisses the existence of the person making
the demonstration, and his existence is perceived and not
proved.
Knowledge of the highest type consists, then, for Locke
in knowledge of what have since been called synthetic
a priori truths, but these do not constitute either an ontol-
ogy or natural science. But he makes no attempt to show
wherein consist these rather mysterious relations of agree-
ment and disagreement (or implication and exclusion)
nor to prove that mathematical propositions are really
synthetic.

KNOWLEDGE OF EXISTENCE

Besides the knowledge formulable in general or hypo-

thetical propositions, in which field alone formal deduc-
tion or demonstration is possible, there is the field of
matters-of-fact within which some little knowledge of an
inferior sort and much probable opinion is possible. This
divides into knowledge (a)· of particular existences and of
particular co-existences of qualities in particular substances
on the one hand, and on the other (b) the judgement (it
does not amount to knowledge) based on the evidence of
John Locke on the Human Understanding 33
particular instances that certain properties always accom-
pany certain others.
(a) Locke offers no analysis of existential propositions,
and so never even considers whether knowing that I, for
example, exist is really a case of perceiving a relation be-
tween two qualities. He argues that this 1 can know in the
full sense of the verb, namely that I exist. It needs no
proof. 'We have an intuitive knowledge of our own exist-
ence and an internal infallible perception that we are: 19
Whether this involves knowing who or what 1 am (ig-
norance or doubt about which would leave small signifi-
cance to the existential proposition 'I exist'), Locke leaves
it to Hume to discuss.
Next, we can prove the existence of God from our own
existence, since 'what had a beginning must be produced
by something else'. And lastly, though we can neither have
intuitive nor demonstrative knowledge that anything else
exists, yet we can have 'an assurance that deserves the
name of knowledge'.20 For, while quite ignorant how our
data of sense are caused to arise in our minds, that they
are caused by agencies outside us is so highly probable
that we have the right to feel certain that an object exists
at the time we are experiencing a sensation. But of course
we can have no such assurance of the past or continued
existence of external objects, or indeed of any moment of
their existence except at the instant when the sensation is
occurring. It will be seen thus that all our knowledge or
assurance of the existence of other things, both God and
bodies, presuppose Our knowing that 'what had a begin-
ning must be produced by something else'. Perhaps it
was an interest in this special question of our knowledge
of other existences that caused Hume to fix his criticism
on the one (alleged) synthetic a priori proposition that
every event must have a cause.
What exists is particular or, better put, the subject
terms of existential propositions are not general or abstract
terms but singular and concrete ones. It follows, therefore,
that there can be no question of our knowing synthetic
a priori truths which are also existential.
19 Bk. IV, chap. IX, § 3. 20 Bk. IV, chap. VI, § 3.
34 Gilbert Ryle
No collocation of propositions of the fonn 'x-ncss im-
plies y-ness' or 'whatever is x is y' can lead to a conclusion
of the fonn 'Cicero exists' or 'Westminster Abbey has
such and such mass'. Pure reason cannot infonn us of a
single particular matter of fact. So all the knowledge or
assurance we can have about what exists or occurs in na-
ture must either be or be based on the evidence of par-
ticular observations. If this is Empiricism then Locke is
an Empiricist and, I would add, Empiricism is the truth.

THE NATURAL SCIENCES

But Boyle and Sydenham and 'such masters as the great

Haygenius and the incomparable Mr. Newton' do not
merely list particular observations. The discoveries of the
natural sciences are or are intended to be laws, i.e. general
propositions holding good not only of all observed but also
of all unobserved, all possible as well as all actual in-
stances of the type of phenomenon under examination.
How do these differ from the general propositions of ge-
ometry and arithmetic?
Locke takes up this question by considering first of all
how we come to classify things in nature into sorts. For
the general propositions of the natural scientist will all be
of the fonn that every object of such and such a sort has
such and such properties. A living creature is classified as
a lion or a body as a piece of gold because it is found to
possess a certain set of qualities and is similar to many
other objects which also have just the same or almost the
same set of qualities.
But, unlike our procedure with abstractions which we
can define to have such and such properties and no others,
in respect of natural kinds we cannot arbitrarily coin our
definitions of the properties essential to the kinds that na-
ture provides. Even if, as Locke seems to think, things in
nature are really members of real kinds, in such a way that
in their inward constitution their properties are necessarily
connected, yet we have no way of perceiving the necessity
of the coexistence of the qualitics which we observe to co-
John Locke on the Human Understanding 35
exist. When we come to distinguish lions from bears and
tigers, we do not yet know why tawny fur goes with such
and such a shape of head in the way in which we do know
why in a right-angled triangle the square on the hypote-
nuse is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two
sides.
We find several obiects having in common a large set of
qualities (though we can usually give no precise catalogue
of these common characteristics), and so come to treat
and name all the objects which have anyhow a large frac-
tion of this set of qualities as members of the same sort.
Moreover, we suppose that there is some principle, al-
though we do not know it, necessitating that whatever
has certain of these characteristics shall also have the rest.
'Our faculties carry us no farther towards the
knowledge and distinction of substances than a collec-
tion of those sensible ideas which we observe in them;
which, however made with the greatest diligence and
exactness we are capable of, yet is more remote from
the true internal constitution from which those quali-
ties flow than, as I said, a countryman's idea is from
the inward contrivance of that famous clock at Stras-
burg, whereof he only sees the outward figure and
motions.'21
So the definitions which we give of the natural kinds
which we establish do no more than list the properties
which we constantly find to be concomitant. Thus our
definitions are only of 'nominal essences', that is, of the
bunches of properties which we have chosen to unify un-
der one name. But how many such properties ought to be
treated as necessarily concomitant we cannot know. 'We
can never know what are the precise numbers of properties
depending on the real essence of gold; anyone of which
failing, the real essence of gold, and consequently gold,
would not be there, unless we knew the real essence of
gold itself, and by that determined the species.'22 Often
Locke speaks as if the difficulty is merely a consequence
of his causal theory of sense-perception or, what comes to
21 Bk. III, chap. VI, § 9. 22 Bk. III, chap. VI, § 19.
36 Gilbert Ryle
the same thing, of his theory that the secondary qualities
of things are in the mind and not in things, namely that
as all we can know of things is the sensations which they
cause to occur in us, therefore the real internal constitution
of things necessarily eludes our apprehension.
But in Book IV especially he puts his finger on the real
nerve of the difficulty, which is, of course, the nerve of the
whole problem of induction. The concomitance of what
we take to be the 'sortaI' properties of lions, say, or gold
is generically different both from the relation of specific
to generic quality (,entailment') and from the relations of-
agreement or disagreement (implication or exclusion)
which we can know to hold between certain of our abstract
ideas. So it is not merely that we do not yet see how to
demonstrate by rigorous deduction that whatever has the
other properties of gold must be soluble in aqua regia,
but we can already see that tllere is no such logical impli-
cation. It is not an analytic proposition; it is not a self-
evident synthetic one; and it is not one that can be
demonstrated in a chain of propositions each self-evidently
consequent from its predecessor.
'Thus though we see the yellow colour, and upon
trial find the weight, malleableness, fusibility, and
fixedness that are united in a piece of gold; yet be-
cause no one of these ideas has any evident depend-
ence or necessary connexion with the other, we can-
not certainly know that where any four of these are
the fifth will be there also, how highly probable so-
ever it may be; because the highest probability
amounts not to certainty; without which there can be
no true knowledge. For this coexistence can be no
farther known than it is perceived; and it cannot be
perceived but either in particular subjects by the ob-
servation of our senses, or in general by the necessary
connexion of the ideas themselves.'23
This gives Locke the generic difference which he re-
quires between the pure deductive or a Priori sciences and
the experimental sciences. The general propositions of the
physical and other inductive sciences rest on the evidence
23 Bk. IV, chap. UI, § 1....
John Locke on the Human Understanding 37
of regularly observed concomitances of properties; and
these concomitances are not self-evident or necessary. So
the conclusions of these sciences never can reach the cer-
tainty of mathematics, and in Locke's rigorous use of the
term science, they cannot constitute scientific knowledge.
They cannot rise higher than probability. 'We are not
capable of a philosophical knowledge of the bodies that
are about us, and make a part of us; concerning their
secondary qualities, powers and operations, we can have no
universal certainty.'24

THEOLOGY

It is likely that in Locke's mind and in the minds of his

contemporaries, no more important or urgent question
was discussed in the whole Essay than the question of the
nature and certainty of the propositions of theology.
Whether historical tradition can enable us to know that
such and such things were revealed to certain of our fore-
fathers, whether immediate revelation or inspiration yields
a certainty of the same sort as our certainty of mathemati-
cal axioms, whether religious truths are above reason or
according to reason or whether, although contrary to rea-
son, they still demand unquestioning assent, these were
questions of deep importance for Locke and for his age.
It seems not unlikely that it was from an inquiry into
problems such as these that the Essay took its beginning.
But, for us, Locke's treatment of these problems has by
itself removed them from their pride of place in the fore-
front of philosophical interest. For we have no doubt now
that historical testimony can yield nothing higher than
probabilities; that whatever may be the authority of im-
mediate inspiration, if and when it occurs, the claim that
it has really occurred and not merely seemed to occur can
never fully certify itself. Belief is belief and not knowl-
edge; and no matter how transcendent its object or how
elevated its effects may be, it can rise no higher than whole-
hearted assurance. And we are sometimes whole-heartedly
24 Bk. IV, chap. III, § 29.
38 Gilbert Ryle
assured of what is not true. So the doctrines of theology
rest on the fallible testimony of historians or the fallible
testimony of the human heart, and may achieve indeed a
degree of probability more than high enough for the con-
fident and wise conduct of life; but they cannot emulate
the demonstrability of mathematics nor even the broad
statistical foundations of experimental science. From which
follows the corollary, to which we are now well acclima-
tized, that it is in principle erroneous to seek to base or
corroborate the premisses of mathematics, philosophy, or
the natural sciences upon the conclusions of theology or
the tenets of religious faith. These have their place in life,
but they enjoy no precedence in rational inquiry.

vVhat, then, was Locke's achievement? If I am not mis-

taken, it was something much greater than is usually
allowed him. He was not merely the plain-spoken mouth-
piece of the age or the readable epitome of its develop-
ment; nor was it his task merely to anglicize and popular-
ize the philosophical and scientific concepts and theories
of his day. His title does not rest upon his rather frail
claim to be the founder of psychology, nor yet upon his
two-edged claim to be the founder of modem theories of
knowledge. And to my mind there is no unkinder or un-
fairer testimonial to his philosophical writings than to
say, what is often said, that in them the common-sense
views of ordinary man find their best expression. Nor yet,
in my view, is it a part of Locke's greatness as a philoso-
pher that he expounded and popularized the theory
(which he did not invent) of representative ideas. For I
hold that the theory is not only an error, but the wrong
sort of error, being in the main fruitful of nothing of posi-
tive value to the theory of knowledge.
Instead I claim for Loeke that he did achieve a part of
his ambition 'to be an under-labourer, in clearing ground
a little, and removing some of the rubbish that lies in the
way to knowledge' in that he taught the whole educated
world the lesson (which might with profit be conned over
in some quarters in our own day) that there are differ-
ences in kind, and roughly what these differences are, be-
John Locke on the Human Understanding 39
tween mathematics, philosophy, natural science, theology,
inspiration, history, and common-sense acquaintanceship
with the world around us. In a word, his achievement is
that he gave us not a theory of knowledge but a theory of
the sciences. So that for which we should render him
thanks is no exciting speculation or visionary promise of
another world, no disclosure of startling secrets of earth
or heaven or of human nature, but something else which,
though it does not glitter, still is gold, namely a perma-
nent emancipation from a besetting confusion. He taught
us to distinguish the types of our inquiries, and thus made
us begin to understand the questions that we ask.
 LOCKE'S CONCEPT OF EXPERIENCE
JOHN W. YOLTON

The empiricist programme has been designed to show

that all conscious experience "comes from" unconscious en-
counters with the environment, and that all intellectual
contents (concepts, ideas) derive from some conscious
experiential component. Some empiricists, but not all,
have also argued that experience reports about the world.
A strict empiricism might have to reject this latter claim;
even to consider the possibility of knowledge being re-
lated to an external world is to operate on a reflective
level, to seek to make sense of experience. The distinction
between an account of the nature of experience (its struc-
ture, relations and contents) and explanations of experi-
ence is an important one. The phrase "the concept of
experience" refers to the use made of some account of ex-
perience. The concept of experience need not be restricted
to the experiential contents. Thus, Locke sought to show
how experience is of the world, Hume tried to show how
experience restricts our valid conceptual contents to cer-
tain sorts of ideas, eliminating others. Any account of ex-
perience will already be a conceptualization of experience:
it must be made from the reflective level. But the account
need be no more than a careful record of how the organism
comes to the conscious level. Of course, such an account
cannot be a straightforward description, since we cannot
directly observe all of the processes operating in the pro-
duction of awareness. The psychology of awareness must
This essay is a portion of an article from the Tournal of the
History of Philosophy, Vol. I (1963) under the title "The Con·
cept of Experience in Locke and Hume." Some changes and ad-
ditions have been made for this reprinting. Reprinted by permis-
sion of the author and the Tournal of the History of Philosophy.
Locke's Concept of Experience 41
use the tools of extrapolation and conjecture. Nevertheless,
we can still distinguish the psychological or descriptive
account of experience from the metaphysical use made of
that account.
Locke claimed that all mental contents come from two
sources, sensory experience of the world and introspective
awareness of our mental processes. The programme of
Book II of his Essay was to exemplify, by reference to a
number of different ideas and concepts, this derivation of
our mental contents. The counter claim for Locke was in-
natism, the view held by many of his contemporaries and
refuted in the first book of his Essay. In order to appre-
ciate what Locke's alternative to innatism was, we must
try to discover what the programme of derivation of ideas
amounts to in his epistemology and what precisely he un-
derstood by the term "experience."
We must first note that he offers the programme of
derivation in conjunction with a complex theory of men-
tal operations. H. H. Price has remarked that it is "his-
torically false that the Empiricists thought the human
mind passive. It would be more just to criticize them for
making it more active than it can possibly be."1 Mental
processes playa most active and decisive role in the genesis
of all ideas in Locke's account. In the case of simple ideas
of sense even, the mind must be attentive to what the
senses report, else that report will go unrecorded, or be
recorded only at the neural level (II, I, §§ 6, 8, and II,
IX, § 3).2 Locke frequently draws the distinction between
mental contents or processes and physical processes. In
the "Epistle to the Reader," where he defines "determined
idea," he is careful to distinguish idea from the sound we
use as a sign of it (p. xxxix). In I, I, § 2 he draws a dis-
tinction between the "physical consideration of the mind"
and the non-physical consideration, although he does not
have a name for the latter. He also speaks there of "sensa-
tions by our organs" and "ideas in our understanding."
1 Thinking and Experience, p. 199, n. 1.
2 References to Locke's Essay are to the Everyman Edition,
edited by John w. Yolton (§ 332 and § 984), 1961 (revised in
1965) .
42 John W. Yolton
Locke disclaimed any intention of going into the physical
account of sensation. He simply accepted the current cor-
puscular theory. But although he is not always as precise
as we would be about the physical and physiological levels
of encounter, in distinction from the mental levels, he
does hold to this division. In II, I, § 3, for instance, he
speaks of the senses conveying "into the mind" several
"distinct perceptions of things." He explains that "convey"
means that the senses carry into the mind "what produces
there those perceptions." Presumably what he means is
that the stimulus gets to the mind via the sensory equip-
ment of the organism. He ends II, I, § 25 by speaking of
the sensory impressions having ideas annexed to them, but
he remarks that it is the ideas which are perceived, al-
though the mind is said to receive the impressions. The
function' of attention in this process is to notice the sen-
sory impressions.
TIle problem of how one attcnds to the physical reports
of the senses was not one that bothered Locke. It is diffi-
cult to determine just what role-and how important a
one-attention plays in our becoming aware of the sensory
reports. In II, I, § 23 Locke tends to underplay that role.
Sensation is defined as "an impression or motion made in
some part of the body" and this motion "produces some
perception in the understanding." Locke says that the
mind employs itself about these impressions, but if the
impressions are physiological, it could only employ itself
about the perceptions produced by these impressions. The
transition from nerve impulse to conscious content occurs,
but Locke does not have much to say about how it is ac-
complished. One point is clear: the awareness of ideas is
accomplished through the co-operative interaction of ob-
jects, neurophysiological processes, and awareness.
"Perception" was Locke's term for awareness. It is the
first faculty and the first act of the mind exercised about
its ideas. "Idea," of course, is a conscious mental content.
Despite his remark in II, x, § 2 that ideas are nothing "but
actual perceptions in the mind," his more careful state-
ments keep act and content distinct. Without the act
there can be no content, and, conversely, without a con-
Locke's Concept of Experience 43
tent there can be no act. Being conscious and having ideas
are simultaneous conditions. Nevertheless, the act of being
aware should not be identified with that of which we are
aware. Quite apart from the question whether that of
which we are aware is objects in the environment or only
ideas in our minds, Locke saw the importance, for a the-
ory of thinking, of stressing the first elementary act of
recognition. To be aware is to be aware of some content
of the mind; the simplest form of such awareness is what
Locke describes as perceiving "each idea to agree with it-
self and to be what it is, and all distinct ideas to disagree,
i.e. the one not to be the other" (IV, I, § 4). Locke even
makes the point, stressed recently by Price, that this level
of recognition is infallible. ,
There are many other operations of the mind besides
simple awareness, operations which play their role in the
generation of more complex ideas. But we must not un-
derstress the part played by simple awareness; appreciation
of this point will help to overcome that mistake of saying
the mind for Locke is wholly passive. Locke said that it
was wholly passive, but he could not have meant it in the
sense in which it has been taken, i.e. that the stimulus
is inscribed upon the mind without any help at all from
the mind. The mind is "fitted to receive the impressions
made on it" (II, I, § 24), but no impressions will occur un-
less we attend to the stimulus.8 The case is somewhat
different in our awareness of our mental processes, since
there is no sensory process involved. There are neural
processes accompanying our various acts of thinking, al-
though Locke did not know this; but what we are aware
of in acquiring the ideas of thinking, perceiving, believing,
3 The image of the "white paper voiq of all characters" (II, I;
§ :I) is also misleading if taken to mean the mind starts from
scratch. The white paper image was a counter to innatism which
would have the mind filled ,with ideas and truths at birth-. Locke
went out of his way in Book I to say he was not denying "natu·
ral tendencies imprinted on the minds of men," e.g. tendencies
to seek happiness and avoid misery (I, III, § 3). The various
mental faculties to which Locke appeals are the most important
supplement to the white paper; it is by their action that charac-
ters become inscribed.
44 John. W. Yolton
reasoning, et cetera, are mental, not physical, processes.
Some of the differences between awareness in reflection
and awareness in sensation may disappear, if I am correct
in suggesting that, strictly, Locke did not want to say we
are aware of the sensory stimulus, but only of what it pro-
duces. Then awareness would be directed to mental con-
tents and acts in both cases. 4 The difference would still
remain, that in the one case neurophysiological processes
play a causal role in the generation of mental contents,
while in the other, although we know now that there are
neural correlates for thought, it still seems incorrect to say
these neural correlates cause us to have the ideas of think-
ing, willing, et cetera.
External sensible objects and internal operations of the
mind are the things and processes upon which the atten-
tive faculty of the mind is directed and from which ideas
are derived in some way. Knowledge is both founded in
and derived from these sources, in the sense that the ma-
terial for knowledge, ideas, is generated by sensation and
reflection, those two fountainheads of experience. The na-
ture of this programme of derivation for complex ideas
reflects some awareness that the way some ideas arise from
experience differs rather markedly from the way other ideas
arise. We have already noticed this difference between
sensory and reflective ideas. The simple-complex termi-
nology is first introduced as a way of talking about "the
nature, manner, and extent of our knowledge" (II, II,
§ 1). Simple ideas arise in or-a most revealing phrase-
are "suggested to" but not made by the mind. To under-
stand Locke's programme for the derivation of ideas, and
to see what concept of experience he was working with,
we need to take some specific examples of derivation and
analyze them carefully.
4 From this fact about awareness it does not follow that we
cannot know things themselves. Ideas may "represent" things but
representative ideas are compatible with knowledge of things.
While the account of the knowledge of bodies is complex in
Locke's Essay, his insistence upon a careful observation of ob-
jects as the way to such knowledge makes it clear that Locke did
not view ideas as a screen between observers and objects.
Locke's Concept of Experience 45
The idea of solidity we have from touch and resistance
sensations. Locke calls attention to the fact that in all OUI
postures we are aware of a support to our body. Solidity
becomes the "idea most intimately connected with and
essential to body" (II, IV, § 1). The idea of pure space
arises in conjunction with body and solidity as follows: a
man conceives two bodies at a distance such that they
could move towards one another and touch edges. This
thought gives us the idea of space without solidity by a
kind of intellectual operation or experiment. If we then
think of one body moving without its place being imme-
diately filled, we have the idea of pure space. Sensation
and reRection have been used in the genesis of these two
ideas, and sensation and reRection are what Locke means
by experience. TIlliS, has he not given an experience-
derivation for these ideas?
It is most important to notice that this sort of deriva-
tion of an idea like pure space by reRection differs radi-
cally from the derivation of the reRective ideas. That is, I
reRect upon my own mental operations and in that way
obtain the ideas of thinking, willing, doubting, et cetera.
I employ the mental operation of reRection in order to ob-
tain these reRective ideas. But I also employ reRection,
and many other mental faculties, in obtaining many of the
ideas of sense. Pure space is an example, the ideas of exist-
ence and of unity are two more. Locke says that these two
latter ideas are suggested to the mind "by every object
without, and every idea within" (II, VII, § 7). The idea
of "one" is another example of an idea not derived di-
rectly and immediately from sense. Locke says "every idea
in our understandings, every thought of our minds, brings
this idea along with it" (II, XVI, § 1). This is a tandem
idea, joined with other ideas. No distinct neurophysiologi-
cal process stands behind the idea of one. The acquisition
of any idea by sensation brings another along with it. An-
other such tandem idea is that of finite: "The obvious
portions of extension that affect our senses carry with them
into the mind the idea of finite" (II, XVII, § 2). The idea
of substance as something over and above the sensible
qualities is the most notorious tandem idea in Locke's
46 John W. Yolton
account: he speaks of the mind being forced to think of a
subject as a unifying entity for the qualities.
Suggestion is surely not the straightforward derivation
from sensation which Locke seems to have in mind when
he first states his programme. If we take some external
object and say that it suggests to the understanding exist-
ence and unity, we do not mean there is some physiologi-
cal process whereby this idea is generated. What is in-
volved here is a kind of tandem process: along with some
of our sensory ideas we find there come, when we are
suitably advanced in thought, further'ideas. We "consider
things as there," which is the idea of existence, but this
"considering" is a rather sophisticated mental operation.
Locke makes frequent appeals to these mental operations
of "considering," "taking notice," "reflecting." The idea of
power is a paradigm case of the genesis of an idea with the
help of these particular mental operations.
The mind-being every day informed by the senses of
the alteration of those simple ideas it observes in
things without; and taking notice how one comes to
an end, and ceases to be, and another begins to exist
which was not before; reflecting also on what passes
within itself, and observing a constant change of its
ideas, sometimes by the impression of outward ob-
jects on the senses, and sometimes by the determina-
tion of its own choice; and concluding from what it
has so constantly observed to have been, that the like
changes will for the future be made in the same
things, by like agents, and by the ways-considers in
one thing the possibility of having any of its simple
ideas changed, and in another the possibility of mak-
ing that change; and so comes by that idea which we
call power. [II, XXI, § 1]
For these acts of considering, the mind is not tied down to
sensation or to a straightforward act of introspection: these
mental faculties work independently of those two foun-
tainheads of experience, generating a host of ideas far
removed from experience. The whole of geometry, for in-
stance, is generated by repeating or shortening the idea of
length or degree (II, XIII, § 6). Section 13 of this same
Locke's Concept of Experience 47
chapter speaks of "dividing mentally"; a process of dividing
and adding mentally gives us the idea of infinite duration
(II, XIV, § 31; II, XV, §§ 2, 3).
When Locke comes to the derivation of our ideas of
mixed modes, he clearly is dealing with that sort of deri-
vation in which the mind constructs ideas itself. That
Locke was aware of a sharp transition here is evidenced
by section 73 of chapter XXI, where he drew a strong con-
clusion about derivation: we have now given, he there says,
"a view of our original ideas from whence all the rest are
derived, and of which they are made up." Now he takes
us into a domain of ideas rather far removed from what
he calls "nature" or "real being." Moral ideas are tl1e best
example of mixed modes: they are framed by tl1e mind
without reference to what exists really, either outside or
within the mind. But the transition to such a derivation of
ideas has been made, I would suggest, in Locke's frequent
appeals to the "considering," "reflecting," "concluding"
operations of the mind even on the level of those ideas
supposed to be more closely related to the world. The way
in which relational ideas are formed does not differ greatly
from the way those ideas of unity, existence, infinity are
formed. "The understanding, in the consideration of any-
thing, is not confined to that precise object: it can carry
any idea as it were, beyond itself or, at least, look beyond
it to see how it stands in conformity to any other" (II,
XXV, § 1). Just what is involved in "carrying" ideas or in
"looking beyond" them is not made clear. But Locke ends
this chapter by reaffirming the thesis that all ideas of rela-
tions "terminate in and are about simple ideas of sense."
He proceeds to show how our ideas of cause and effect are
derived from sensation or sensory ideas. We observe in
sensation that some things bring other things into being,
e.g. heat is the cause of the fluidity of the wax. A cause
is "that which makes any other thing, either simple idea,
substance, or mode, begin to be" (II, XXVI, § 2). Thus,
Locke has shown how the relational idea of cause and
effect arises from and terminates in sense. "For to have the
idea of cause and effect, it suffices to consider any simple
48
48 John W. Yolton
idea or substance as beginning to exist . . ." (Ibid.). It
is this "considering" which assists the process. The idea
which arises is in effect an explanatory one: it makes sense
of the experiences we have had; it has no sensed correlate
in sensation.
What, then, does Locke's programme for the derivation
of ideas amount to and what is the concept of experience
he had in mind? Does the notion of derivation mean any-
thing more to him than that the mind must first be aware
of sensible ideas before it can have any other sorts of
ideas? He summarizes his programme in II, XII, § 8 as fol-
lows: "so that those even large and abstract ideas are de-
rived from sensation or reflection, being no other than
what the mind, by the ordinary use of its own faculties,
employed about ideas received from objects of sense or
from the operations it observes in itself about them, may
and does attain unto." Having as the antithesis to his
programme of derivation only the doctrine of innate in-
scription, Locke has shown how all ideas arise ctfter experi-
ence, that is, after the organism has encountered the en-
vironment and been stimulated into neurophysiological
and mental activity. Locke has addressed himself to the
question of the genesis of specific ideas and has supplied
us with accounts of that genesis. What he has failed to do
in any systematic way is to distinguish the different sorts
of processes which help to generate different ideas. There
is not one sort of process nor one sort of idea. We might
draw up a list of these differences.
1. Sensory ideas arise as a direct result of sensory stimu-
lation and mental recognition. There is a neurophysiologi-
cal process involved here, but the idea is a conscious men-
tal content. Just how recognition takes place is a point not
discussed by Locke.
2. Reductive ideas arise through the mind's adding to-
gether certain sensory ideas to obtain what we might call
a class concept. These ideas can be reduced to sensory
ideas. For example, an army is just a collection of individ-
uals, and our idea of an army is a collective idea of a class
of individuals.
Locke's Concept of Experience 49
3. Introspective ideas arise through the awareness of
our own mental processes. No neurophysiological process
seems involved here in the causal genesis although such
processes are present. The ideas arise not through the in-
termediary of such processes but solely through our ability
to be aware of our own mental, emotional, and internal
bodily states.
4. Non-sensory ideas arise through the activity of the
mind directing its attention to some feature of our sensory
or introspective experience. It considers, reflects upon, con-
cludes, et cetera, that such and such is the case, and a new
idea is formed. These ideas are rather like explanations.
Thus in no case has Locke claimed that ideas arise in
the organism in the absence of mental operations, al-
though the first sort of ideas require relatively few and
simple mental operations. The formation of types 1, 2,
and 3 conform to his announced programme. Once we
grant the term experience to cover both sensation and in-
trospection, these first three sorts of ideas can be said to
be derived from experience. But these by no means ex-
haust the sorts of ideas we have. By far the greater number
of ideas discussed by Locke himself belong to type 4. The
central ambiguity in his programme is the nature of re-
flection and its role in the derivation of ideas. We have
seen that it is given a twofold role: it gives us introspective
contents, but it also comprises a host of mental operations
other than introspection. 5 When we allow the experience
programme to cover both types of reflection, what is of-
fered by Locke is a programme for which the only falsifica-
tion would be proof of the innate claim. The concept of
experience in this extended sense-any state or condition
after awareness has arisen-would be of use to an empiri-
cist only when the counter claim is that of innatism. Con-
5 To appreciate the number and extent of mental operations in
Locke's derivation programme, one need only begin to make a
list of the mental terms used and referred to by Locke in Book II.
A student of mine, Mr. P. J. White, has undertaken to compile
such a list. He has discovered an intricate theory of thinking at
work in that derivation programme with references to hundreds
of mental processes and operations. Vide his unpublished M.A.
thesis at the University of Toronto.
50 John W. Yolton
sciousness for Locke arises out of unconscious encounters
with the environment, but not all mental contents are
traceable to some experiential component.
Type 4 mental contents are clearly explanatory con-
cepts, ideas which help each individual to make sense of
his sensory experience. The ideas of unity, existence, sub-
stance, infinity, power, and cause are explanatory concepts
constructed by the mind when confronted with specific
sorts of experiences. They might also be termed the cat€-
gories which structure awareness. But "derived from"
and "constructed for the sake of" refer to different proc-
esses. The one gives us an account of the origin of aware-
ness and of certain mental contents; the other presents us
with an account of those explanatory concepts employed
in understanding the experiential contents. In the absence
of any experiential contents there can be no explanatory
ones. Both types of mental contents make up "experience,"
in the sense of the world organized and structured by the
conscious organism. Type 4 ideas in Locke's account are
not full-blown metaphysical accounts of experience nor
metaphysically deduced categories. Such accounts arise as
an attempt by the philosopher to explain or unify the
other sorts of ideas. But the mental contents derived from
the mind's considering certain features of the world and
experience are nonetheless metaphysical. In strictness,
then, no idea comes from experience on Locke's pro-
gramme since it is ideas· of all sorts which make up or
constitute experience. Ideas come from the activity of
organism and environment, some processes stimulating the
neurophysiological functions which are related to mental
operations, others working entirely within the scope of
thought and reflection. If Locke restricts experience to sen-
sation and introspection, then he has not shown how all
ideas are derived from experience. But if we allow the ex-
tension of this concept of experience to cover any act of
the mind, then clearly any mental content will be
experiential.
Explanatory concepts enable Locke to suggest how ex-
perience comes to be structured in terms of cause, unity,
identity, substance, power, existence, etc. Locke does not
Locke's Concept of Experience 51
try to argue that experience must be structured in these
terms; there is no transcendental deduction of universal
and necessary categories. Nor does Locke wish to say these
categorial ideas are logically or cognitively primitive.6 We
can characterize the difference between Locke and Kant
by remarking that Locke dealt with the categorial ideas in
the same genetic fashion as he did with more straightfor-
ward sensory ideas. But his account of their genesis is more
complex than that of sensory ideas; it involves different
and more sophisticated mental operations, and categorial
ideas lack particular sensory correlations in experience.
The account of the origin of sensory ideas ties in closely
with another aspect of the concept of experience I have
not discussed in this paper, experience as the source of our
knowledge of things. Opposing the method of relying upon
maxims and a priori principles for a knowledge of nature,
Locke insisted that "Experience here must teach me what
reason cannot" (IV, XII, § 9). What Locke called "argu-
ments from the nature of things themselves" (IV, xVI,
§ 6) leads to the science of nature. Those arguments in-
volve the general cOIl,sent of all men in all ages concurring
"with a man's constant and never-failing experience, in like
cases." Propositions like "fire warms a man," "fire makes
lead fluid and changes the colour of consistency in wood
or charcoal," "iron sinks in water but swims in quicksilver"
are propositions about particular facts which agree to our
constant experience and hence may be taken as near cer-
tainties (Ibid.).
In the knowledge of bodies, we must be content to
glean what we can from particular experiments, since
we cannot from a discovery of their real essences
grasp at a time whole sheaves, and in bundles com-
prehend the nature and properties of whole species
together. Where our inquiry is concerning co-
existence or repugnancy to co-exist, which by con tem-
6 Locke does give a list of eight "original ideas from whence
all the rest are derived," in II, XXI, § 73. Moreover, existence and
power are on that list. The precise role this list was meant to play
by Locke is not, however, very clear. The passage is interesting
and worth further study.
52 John W. Yolton
plation of our ideas we cannot discover, there experi-
ence, observation, and natural history must give us by
our senses and by detail an insight into corporeal sub-
stances." [IV, XII, § 12]
In his admiration for Boyle, Newton, and Sydenham,
Locke was praising these men for this method of carefully
observing and recording the observed co-existence of
qualities.
To see how experience as the source for our scientific
knowledge of nature is related to experience as the set of
ideas we acquire in interaction with the world requires us
to work out the details of Locke's science of nature and
his doctrine of signs. The derivation programme outlined
in this paper is a prerequisite for these larger tasks.
 LOCKE'S DISTINCTION BETWEEN
PRIMARY AND SECONDARY QUALITIES
REGINALD JACKSON

Among the merits of Locke's Essay on the Human Un-

derstanding not even the friendliest critic would number
consistency. Locke, indeed, himself acknowledges his in-
consistency with disarming candour when, after distin-
guishing "qualities," as belonging to bodies, from "ideas,"
as mind-dependent objects of perception produced by
qualities, he immediately proclaims that, if he sometimes
speaks of these ideas as in the "things" (bodies) them-
selves, he would be understood to mean those qualities in
"objects" (bodies) which produce them in us. 1 In the
spirit of this announcement Locke makes one term serve
such a variety of needs, that an attempt to show what he
"really means" by a term is exposed to the objection that
he means different things in different passages and that all
the different meanings are equally "real". Yet, if the Essay
is to be interpreted at all, it is necessary to search, among
the conflicting usages of any term, for one which may be
most conveniently selected as the normal usage, and by
reference to which other usages may be classified as depar·
tures. Something of the sort is in any case bound to hap-
pen. The only question which is left to the critic to decide
is whether his selection is to be made in accordance with a
principle. Now, in spite of the passage cited above, in
which Locke deliberately notifies his intention of some-
times using a term to mean what he has just defined it as
not meaning, there seems something to be said for select-
From Mind, Vol. XXXVIII (1929). Reprinted by permission
of Mind.
1 Essay, II, VIII, § 8.
e
54 Reginald Jackson
ing where possible, as the normal meaning of a term,
what Locke says he means by it. Where this is not pos-
sible-as when a definition is self-contradictory or in any
way defeats its own purpose-the critic should still take
account of the definition and state his reasons for modify-
ing or rejecting it.
The aim of this article is to determine the nature of
Locke's distinction between Primary and Secondary
Qualities. This distinction has been represented, both by
Locke's immediate successors and by a number of modem
critics, in a way which is not only opposed to Locke's defi-
nitions of these terms, but which is also most awkwardly
related to his distinction between "Qualities" and "Ideas".
The onus probandi in a case of this kind rests on those
who challenge the definitions. They should show that
Locke habitually uses the terms in such a way as to pre-
clude the meanings to which he pledges himself, or that
the distinction in the terms in which he draws it is not
only untenable (which is pretty certainly true both of
Locke's distinction and of the distinction usually accred-
ited to him) but also inconsistent with the purpose for
which it is designed. In fact, however, so far from having
been vindicated in the face of Locke's definitions, the sup-
posed meanings seem to have been adopted without even
a recognition of the discrepancy, and some writers Ilse the
terms now with the supposed meanings and now with
those given -in Locke's definitions without betraying any
suspicion that they are not the same. The current distinc-
tion between Primary and Secondary Qualities is perhaps
too well established to be shaken by objections based on
the origin of the terms. But it is desirable in the interests
of scholarship that the current distinction should be recog-
nised to be different from Locke's distinction if it is
different.
The distinction which Locke was supposed by Berkeley
and Reid to have drawn, is between qualities of bodies
(these qualities being supposed to be perceptible) and
ideas, sensations, or, in current terminology, sensibilia
(supposed not to exist independently of the perception of
them and to be the effects of the action of bodies on
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 55
minds). Modem writers who have followed Berkeley and
Reid have in consequence supposed that Locke inherited
the distinction between Primary and Secondary Qualities
immediately from the Cartesians and ultimately from
Democritus; and that, together with Boyle, he uses the
terms Primary and Secondary Qualities to designate
roughly the same things as he elsewhere calls Qualities and
Ideas. According to the view of these modem writers, the
distinction between Primary and Secondary Qualities is
only a way of stating the Representative Theory of Per-
ception. Secondary Qualities also have been identified,
though much less commonly, with what Locke calls "the
primary qualities of the insensible parts" of bodies. The
source of both confusions is to be found in Locke himself
and even in Boyle, who was really the author not only of
the terms but also of the distinction itself.
In what follows it will be contended that Locke means
by "primary qualities of bodies" simply qualities of bodies,
that he calls them "primary" to distinguish them, not from
other qualities as a kind of qualities, but from what are on
liis view only wrongly thought to be qualities, and that
just because primary qualities are qualities they are, in ac-
cordance with the Representative Theory of Perception,
necessarily imperceptible; and that by "secondary quali-
ties" he means, neither qualities nor ideas, but a third set
of entities, which he calls "powers of bodies to produce
ideas by means of (primary) qualities". First Boyle's use
of the distinction will be examined, when it will be found
that the elusive "power" is liable to be identified, even by
Boyle, now with the quality on which it depends and now
with the idea or sensation which the body produces by
means of the quality. Next, the purpose which the dis-
tinction serves in Locke's view of our knowledge of the
external world, will be discussed, and it will be contended
that, so far from having been inherited from the Carte-
sians, the distinction is required by just that doctrine
which both Locke and Boyle held in opposition to the
Cartesians. Locke's definitions will then be considered in
detail, and will be found to be embarrassed by two main
difficulties: (A) by the connection between the distinction
56 Reginald Jackson
between primary and secondary qualities and a number of
other distinctions such as those between (a) qualities and
ideas, (b) macroscopic and microscopic qualities, (c) de-
terminate and indeterminate qualities; (B) by Locke's
omission to distinguish between the meanings of the terms
"individual" and "particular," and in consequence between
two views of our knowledge of the external world. An at-
tempt will then be made to deal with Locke's statements
about the resemblance of "ideas of primary qualities" to
primary qualities and the non-resemblance of "ideas of
secondary qualities" to secondary qualities. In conclusion,
the view against which this article protests will be traced
in Berkeley and Reid and in a number of modern writers.
Boyle's tract called "The Origin of Forms and Qualities
according to the Corpuscular Philosophy"2 aims at vindi-
cating against both Scholastics and Cartesians what is
called the Mechanical Philosophy, and especially the view
that the only characteristics which it is necessary to recog-
nise as inhering in bodies are impenetrability, which is
common to all bodies, and various determinations of the
spatial qualities, shape, size, and "motion-and-rest". The
objection against the Scholastics is that they attribute all
"natural effects," which Boyle thinks otherwise and more.
parsimoniously explicable, to "real qualities" supposed
"distinct from the modification of matter they belong to
and in some cases separate from all matter whatsoever".3
The objection against the Cartesians is that their refusal to
recognise impenetrability as a quality, common to all bod-
ies and distinguishing them from the space they occupy,
makes it impossible to talk in any straightforward sense of
bodies at alI. 4 It is in their determinate shape, size, and
motion-and-rest, Boyle holds, that bodies differ from one
another, and it is by means of these qualities that bodies
act on our senses and on other bodies. 5 The power of a
body to act on the senses in a given way by means of its
qualities is called a "secondary" or "sensible quality,"6
and it is distinguished both from the qualities on which it
depends and from the effect on the percipient. Boyle's
2Works (ed. 1772), IV.
aP.ll. 4P.35. uP. 36. app.23-24.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 57
own illustration, in his "Excursion about the relative na-
ture of Physical Qualities",7 both makes this clear and
shows why a secondary quality is easily mistaken for either
a quality or a sensation. Of a key which fits a lock, we say
it has the power to turn the lock, and of the lock we say it
has the power to be turned. Yet "by these new attributes
there was not added any real or physical entity either to
the lock or to the key."8 The power to turn the lock does
not belong to the key in itself: a change in the lock might
deprive the key of its power without any change in the
key. On the other hand, the power to turn the lock is dif-
ferent from both the act of turning the lock and the con-
dition of the lock when turned, and is in no sense a quality
of the lock. Emphasis of either of these negative truths
easily leads to neglect of the other. The same danger at-
tends the term "secondary quality". "Though by virtue of a
certain congruity . . . to our sensories, the portions of
matter they [sensible qualities] modify are enabled to pro-
duce various effects. . . yet they are not in the bodies that
are endowed with them any real or distinct entities or dif-
fering from the matter itself furnished with such a deter-
minate bigness, shape, or other such modifications."o Even
in this passage, where Boyle is concerned only with the
use of the term "secondary quality," the last clause comes
very near to identifying the secondary quality with the
qualities by means of which the body has it. It is, there-
fore, not surprising that he makes such statements, as that
the heat of the sun is "but the brisk and confused local
motion of the minute parts of a body,"lO while strictly, on
his view, it is the power of the sun to produce certain
effects on other bodies and on percipients by means of
this local motion. On the other hand, in summing up,
Boyle runs into the other confusion, and identifies the sen-
sible qualities with "the perceptions of these impressions"
and "the effects or consequents of the . . . primary affec-
tions of matter."ll The latter confusion is made the more
likely by the use of the term "sensible quality", an inher-
itance from a point of view to which the doctrine of Rep-
7 P. 18 et seq. sP. 18. 9 P. 18. lOP. 21.
11 P. 63'
58 Reginald Jackson
resentative Perception is opposed. Its use by both Boyle
and Locke to indicate what according to them is neither
sensible nor a quality is singularly unhappy and seems to
be among the difficulties which misled Berkeley in his
criticism of Locke.
Postponing the examination of some serious difficulties
in Locke's definitions of Primary and Secondary Qualities,
we shall try to show the part which a distinction between
qualities and powers would play in his theory of the na-
ture of the external world. The need for such a distinction
is occasioned by that feature of Locke's view in which he
fundamentally disagrees with Descartes. While agreeing
with Descartes in recognising two kinds of substance, the
Conscious arid the Extended, and further in recognising a
plurality of conscious substances, he disagrees in recognis-
ing a plurality also of material substances. In Dr. Broad's
terminology, both Descartes and Locke are Differentiating-
Attribute Dualists, but, while both are Specific-Property
Pluralists with reference to Mind, Descartes is a Specific-
Property Monist and Locke a Specific-Property Pluralist
with reference to Matter,12 In other words, Locke, as a
protagonist of the Corpuscular Philosophy of Boyle, holds
not only that the external world exists in itself and can be
known through itself, but also that its parts exist in them-
selves and can be known through themselves. 13 Now it is
certain that bodies are at least related to one another and
probable that they are also related to minds. Locke at any
rate doubts neither proposition. In order, therefore, to
distinguish knowledge of an individual body through itself
from knowledge of its relations to other things, he is anx-
ious to preserve an absolute distinction between qualities
and relations. According to this distinction, knowledge of
the relations in which a given body stands is, indeed,
knowledge about this body, and may even be a clue to
knowledge of what this body is in itself. But it is no more
than a clue. Knowledge of what a given body is in itself
is knowledge, not of the relations in which it stands, but
12 The Mind and its Place in Nature, p. 20 et seq.
13 That Boyle uses the tenn "Substance" strictly seems clear
from The Origin of Forms and Qualities, p. 42.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 59
of the qualities which it has. Now many apparent qualities
turn out on investigation to be relations, and it is not al-
ways easy to decide whether an apparent quality is really a
quality or not. But it is not difficult to illustrate the mean-
ing of the distinction as Locke understands it. The shape
of a given table is, prima facie at least, a quality of this
table; but its being in this room is a relation because it
involves something other than this table. A change in a
relation would not logically, though it might causally, in-
volve a change in the table, or would not itself be, though
it-or what caused it-might cause, a change in the table.
But a change in its shape would be eO ipso a change in the
table.
It is, accordingly, an important part of Locke's pro-
gramme to smell out pseudo-qualities. Now there is one
kind of relation which he thinks especially likely to be
mistaken for a quality, the kind of relation which, accord-
ing to his wider use of the term, he calls a "power". The
power of a body either to produce new qualities in another
body or to produce an idea in the mind of a percipient is
in ordinary discourse spoken of as a quality. The source
of the mistake is, Locke thinks, our ignorance of the quality
or qualities "by means of which" the body has the power.
But according to Locke a body can have a power only by
means of a quality, and as long as we know only the power
we are ignorant of what the body is in itself; while, if we
know the quality, we do not need to mention the power
in a statement of what the body is in itself. To say of a
body that it has the power to produce a certain effect
affirms no more than that the realisation of this effect is
causally dependent on a number of conditions, of which
only the possession of an unknown quality by the body is
known to be actual. To this it· may be objected that we
can never be sure that the body has a certain power with-
out knowing also the quality on which the power depends.
And this may be true. But we do sometimes have at least a
strong reason for supposing that a body has a certain
power, even when we have no suspicion of the nature of
the quality or when the nature of the quality is conjec-
tured in order to account for the power supposed already
60 Reginald Jackson
known. Thus, if we observe what happens when a number
of bodies, which are not known to differ in relevant quali-
ties, are successively introduced into an otherwise unchang-
ing environment, we treat the differences in what happens
as evidence of different powers of the bodies. Now Locke
thinks that when we believe that a body has certain pow-
ers, but are ignorant of the qualities on which these pow-
ers depend, we should supplement a statement of what
the body is, which will consist of a list of its known quali-
ties, by a statement of what it does under certain condi-
tions, so far as what it does under these conditions is not
already accounted for in our statement of what it is. But,
when in our ignorance of qualities we thus have recourse
to powers, we should, he thinks, treat the powers not as
themselves qualities, but as signs of unknown qualities.
So taken, they will indicate not our knowledge of what a
given body is in itself, but our knowledge of our partial
ignorance of what this body is in itself, an ignorance which
Locke sometimes hopes may be made good by the progress
of Physical Science.
The distinction between Primary and Secondary quali-
ties is a special case of the distinction between Qualities
and Powers, secondary qualities and powers proper being
species of powers. But Locke's definitions are complicated
and embarrassed by an attempt to take account of distinc-
tions other than that between qualities and powers: and,
in accordance with the principle that definitions should
be accepted where possible, it will be necessary to adduce
arguments to show that Locke's language in the definitions
is not altogether the language he would have used had he
been fully aware of its implications.
There is a most formidable difficulty in Locke's defini-
tion of primary qualities. If we have interpreted him cor-
rectly, Locke means by primary qualities, not a kind of
qualities, but all qualities, and he calls them primary to
distinguish them, not from other qualities, but from pow-
ers, which are in his view not qualities at all but only
wrongly supposed to be qualities. "Primary" is thus equiv-
alent to "in tlle strict sense". Moreover it is a knowledge
of qualities that is to constitute a knowledge of what an
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 61
individual body is in itself. Now it is clear that the quali-
ties of a body may cease to qualify it and be succeeded by
others, and it may even be true that at every moment some
of the qualities of a body are perishing. In any case, since
the powers of a body depend on its qualities, its qualities
are not more stable than its powers, though they are per-
haps more stable than its actual behaviour. To the claim,
then, that a knowledge of the qualities of an individual
body is a knowledge of what the body is in itself, it may
be objected, that, if by an individual body is meant some-
thing that persists through perishing states, a knowledge
of its qualities is only a knowledge of what the individual
body becomes, or is at a given moment. What is so known
is not the persistent individual but its perishing states,
which just because they are states of it are other than it.
Now such criticism if pressed perhaps compels the aban-
donment of the attempt to know the persistent individual.
It is probably because he feels uneasy about this danger
that Locke tries to meet it by defining primary qualities
in such a way as to enable them to qualify an individual
body throughout its different states. Unfortunately for his
purpose, he can do this only by taking qualities abstractly
and by abstracting from just those determinations of quali-
ties which on his view distinguish one body from another.
The determinations, which, if taken as always qualifying
the individual, are fatal to its persistence, are indispen-
sable to its distinguishability from other individuals. Thus,
because a piece of wax, which is spherical and at rest at
one moment, may be cubical and in motion at another
moment, Locke is unwilling to include its determinate
shape and its determinate motion-and-rest among its pri-
mary qualities. But at every moment it has shape and
motion-and-rest, if we abstract from the determinate form
in which alone these qualities can exist. These, therefore,
are primary qualities. But every other body also has shape
and motion-and-rest. And Locke is not unaware of this
consequence, which is admitted in his definition, primary
qualities being defined as "such as are utterly inseparable
from the body, in what state soever it be; and such as in
r*
62 Reginald Jackson
all the alterations and changes it suffers, all the force can
be used upon it, it constantly keeps; and such as sense
constantly finds in every particle of matter which has bulk
enough to be perceived; and the mind finds inseparable
from every particle of matter, though less than to make
itself singly perceived by our senses".14
In order to support the view that, while Locke had in
mind in this definition the dangers we have just con-
sidered, he could not have defined primary qualities in this
way without losing sight of the work for which he designed
them, we shall first enquire into the consequences of his
.definition if strictly followed, and shall then adduce ha-
bitual and central doctrines which are incompatible with
it.
First we must attempt a distinction, which Locke does
not draw, between the terms "individual" and "particular,"
which Locke uses indiscriminately.15 It doeS not matter
for our present purpose whether these two terms are usu-
ally used indiscriminately, nor whether the meanings we
shall assign to them are backed by customary usage. It
does not matter even if the distinction is one that cannot
be maintained without qualification when critically ex-
amined. It is at least a distinction between two concep-
tions which will serve to distinguish two different theses
between which Locke does not seem to have finally chosen.
By an individual, we shall mean something that persists
through passing states and is able to retain its identity
amid change only because the perishing qualities are not
essential to it because not part of what is meant by it. By
a particular, we shall mean something to which every qual-
ity,' that belongs to it at all, is essential, and which, COD-
sequently, if even one quality gives place to another, ceases
to exist and gives up its place to a new particular. A par-
ticular can have duration, therefore, only if, and for as
long as, all its qualities endure. Now there are two roads
open to Locke. Either he may try to show that the ma-
terial world consists of a number of individual substances,
each existing in itself and knowable through itself: or he
14 II, VIII, 9. 111 III, III, 1, 2, 6.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 63
may, giving up the view that the individual substances are
knowable through themselves, contend only that they are
knowable through their particular perishing states. If the
latter alternative is chosen it would be accurate to say, not
that individual substances are known through their perish-
ing states, but that only the particular perishing states are
known, which is to confess that the substantial reference
of the term "state" will be a serious difficulty.
It is the former alternative that attracts Locke when he
is not attacking the problem in detail. For, whatever the
difficulty of vindicating it, Locke throughout takes the
view that there are persistent individual material sub-
stances, and that somehow we know this. And it is the
former alternative which his definition both requires and
excludes; requires, because invariability is part of what he
means by a quality; yet excludes, because, inevitably, the
invariable qualities he enumerates do not serve to dis-
tinguish one body from another. Now, if we ask what on
this view is meant by the identity of an individual with
itself at different times, the only possible answer would
seem to be that which Locke gives in his chapter on Iden-
tity and Diversity.16 The identity of an atom, we are
there told, an atom being "a continued body under one
immutable superficies", is determined by its relation to
the time and the place in which it began to exist. The
identity of a mass is determined by the identity of its con-
stituent atoms, "let the parts be ever so differently jum-
bled". As the identity of the mass cannot be determined
independently of the identity of the atoms, only the iden-
tity of the atom need engage our attention. And here we
find that Locke's account of the identity of an individual
substance is open to a fatal criticism. For its identity rests
not on invariable qualities nor on any sort of qualities but
on a relation, one, too, to something which is itself rela-
tive, since Locke admits "place" to be a relative term,17
Thus the attempt to pursue this alternative results in an
account of the would-be substance in terms not of quali-
ties but of relations, and by abandoning the Specific-
16 II, XXVII, 2, 4. 17 II, XIII, 7-10.
64 Reginald Jackson
Property Pluralism defeats the purpose of the distinction
between primary and secondary qualities.
But it is the latter alternative which, despjte the defini-
tion, dominates Locke's treatment. To mark a distinction
to which reference has already been made, we shall use the
terms "determinate qualities" and "indeterminate quali-
ties". An example of the former is "equilateral triangu-
larity", of the latter, "shape". It will be seen that deter-
minateness admits of degrees. Thus "triangularity" is a
quality of a degree of determinateness intermediate be-
tween those of the examples just given. We shall reckon
among determinate qualities all qualities not common to
all bodies. With this distinction we shall adduce the ha-
bitual and central doctrines which seem incompatible with
Locke's definition of primary qualities.
Both the secondary qualities and the powers proper of a
body depend on the primary qualities of its insensible
parts. 1S But the secondary qualities and the powers proper
of a given body are peculiar to it. Therefore, the primary
qualities on which they depend must also be peculiar to it.
These are, therefore, not common to all bodies and are
determinate qualities. Secondly, we are ignorant of the
primary qualities of the insensible parts of bodies, and it
is just because of this ignorance that in trying to describe
a given body we have recourse to its secondary qualities
and powers proper. But we are acquainted with the pri-
mary qualities of the sensible parts. The primary qualities
of the sensible parts are, therefore, different from those of
the insensible parts and must be determinate qualities.
Thirdly, it is possible "to alter • . . the bulk, figure, tex-
ture, and motion"19 of a body. This is possible only if
the qualities are determinate. Fourthly, abstract ideas are
formed by "leaving out" of complex ideas "what is peculiar
to each".20 Now ideas of primary qualities are one of two
kinds of original ideas of sensation. They are, therefore,
not abstract ideas. But they are like the qualities of which
they are ideas, and these qualities must accordingly be
determinate. This last argument, however, should not be
18 II, VIn, 10, 14, 23. 19 II, VII, 23. 20 III, III, 7.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 65
pressed, as Locke's doctrine about the origin of ideas is not
set forth until the third book; and there are also great
difficulties in the way of interpreting the statement that
primary qualities are like the ideas they produce.21
In one section 22 it looks almost as if Locke were at-
tempting to distinguish determinate qualities under the
name "real qualities", which he applies to "the particular
bulk, number, figure, and motion of the parts of fire or
snow," which "are really in them". But almost immedi-
ately23 the terms "real qualities" and "primary qualities"
are used as synonyms. So that this is only another argu-
ment in support of the view that in practice Locke does
not regard determinateness as excluded by his definition of
primary qualities.
In view, then, of the difficulties which the alternative
involves and of the passages just cited, we seem right in
concluding that despite his definition Locke does recognise
determinate primary qualities and does not consider their
fluctuating character to be an impediment. Though vari-
able, their variations, unlike those of relations, are eo ipso
variations of what they qualify. They are what the indi-
vidual substance is at a given moment at least, as con-
trasted with what it does or may do, and in general as
contrasted with the relations in which it stands. It is with
determinate qualities, thus understood, that the secondary
qualities should be contrasted, if the distinction between
primary and secondary qualities is to be kept free from
the perplexities of other issues.
In examining Locke's definition of secondary qualities
it is necessary to take account of a distinction which he
draws between two kinds of powers, "powers to produce
various sensations in us" and "powers to alter the bulk, fig-
ure, texture, and motion of another body".24 Only the
former are called "Secondary Qualities" while only the
latter, "which are allowed to be barely powers," are there-
after called "Powers". But it remains true that Locke does
hold that secondary qualities are powers in the non-
technical meaning of the word, and are not qualities. We
21 Infra, p. 68. 22 II, VIII, 17. 23 II, VIII, 22.
24 II, VIII, 10, 23, 24; XXIII, 7, 8.
66 Regi1U11d Jackson
have maintained that by primary qualities Locke means
not a kind of qualities but qualities in the strict sense.
Conformably with this he means by secondary qualities
not a kind of qualities but entities that are wrongly sup-
posed to be qualities and are really relations. The force of
the qualification "secondary" is negative. Such a term as
quasi-qualities would render Locke's meaning with less
likelihood of misunderstanding. He himself insists on the
contention that the secondary qualities are not qualities
any more than are those powers which are "allowed to be
barely powers"; and he uses the term secondary qualities
only "to comply with the common way of speaking".25
There is a further restriction in the definitions of both
secondary qualities and powers proper. They are said to
depend not on all the primary qualities of a body but only
on the primary qualities of the insensible parts.26 Locke
follows Boyle in his doctrine that the conditions of the
various sensations are to be sought in various arrangements
of minute particles of bodies. The terms "sensible" and
"insensible parts" are open to the objection that they im-
ply, what Locke denies, that if they are of a sufficient size
bodies are perceptible. Instead, therefore, of the phrases
"primary qualities of the sensible parts" and "primary
qualities of the insensible parts" it will be convenient to
use the modern terms "macroscopic" and "microscopic
qualities". It may be thought that the restriction of the
term "secondary qualities" to powers depending on micro-
scopic qualities is not important, on the ground that all
powers depend on microscopic qualities, including the
powers to produce ideas of primary qualities. But unless
situation is included among the primary qualities, it is
impossible to ignore macroscopic qualities in an attempt
to discover the conditions determining such ideas of sensa-
tion as apparent size and shape. And Locke does not in-
clude situation, because he admits "place" to be relative. 27
It is clear, too, that the qualities referred to in the head-
ing, "How primary qualities produce their ideas,"28 are
macroscopic qualities. Locke holds, therefore, that some
25 II, VIII, 10. 26 II, VIII, 10, 23. 27 II, XIII, 7-10.
28 II, VIII, 11.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 67
powers to produce ideas depend on macroscopic qualities.
And the failure to classify these powers is not confined to
the definition. Locke never uses the term "secondary quali-
ties" to indicate these powers. The only explanation seems
to be that he does not think it important to refer to them,
because he thinks that we already know the qualities on
which they depend. But for this restriction, it would be
true that all ideas are produced by secondary qualities.
It is in any case true that all ideas are produced by pri-
mary qualities. Indeed, but for the restriction just noted,
we should be doing only justice to Locke's view of power
as something distinct from both idea and quality, by say-
ing that all ideas are produced by secondary qualities by
means of primary qualities. But the restriction of second-
ary qualities to powers depending on the microscopic
qualities is important and is probably the key to the prob-
lem which has now to be considered.
At least one important test of an interpretation of
Locke's distinction between primary and secondary quali-
ties is its success in dealing with the puzzling doctrine that
primary qualities are like the ideas they produce in us,
while secondary qualities are unlike the ideas they produce
in' us, and with the even more puzzling terminology ac-
cording to which the ideas said to be produced by the
primary qualities are called ideas of primary qualities,
while those said to be produced by the secondary qualities
are called ideas of secondary qualities. 29 On the view that
primary qualities are themselves perceived, or that second-
ary qualities are mind-dependent ideas, it is hard to see
what could be made of either the doctrine or the termi-
nology. It remains to attempt to deal with these difficulties
on the view that primary qualities are qualities and sec-
ondary qualities are powers. On this view one and the
same idea may be said to be produced by either a primary
or a secondary quality, in much the same way as one and
the same law may be said to be produced by either the
nature or the power of a legislature. But we have seen that
Locke uses the term "secondary quality" only of powers
29 II, VIII, 13, 1 5.
68 Reginald Jackson
dependent on what he calls "the primary qualities of the
insensible parts". The ideas of the secondary qualities are,
therefore, probably held to be produced by microscopic
qualities, while the ideas of the primary qualities are prob-
ably held to be produced by macroscopic qualities. Locke's
doctrine then will be that macroscopic qualities produce
resembling ideas, while microscopic qualities produce non-
resembling ideas. But what the ideas produced by the
microscopic qualities fail to resemble is not the secondary
qualities, but the microscopic qualities themselves. There
would be no sense in saying that an idea does not resemble
a power to produce it. And in fact Locke is inclined to
vary the statement that secondary qualities produce ideas
that do not resemble them by such statements as that
there is nothing like our ideas existing in the bodies them-
selves,so and that "what is sweet, blue, or warm in idea,
is but the certain bulk, figure, and motion of the insensible
parts, in the bodies themselves, which we call SO".S1 This
is a point worth making. It was, and still is, widely, if
vaguely, believed, that bodies have colour, heat, etc., with-
out its being noticed that if these are qualities of bodies
they can neither be nor resemble sensibilia. It is clear,
too, that on the Representative Theory of Perception,
nothing is to be gained by supposing that microscopic
qualities do resemble sensibilia.
But how can the macroscopic qualities, any more than
the microscopic qualities, resemble the ideas they pro-
duce? At least one reason for maintaining the Representa-
tive Theory of Perception, with its distinction between
qualities and ideas, is the recognition of the ubiquitous
permeation of the objects of perception by illusory char-
acteristics. It is in fact just because all ideas are unlike
any qualities that, we might suppose, Locke holds that no
ideas are qualities. He' must know, then, that the state-
ment, that "a circle or square are the same, whether in idea
or existence, in the mind or in the manna",52 is not true,
if it means that a surface of a certain shape produces a
percept of the same shape. There would be more to be
80 II, VIII, 15. 81 II, VIII, 1 5. 82 II, VIII, 18.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 69
said for the statement that the perceived shape resembles
the shape of the surface that produces it, to the extent to
which a figure resembles its projection on a surface that
distorts it. Locke might also say that we are able to allow
for the distortion by an inference, or by a process which
simulates inference, and so to arrive at an idea which
completely resembles the shape of the surface and even
perhaps of the whole body. But, if nothing short of com-
plete rcsemblance is claimed, and that between the origi-
nal idea of sensation and the quality that produces it, this
can be allowed only if the quality is taken to be inde-
terminate, and the idea (impossible since it is an original
idea) to be an ab~tract idea.
So much for the doctrine. But what is meant by calling
these two sets of ideas, ideas of primary and secondary
qualities respectively? The phrase "idea of' is readily taken
to mean "apprehension of". But Locke does not think that
either primary or secondary qualities (or the microscopic
qualities on which secondary qualities depend) are per-
ceived, and perception is the only kind of apprehension
that is here in question. Moreover he defines "idea" as an
object apprehended. ss Lastly, it must be an object if the
statement that it is like or unlike a quality is to be sig-
nificant. Again, "idea of" might mean "idea, namely," the
phrase being parallel to such phrases as "City of Troy";
and this is one possible interpretation of such phrases as
"idea of blue", if "blue" is supposed to be a sensible and
not either a group of microscopic qualities or a secondary
quality. But again, Locke cannot be supposed to identify
the idea and that which it is said to be "of' in the phrases
we are examining, least of all when the idea is said to be
unlike the quality, and not without extreme impropriety
when it is said to be like the quality. Possibly "of' is equiv-
alent to "representing" or "doing duty for". The idea of a
primary quality (or rather a macroscopic quality) repre-
sents tlle quality in our complex idea of the body. This
seems to be sanctioned by general usage. My "idea of a
horse" is used to mean an object which I apprehend and
83 Intra. 8, II, VIII, 8.
70 Reginald Jackson
which represents and resembles, more or less according to
my knowledge, a horse. But the idea of a secondary quality
represents and fails to resemble, not a secondary quality,
but the quality on which the secondary quality depends.
Here, as often, Locke seems to confuse the secondary
quality with the quality on which it depends. 'The accurate
statement of his doctrine would seem to be, "Ideas which
are produced by microscopic qualities are unlike those
qualities, but they represent them in our naIve complex
ideas of bodies".
Before passing to those writers who have represented
primary qualities as perceptible qualities of bodies and
secondary qualities as mind-dependent sensibilia, we shall
cite a few passages in the Essay which countenance this
interpretation. 'The passages we have just examined illus-
trate the tendency to identify secondary qualities with
the qualities on which they depend. It is only by supposing
that Locke does this that we have been able to attach any
meaning to the phrase "idea of a secondary quality" and
to the statement that secondary qualities are unlike the
ideas they produce in us. And the statement that "what is
sweet, blue, or warm in idea, is but the certain bulk, fig-
ure, and motion of the insensible parts, in the bodies
themselves" involves the same inaccuracy as Boyle's identi-
fication of the heat of the sun with the motion of its parts.
But Locke more frequently identifies secondary qualities
with the sensations they produce. 'Thus he draws a dis-
tinction between secondary qualities immediately and me-
diately perceivable.84 He also compares them to pain and
says: "Take away the sensation of them; let not the eyes
see light or colours, nor the ears hear sound; let the palate
not taste, nor the nose smell; and all colours, tastes,
odours, and sounds, as they are such particular ideas, van-
ish and cease, and are reduced to their causes".85 'The
qualification "as they are such particular ideas" should
really read "or rather the ideas which these powers pro-
duce". Locke also, like Boyle, uses the term "sensible quali-
ties" as a term equivalent to "secondary qualities",36 which
84 II, VIII, 2.6; XXIII, 7. 85 II, VIII, 17. 36 II, VIII, 2. 3.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 71
leads to confusion in Berkeley. The difficulty is largely due
to the fact that, whether secondary qualities are to mean
powers as with Locke, or unknown qualities as with Reid,
we have as a rule only one word to indicate both the sec-
ondary quality and what Locke calls the idea of it. Lastly,
there are many passages in which bodies and their quali-
ties are said or implied to be perceptible. The terms "sen-
sible" and "insensible parts", strictly read, have this im-
plication, and it is explicit in such statements as, "We
perceive these original qualities"87 and the "[primary
qualities of bodies] are really in them-whether anyone's
senses perceive them or no".38 Such irregularities have
encouraged the supposition that the primary qualities
themselves become ideas by being perceived, which is in-
consistent with the whole doctrine of Representative Per-
ception, as embodied in Locke's distinction between Qual-
ities and Ideas. It may be noted, before leaving the
passages opposed to the view we have taken, that "Quality"
is defined as "the power to produce any idea in our
mind".39 But it seems clear from the paragraph which
precedes that in which this definition occurs that Locke
really means qualities to indicate "modifications of mat-
ter", in which case this is no more than another instance
of his inaccuracy.
It remains to trace what seems an erroneous interpre-
tation of Locke's distinction in the writings of Berkeley
and Reid and of some modem critics.
Berkeley in The Principles of Human Knowledge un-
derstands Locke to mean by primary and secondary quali-
ties not imperceptible qualities and powers but perceptible
qualities and mind-dependent ideas. Thus "those who as-
sert that figure, motion, and the rest of the primary or
original qualities, do exist without the mind" acknowledge
that "secondary qualities do not, which they tell us are
sensations existing in the mind alone, that depend on and
are occasioned by the different size, texture, and motion
of the minute particles of matter".40 Again, those "who
make a distinction between primary and secondary quali-
87 II, VIII, 12.. 88 II, VIII, 17. 89 II, VIII, 8. 40X.
72 Reginald Jackson
ties" are said to mean extension, etc., by primary qualities,
and by secondary qualities "all other sensible qualities".41
This implies that both primary and secondary qualities
are sensible qualities and Berkeley has already defined
sensible qualities as "the ideas perceived by sense"P The
awkwardness of this interpretation appears in the argu-
ment that what has been proved of "certain sensible quali-
ties", namely, that they "have no existence in matter, or
without the mind" "may be likewise proved of all other
sensible qualities whatsoever".43 The awkwardness arises
from the fact that Locke's distinction between primary
and secondary qualities is grounded on the Representative
Theory of Perception, which Berkeley's version of the dis-
tinction ignores and precludes. The result is that Berkeley,
in order to argue that the variability of our ideas, which
Locke found incompatible with the view that the ideas of
the secondary qualities resemble qualities of bodies, is
equally incompatible with the view that the ideas of the
primary qualities do so, has to take "the existence in mat-
ter or without the mind" of "sensible qualities" to mean
their resemblance to qualities of matter, and by implica-
tion to represent Locke as having maintained that primary
qualities resemble qualities but that secondary qualities
do not. In fact the distinction between qualities and ideas
of qualities, on which Locke's whole doctrine of our knowl-
edge of the external world is based, becomes meaningless
when qualities are taken to be themselves ideas, some
mind-dependent, and some independent. The argument
that the primary qualities "are inseparably united with the
other sensible qualities",44 an argument which has been
often renewed, notably in the first chapter of Bradley's
Appearance and Realit y45 (where, however, Bradley does
not claim to be discussing Locke's distinction), is valid
only if secondary qualities are taken to mean mind-
dependent ideas. If the terms are used in accordance with
Locke's definitions, there is no difficulty whatever in con-
ceiving primary qualities without secondary qualities, the
difficulty being rather to conceive them with secondary
41 IX. 42 VII. 43 XIV. 44X. 45Pp. 16-17.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 73
qualities; and there is further no reason on Locke's view
why primary qualities should be able to be conceived with-
out secondary qualities, for Locke never asserts that they
exist without secondary qualities, but only that often the
secondary qualities fail to produce ideas.
Reid in his Inquiry into the Human Mind habitually
takes Locke to mean by secondary qualities what Reid calls
sensations or ideas,46 and accordingly traces back the dis-
tinction between Primary and Secondary Qualities to
Democritus.47 He himself means by secondary qualities
the unknown qualities of bodies which produce sensations
in US,48 the qualities by means of which bodies have
secondary qualities according to Locke. Reid claims that
his usage is in accordance with common sense. 49 He ad-
mits, however, that nothing could be more shocking to the
plain man than that colour should be alleged to be in
that which he conceives to be invisible.5o Yet he himself
means by colour the unknown cause of a known effect,51
and it is only by making perception cover the whole proc-
ess of apprehension of both sign and significate that he can
say on his view that colour is a quality of something vis-
ible. In fact the plain man has to be shocked one way or
another. Either we may try to save such statements as
"This body is blue", by taking blue to mean, either, with
Reid, an unknown quality of the body which causes the
prcsel)tation of a sensibile, or, with Locke, the power to
produce a sensibile by means of the unknown quality; or
we may try to save such statements as "this colour is
brighter than that", by taking colour to mean what Reid
calls a sensation and what Locke calls "an idea of a sec-
ondary quality".
Reid's criticism of Locke 52 provides a good illustration
of the elusive nature of what Locke meant by power. It is
because he recognises no third entity, but takes the only
possible alternatives to be the view that secondary quali-
ties are unknown qualities and the view that they are ideas,
that Reid, seeing that Locke did not accept the fonner,
46Inq., V, 4, 8; VI, 6. 47 V, 4.
48 II, 8; IV, 1; VI, 4, 5. 49VI, 5. IiOVI,5·
iiI VI, 4. 02 VI, 6.
74 Reginald Jackson
supposes that he must have accepted the latter, and
chooses the former for himself. His difficulty appears
clearly in the following passage: "We see then, that Locke,
having found that the ideas of secondary qualities are no
resemblances, was compelled, by a hypothesis common to
all philosophers to deny that they53 are real qualities of
body. It is more difficult to assign a reason why, after this,
he should call them secondary qualities; for this name, if
I mistake not, was of his invention. Surely he did not mean
that they were secondary qualities of the mind; and I do
not see with what propriety, or even by what tolerable li-
cence, he could call them secondary qualities of body,
after finding that they were no qualities of body at all."54
This quite misses Locke's view that it is because they are
relations of a body to something else that the secondary
qualities should not be regarded as qualities, and yet,
though they do not belong to a body in itself, that they
do belong to it in some sense, while they belong to the
mind in no sense.
As there are many statements which may be made about
either sensibilia or powers to produce sensibilia, it is not
always possible to ascertain which of these two meanings
a writer assigns to the term "secondary quality". But the
identification of secondary qualities with sensibilia, which
is usually accompanied by the supposition that primary
qualities are perceptible, seems to be common to a num-
ber of modern critics.
Thus Prof. Campbell Fraser, both in his article in the
Encyclo/JCEdia Britannica55 and in his edition of the Es-
say, both identifies secondary qualities with ideas of sec-
ondary qualities and takes primary qualities to be per-
ceptible. In the article, commenting on Bk. II, c. 8 of the
Essay, he declares the distinction between primary and
secondary qualities to be a distinction between two kinds
53 Reid does not seem to distinguish between Locke's "second-
ary qualities" and Locke's "ideas of secondary qualities". It is
hard to see what this distinction could be if secondary qualities
are taken to mean ideas. Cf. Berkeley's difficulty in his argument
for the reduction of primary qualities to the status of secondary
qualities (supra).
114 VI, 6. 55 Art., "John Locke."
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 75
of "sense-data", the primary qualities being "revelations
of external things in their mathematical relations" and the
secondary qualities being "sensations". In the introduction
to his edition of the Essay, he says that Locke refers all
secondary or imputed qualities of outward things to the
mind56 and cites with approval Berkeley's argument that
it is impossible to have ideas of solid atoms without imput-
ing some secondary qualities. 57
Prof. Gibson in his Locke's Theory of Knowledge is less
definite. But he seems, like Reid, to miss the alternative
which Locke chose, when he says, "As powers in the things,
the secondary qualities can be nothing but primary quali·
ties".58 He seems also to take secondary qualities to be
sensibilia when he says that "any apparent characteristics
of a thing which it possesses at one time but not at another
are merely indications of relations in which it stands to
other things and to our minds and are secondary quali·
ties".59 It is not surprising, therefore, that he should hold
that "the doctrine covered by these terms originated
among the Greek Atomists and was revived by GaliIeo
and Descartes".60
Prof. Kemp Smith in his Prolegomena to an Idealist
Theory of Knowledge, in discussing the passage in Il Sag·
giatore, where Galileo is supposed to have anticipated
Locke's distinction between primary and secondary quali·
ties, but in which Galileo really draws a distinction b~
tween qualities and what Locke calls ideas,61 in a foot-
note62 credits Locke only with the terms, and treats the
distinction as one among sensibilia. And in the Studies in
the Cartesian Philosophy, in the chapter on Cartesian
Principles in Locke, he takes the same view: "We do not
56CXXVIII.
57 CXXIX. Cf. also footnotes, p. 168, n. 4, p. 173, n. 2 (which
gives a strange interpretation of Locke's doctrine of "Resem-
blance"). P. 158, n. 1 (which identifies primary qualities with
visual and tactual sense-data). P. 170, n. 4 (which identifies
secondary qualities with sensations). Cf. also Selections from
Berkeley, 5th ed., p. 38, n. 3, p- 4 2 , n. 3.
58 Pp. 102-103.
50p. 101. (Italics mine.) GOP.101.
61 11 Sag., sec. 48. 62 P. 22.
76 Reginald Jackson
know that constitution of the minute parts on which all
the other qualities depend . . . even if we did, we would
not be able to perceive any connexion between it and the
sensation which the body produces in us. Primary and
secondary qualities are not related as substance to its prop-
erties but as cause to effect."6B Again, "If that is a true
interpretation of the movement of Locke's mind, he would
thereby be brought to hold that what is true of the un-
bridgeable qualitative differences between the secondary
qualities must be true of all sensations regarded as mental
states".64
Dr. Whitehead, in The Concept of Nature, interprets
Locke in the same way. "Locke met this difficulty by a
theory of primary and secondary qualities. Namely, there
are some attributes of matter which we do perceive. These
are the primary qualities, and there are other things which
we perceive, such as colours, which are not attributes of
matter, but are perceived by us as if they were such at-
tributes. These are the secondary qualities of matter."65
Dr. G. A. Johnston takes the same view in his Develop-
ment of Berkeley's Philosophy, where he identifies second-
ary qualities with ideas of secondary qualities. o6 So, too,
Dr. H6ffding in his History of Modern Philosophy assigns
the authorship of the distinction between primary and
secondary qualities to Galileo and treats it as a distinction
common to all exponents of the Representative Theory of
Perception.67
The current use of the terms "primary" and "secondary
qualities" hardly needs illustration. Bradley's use of the
terms in Appearance and Reality has already been no-
ticed. They are similarly used by Dr. Alexander in Space,
Time and Deity.6s And they have been recently defined
in this sense with great precision by Dr. Broad. "A Pri-
mary Quality is a determinate characteristic which, we
have reason to believe, inheres literally and dyadically in
some physical object in some determinate form or other."
"A Secondary Quality is a determinate characteristic which
certainly inheres or seems to inhere literally and dyadically
63 P. 211. 64 P. 184.
67 Vol. I, pp. 183, 384.
Locke's Primary and Secondary Qualities 77
in the objective constituents of some perceptual situations
in some determinate form or other, but which there is no
reason to believe inheres literally and dyadically in any
physical object." "A Primary Quality, may, but need not,
inhere literally and dyadically in some objective constitu-
ent."69 As examples of secondary qualities he cites colour
and temperature, as examples of primary qualities which
inhere in both physical objects and objective constituents,
shape, size and position, and as examples of primary quali-
ties which inhere only in physical objects, electric charge
and magnetic properties. With the convenience or other-
wise of this use of these terms for the purposes of current
speculation this article is not concerned. But, if the inter-
pretation of Locke's distinction which this article attempts
is the true one, the current usage needs to be distinguished
from it.
69 Mind and its Place in Nature, p. 206.
 DID BERKELEY MISUNDERSTAND
LOCKE?
WINSTON H. F. BARNES

In a paper published some years ago (reprinted in this

volume, pp. 53-77 above) Mr. Reginald Jackson argued
that Locke's doctrine of Primary and Secondary Qualities
had been persistently misinterpreted by subsequent phi-
losophers. The real doctrine which Locke expounds is, as
the author shows, the doctrine that primary qualities are
genuinely qualities of bodies, whereas secondary qualities
are 'powers which a body possesses in virtue of the primary
qualities of its insensible parts'. Neither the qualities
proper nor the powers are to be confused with the ideas
which they respectively cause, whereas the distinction
'which Locke was supposed by Berkeley and Reid to have
drawn, is between qualities of bodies (these qualities be-
ing supposed to be perceptible) and ideas, sensations, or,
in current terminology, sensibilia (supposed not to exist
independently of the perception of them and to be the
effect of the action of bodies on minds)'.! Again, the au-
thor says: 'Berkeley in The Principles of Human Knowl-
edge understands Locke to mean by primary and second-
ary qualities not imperceptible qualities and powers but
perceptible qualities and mind-dependent ideas'.2
In this note I wish to refute the charge so far as it con-
cerns Berkeley. I am not concerned with Reid or any later
philosophers.
It would be a surprising fact, if true, that Berkeley
should have misunderstood Locke on this matter. Locke's
From Mind, Vol. XLIX (1940). Reprinted by permission of
the author and Mind.
lOp cit., p. 54. 20" cit., p. 71.
Did Berkeley Misunderstand Locke? 79
Essay formed his main philosophical reading, and we know
that he paid particular attention to the chapter of the
Essay in which the distinction between primary and sec-
ondary qualities is discussed by Locke, referring even to
the particular section in which Locke most precisely de-
fines his position.3
( i) Let us consider first the assertion that Berkeley held
that by primary qualities Locke meant perceptible quali-
ties, i.e., that according to Locke we perceive the exten-
sion, motion, etc., of bodies. On a number of different oc-
casions Berkeley presents the argument that it is absurd to
talk of archetypes or patterns of our ideas existing in bod-
ies: (a) Commonplace Book, 666, where Berkeley first put
forward his contention that 'an idea can resemble nothing
but an idea'; (b) The Principles, § 8; (c) ibidem, § 56;
(d) ibidem, § 90; (e) Three Dialogues-Fraser, vol. 1,
p. 465. All these passages are an attack on the theory that
the ideas of sensible qualities have corresponding arche-
types or originals in matter, and they presuppose that the
view they are attacking makes a distinction between ideas
and their archetypes, e.g., between the idea of extension
and the quality of extension in the body. If it is Locke's
views that are under consideration it is clear that Berke-
ley's argument recognises them to imply a distinction be-
tween the ideas of primary qualities and the primary
qualities themselves. But there is no .very strong evidence
that the argument is directed against Locke's theory,
though it is usually supposed to be and I am inclined to
think it is. Slight evidence, however, there is. In § 9 of the
Principles the subject of primary and secondary qualities
is introduced for the first time, and here Locke is obviously
the object of criticism. In § 14, which continues this criti-
cism, Berkeley uses the same argument about the absurdity
of supposing archetypes with reference to Locke. If, then,
these passages do refer to Locke, Berkeley obviously un-
derstood Locke to make a distinction between the primary
3 Commonplace Book: 114. P. Round figure a perception or
sensation in the mind, but in the body is a power. L.b. 2, c. 8,
s. 8; 115. Mem. Mark well the later part of the last cited section;
338. P. Mem. Strictly to remark L.b. 2, c. 8, s. 8.
80 Winston H. F. Barnes
qualities (which exist in the body and are not perceptible)
and the ideas of them (which arc perceptible but have no
existence in the body).
Curiously enough, the best evidence that Berkeley un-
derstood perfectly well that Locke by primary qualities
meant imperceptible qualities and not perceptible quali-
ties comes from a passage quoted by Mr. Jackson to prove
exactly the opposite. It is from § 9 of the Principles. The
first two sentences quoted by Mr. Jackson run as follows:
"Some there are who make a distinction betwixt primary
and secondary qualities. By the former they mean exten-
sion, figure, motion, rest, solidity or impenetrability, and
number; by the latter they denote all other sensible quali-
ties, as colours, sounds, tastes and so forth." If this passage
stood alone I do not think we could have any doubt that
Berkeley had misunderstood Locke. For it would then
naturally be interpreted to mean that Locke supposed fig-
ure, ,motion, etc., to be sensible qualities. But the next
sentence proceeds as follows: "The ideas we have of these
last they acknowledge not to be the resemblances of any-
thing existing without the mind, or unperceived; but they
will have our ideas of the primary qualities to be patterns
or images of things which exist without the mind, in an
unthinking substance which they call Matter". This sen-
tence elucidates the meaning of the previous two sen-
tences. It makes clear that Berkeley understood correctly
that, for Locke, oUI ideas of the primary qualities exist in
the mind, whereas the qualities themselves are the arche-
types existing in an unthinking substance.
(ii) Did Berkeley misunderstand Locke's view as to the
nature of secondary qualities? Did he think Locke meant
by them mind-dependent ideas, and fail to grasp that
Locke's doctrine was in fact that the secondary qualities
are powers in bodies?
In the Principles, § 10, Berkeley says: "They who as-
sert that figure, motion and the rest of the primary or
original qualities do exist without the mind, in unthink-
ing substances, do at the same time acknowledge that col-
ours, sounds, heat, cold and suchlike secondary qualities,
do not; which they tell us are sensations, existing in the
Did Berkeley Misunderstand Locke? 81
mind alone, that depend on and are occasioned by the dif-
ferent size, texture, and motion of the minute particles of
matter."
I do not think it possible to deny that Berkeley here
uses the term 'secondary qualities' in a misleading way.
But even here it seems to me that what Berkeley does is
not to misunderstand Locke's theory, but to give to the
term 'secondary qualities' a meaning other than that which
Locke, when he is speaking exactly, gives to it. This is
certainly regrettable, considering that it occurs in a passage
which is a statement of Locke's doctrine, but it does not
necessarily mean that the doctrine has been misunder-
stood. Berkeley, I think, is here using the terms 'primary
qualities' and 'secondary qualities' simply as shorthand
expressions for two groups of phenomena, figure, etc., on
the one hand, colour, etc., on the other, to save the trou-
ble of enumerating the whole group. Read in this way the
passage is a fairly good account of Locke's views. For it
attributes to Locke the view that figure, motion, etc., exist
without the mind (i.e., as qualities in bodies as well as
ideas in the mind); whereas colour, sound, etc., exist only
as ideas in the mind, being caused by the figure, motion,
etc., in the body. This seems the obvious meaning of the
passage taken as a whole; and it represents quite fairly
what Locke himself says.
(iii) There is, however, one further point which re-
quires further defence. Locke, when he speaks exactly, ap-
plies the term 'secondary qualities' to powers in bodies to
produce various sensations in us by their primary qualities.
It is not easy to see what importance should be attached to
the distinction between the statement that ideas of colour,
etc., are caused by powers a body possesses in virtue of its
primary qualities and the statement that they are caused
by the primary qualities. But such as it is, Locke, in his
exacter moments, made the distinction.
Although Berkeley is not guilty of attributing to Locke
the view that secondary qualities are mind-dependent
ideas, he does seem to have failed to make this distinction
in the Principles, § 10, between the qualities bodies pos-
82 Winston H. F. Barnes
sess and the powers they possess in virtue of those quali-
ties. How venial the offence is may be judged by
considering that Locke himself slips into committing it
immediately after he has made the distinction between
powers and qualities.'
Nevertheless there are reasons for supposing that Berke-
ley was perfectly well aware of Locke's doctrine of 'pow-
ers'. He seems, in fact, to have proceeded from a modifica-
tion of Locke's view concerning the external causes of our
ideas to his own doctrine of "esse is percipi"; and, in doing
so, to have reflected earnestly upon the doctrine of powers.
Although he early realised that there could be no knowl-
edge of the particular nature of the qualities or powers
that cause our ideas he did not at once scrap the notion
of powers. An early entry in the Commonplace Book
reads:-
41. "Nothing corresponds to our primary ideas with-
out but powers. Hence a direct and brief demonstration
of an active powerfull being distinct from us, on whom
we depend, etc."
It is worth noticing that Berkeley here refers to primary
ideas, showing that he recognises a distinction between
the ideas of extension, motion, etc., and their causes. But
he has given up the notion that the causes in any way re-
semble the ideas and so calls til em powers, not qualities.
The same distinction between the ideas and the powers is
found in:
52. "Bodies, etc., do exist even when not perceived-
they being powers in the active being."
Yet another entry is obviously important in its reference
to Locke, but is very difficult to interpret:-
81. "I am more certain of ye existence and reality of
bodies than Mr. Locke; since he pretends onely to what he
calls sensitive knowledge, whereas 1 think 1 have demon-
'Essay, II, 8, § 15: On secondary qualities Locke writes:
"They are in the bodies we denominate from them, only a power
to produce those sensations in us: and what is sweet, blue or
warm in idea, is but the certain bulk, figure and motion of the
insensible parts in the bodies themselves which we caU so". My
italics.
Did Berkeley Misunderstand Locke? 83
strative knowledge of their existence-by them meaning
combinations of powers in an unknown substratum."
It appears that the last phrase refers to an early view
which Berkeley held, viz., that an object is a combination
of powers inhering in a substance of which we can know
nothing. 1i
If this interpretation is correct it seems that he later
came to think that the notion of an unknown substratum
was ridiculous; that there was no reason to suppose a spe-
cial power to produce such idea, but that only one power,
God, was necessary. It is perhaps significant that the
fourth entry after the one quoted immediately above
reads:-
85. "Powers. Quaere whether more or one onely?"
The development of Berkeley's thought is perhaps to be
seen in the following entries of the Commonplace Book:-
130. "M. Matter tho' allowed to exist may be no greater
than a pin's head."
133. "M. No active power but the Will: therefore Mat-
ter, if it exists, affects us not."
However, the notion of powers did not disappear very
easily from Berkeley's thought, for a later entry reads:
290. "M. Bodies &c. do exist whether we think of them
or no, they being taken in twofold sense-collections of
thoughts and collections of powers to cause those thoughts.
These later exist; tho' perhaps a parte rei it may be one
simple perfect power."
Again in another entry:-
302. "The twofold signification of Bodies, viz., Com-
binations of thoughts and Combinations of powers to raise
thoughts."
I) This is the interpretation of the passage adopted by Mr.
G. H. Johnston in his edition of the Commonpltice Book (p.
121 ). Another possible interpretation is that the last phrase refers
to Locke's doctrine, not Berkeley'S. But if this is so and Berkeley
was at this time believing that the ideas are the object, it is diffi-
cult to see why he should claim that we have demonstrative
knowledge of objects. He ought to claim, on Locke's terminology,
that we have intuitive knowledge of objects. (The reference in
these terms is to Locke's Essay, IV, 2, where intuitive, demon-
strative and sensitive knowledge are compared.)
84 Winston H. F. Barnes
In Entry 51 5 Berkeley is moving away from the twofold
signification of bodies, for he writes:-
51 5· "Qu. whether the substance of body or anything
else be any more than the collection of ideas included in
that thing?"
And finally:
814. "Not to mention the combination of powers, but
to say the things-the effects themselves-to really exist,
even when not actually perceived; but still with relation
to perception."
The 'twofold signification' is Berkeley's attempt to make
explicit Locke's doctrine concerning white, cold and
round, which "as they are in the snowball, I call qualities,
and as they are sensations or perceptions in our under-
standings, I call them ideas".
All these entries make it abundantly clear that Berkeley
was well aware of the distinction which Locke drew be-
tween imperceptible powers and mind-dependent ideas.
He was himself elaborating the distinction only to find
that it had to be scrapped in the end.
Mr. Jackson attempts to clinch the matter by the con-
tention that "the argument that the primary qualities 'are
inseparably united with the other sensible qualities' . . .
is valid only if secondary qualities are taken to mean mind-
dependent ideas".6 If this contention were sound it would
be shattering to my defence of Berkeley. The whole pas-
sage in Berkeley is as follows:-
"Now, if it be certain that these original qualities are
inseparably united with the sensible qualities, and not,
even in thought, capable of being abstracted from them,
it plainly follows that they exist only in the mind."7
Bcrkeley's use of tlle terms 'original qualities' and 'other
sensible qualities' is, once again, a shorthand one. He is
not using 'other sensible qualities' as Locke, when he
speaks exactly, would use the term. But this difference in
usage is not a misunderstanding of Locke. When Berkeley
says that colour, taste, etc., exist only in the mind tllis is
his way of saying that there is nothing like our ideas of
60p cit., p. 7'1.. 7 Principles, § 10.
Did Berkeley Misunderstand Locke? 85
colour, taste, etc., in the body. This still allows of the
existence in the body of powers which cause ideas of col-
our, etc., and is in harmony with Locke. But, of course,
when Berkeley concludes in the course of developing his
own theory that figure, motion, etc., exist only in the
mind, this carries with it an implication concerning col-
ours, tastes, etc., 'Viz., that there are no qualities of body at
all and consequently no powers to cause ideas of colour,
etc., and this separates him from Locke.

D
 SUBSTANCE, REALITY, AND
PRIMARY QUALITIES
JONATHAN BENNETT

Two bad' mistakes have been taken over from Berkeley

by most philosophers who have read and assessed him with
the casualness usually accorded to the great, dead phi-
losophers. Each mistake is in the nature of a conflation or
running together of two philosophical doctrines which
ought to be kept apart, and thus a conflation also of the
problems which the doctrines offer to solve. The doctrines
in question are all expounded in Locke's Essay Concerning
Human Understanding. They are: (1) a certain account
of what it is for a property to be instantiated by some-
thing; (2) a certain account of the distinction between
appearance and reality, or between how it is with me and
how it is with the world; and (3) a thesis about primary
and secondary qualities. Locke certainly accepted (2) and
( 3 ). His scathing attacks on (1) have usually been taken
as a defence of it-here Locke has suffered the usual fate
of the ironist.
In the first part of my paper I shall discuss the confla-
tion by Berkeley, and by most English philosophers since
his time, of (1) with (2). This conflation 'is, specifically,
an identification: Berkeley and others have actually failed
to see that (1) and (2) are distinct. The conflation of (2)
with (3) -which I shall treat in the second part of the
paper-has not usually taken the extreme form of an iden-
tifying of the two doctrines with one another. Occasion-
ally, (3) is described as a "version" of (2), but a more
From the American Philosophicctl Quarterly, Vol. 2 (1965).
Reprinted, with minor corrections, by permission of the author
and the American Philosophical Quarterly.
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 87
common mistake is the milder one of treating (3) as being
integrally connected with (2) in a way in which it is not.
In respect to both parts of the paper, I have been greatly
helped by criticism from Peter Bell and Ian Hacking.
My interest in these conflations is philosophical rather
than exegetical. If distinct false theories-such as (1) and
(2) -are identified with one another, it will be harder to
see why they are false and where the truth lies. Further-
more, I shall argue that there is something true and im-
portant which Locke, in his doctrine (3), was struggling
to say about primary and secondary qualities. Yet his ges-
tures in the right direction have not been followed up as
tlley deserved; and it seems that post-Lockean philoso-
phers' neglect of the primary/secondary distinction has
been due to their thinking that what Locke says about the
distinction is an integral part, or one formulation, of a
single monolithic doctrine of which (1) and (2) are
also essential ingredients. This has tarred the primary/
secondary distinction with the same brush as some things
which have rightly been rejected, and so something im-
portant has been overlooked.
Through all the Berkeleian commentaries which iden-
tify (1) with (2), and wrongly connect (2) with (3),
there is inevitably an appreciable haze of vagueness and
failure of grasp. This does especial harm by nourishing the
assumption that the study of philosophe.rs like Locke and
Berkeley is only a marginally useful activity which may be
adequately conducted with the mind in neutral. In fact,
it can be one of the most rewarding and demanding of
philosophical exercises.

PART I

1. The Substance Doctrine

The account of property·instantiation which I call
"Lockean," meaning that Locke said a good deal about it,
is a view about the logic of subject-predicate statements.
What concepts-or, as Locke would put it, what ideas-
88 Jonathan Bennett
are involved in the subject of the statement that The pen
in my hand is expensive? Certainly, the concepts of being
a pen, and of being in my hand; but these are not enough,
for the statement speaks of a thing which is a pen and is in
my hand. What thing is this? I may answer that it is the
purple thing which I now see before me; but when I say
that the purple thing I now see is a pen and is in my hand,
I speak of a thing which is purple, etc., and so my intro-
duction of "purple" and "seen by me" still fails to capture
the whole concept of the subject in the original statement.
Even if I produce some non-trivial truth of the form "The
• . . is purple, is seen by me, and is a pen in my hand,"
this can be only a delaying action. Sooner or later, I must
admit that this kind of expansion is bound to omit an
essential element from the concept of the pen in my hand.
What is missing is the concept of a thing which . . . :
this is an ingredient in the concept of a thing which is F
for each value of F, and is therefore not identical with the
concept of a thing which is F for any value of F. This
omnipresent constituent of any subject-concept is the con-
cept of a property-bearer, or of a possible subject of predi-
cation. Let us call it the concept of a substance. It appears
then that if any subject-predicate-or any existential-
statements are true, there must be two basic sorts of item:
(a) substances, and (b) qualities or properties. It is the
special privilege of substances that they can bear or have
or support qualities, and cannot in the same way be borne
by anything else. We commit ourselves to the existence of
"substances" in this sense every time we affirm of some
property that it is instantiated by something or other: for
a property to be instantiated is for there to be some sub-
stance which has or bears it.
I offer the foregoing paragraph as a rational reconstruc-
tion of one strand in the substantialism which Locke dis-
cusses in Essay II, XXIII, 1-4. In § 2. he says: "The idea
then we have, to which we give the general name sub-
stance, being nothing but the supposed but unknown sup-
port of those qualities we find existing, which, we imagine,
cannot subsist sine re substante, without something to sup-
port them, we call that support substantia, which, accord-
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 89
ing to the true import of the word is, in plain English,
standing under, or upholding." It is usual for Locke to say
that we cannot "imagine" how qualities or accidents can
exist unsupported, but the substantialism in question is
certainly based, at least in part, upon logical considera-
tions: some awareness of this is shown by Locke in II, XII,
4 and III, VI, 21, though the latter is not quite consistent.
Leibniz made a good remaIk about the Lockean theory
of property-instantiation: "In distinguishing two things in
[any] substance, the attributes or predicates, and the com-
mon subject of these predicates, it is no wonder that we
can conceive nothing particular in this subject. It must be
so, indeed, since we have already separated from it all the
attributes in which we could conceive any detail" (New
Essays II, XXIII, 2). This suggests, though it did not to
Leibniz, the following argument. Suppose a substantialist
were to say that any given item counts as a substance if
and only if it has a certain property S which is definitive
of substantiality. In that case, his account of what it is
for a property to be instantiated, viz., that P is instantiated
if and only if some substance bears P, would say merely
that P is instantiated if and only if some item is both S
and P. His analysis of a statement about the instantiation
of one property would thus yield, uselessly, a statement
about the joint instantiation of two properties. A defender
of the Lockean doctrine must therefore deny that sub-
stances are items of a certain kind: to be of a kind is to
have the properties which define the kind, and the Lockean
doctrine cannot allow that there are properties which sub-
stances must have in order to count as substances. But the
claim that substances are items of a certain kind is the
Lockean account of property-instantiation. The whole
point and interest of the account lies in its claim that every
subject-concept includes the concept of a certain kind of
item whose special right and duty it is to bear properties.
The Lockean account must, therefore, be wrong. Its cru-
cial error is the move from "There is a concept of a thing
which . . . , which enters into every subject-concept" to
"There is a kind of item about which nothing can be said
except that items of that kind bear properties." There are
90 Jonathan Bennett
many kinds of things, ,but things do not fonn a kind. There
is, perhaps, a "concept of a subject in general," but it is to
be elucidated in tenns of the way in which more special
concepts function in certain kinds of statement, and is not
to be regarded as a concept which picks out a class of items.

2. The Veil-of-Perception Doctrine

Locke certainly did make a mistake about the distinc-
tion between what appears to be the case and what is
really, or objectively, the case. His view is that the differ-
ence between seeing a tree, say, and being in a visual state
as of seeing a tree though there is no tree to be seen, is the
difference between having a sensory "idea" while in the
presence of a real thing which is like the idea, and having
such an idea while in the presence of no such thing. Some-
times' he speaks only of a "correspondence," "agreement,"
or "confonnity" between the sensory idea and the thing;
and he also thinks that there is a causal relation between
the two; but he speaks too of a "likeness," and of ideas as
"copies" of real things. This exposed him to a damaging
attack from Berkeley who said that "An idea can be like
nothing but an idea," and that no sense attaches to the
question whether human sensory states are infonnative of
a real, objective world which is like them. This talk about
ideas as like real things is associated with, and strongly
reinforces, Locke's mistaken handling of the question
"Might it not be the case that there ace no real things at
all outside my mind? Can I be sure that the whole course
of my experience is not just a dream?" Locke tries re-
peatedly to lay these sceptical doubts: see IV, II, 14; IV,
4-5; and XI, 2-10. His arguments to this end are unsatis-
factory, consisting as they do of ad hominem teasing of the
sceptic and covert appeals to empirical evidence. Even
opponents of phenomenalism would now hesitate, I think,
to follow Locke in his calm assumption that the question
"Might it not be that there is no real ext~a-mental world?"
requires an answer but stands in no need of criticism.
Locke criticizes the moral character of the questioner, but
his picture of the real world as represented by sensory
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 91
states which "copy" it precludes his criticizing the ques-
tion. This aspect of Locke's thought may be summed up
in the remark that Locke puts the real world on the other
side of the veil of perception, which explains my phrase
"veil-of-perception doctrine." The word "doctrine" is mis-
leading, though. Locke's treatment of the appearance/
reality distinction is not prominent in the Essay: it ap-
pears mainly as a by-product of the mishandling of a cer-
tain sceptical question, and it has little of the weight or
the deliberateness which go with a properly doctrinal sta-
tus. That the veil-of-perception doctrine is usually credited
to Locke as a doctrine-which he was consciously con-
cerned to expound and defend-is due mainly to certain
blunders which it is my present purpose to correct.

3. The Two Doctrines in Berkeley

The two philosophical views which I have sketched are
distinct: one addresses itself to the question "What con-
cepts do we use when we say Something is Fr' while the
other tackles the question "\Vhat is the difference between
saying that It is as though I were seeing a tree and saying
that I see a tree?,' Although these are as different as chalk
from cheese, they have been confidently identified with
one another by Berkeley and by many other philosophers.
Before explaining why Berkeley makes this remarkable
mistake, I shall show that he makes it and in what ways.
Sometimes he does not make it at all, but treats one of
the two Lockean doctrines in isolation from the other. In
Principles § 49 he discusses the logical doctrine of sub-
stance without bringing in the veil-of-perception doctrine:
"In this proposition, A die is hard, extended and square,
they will have it that the word die denotes a subject or
substance, distinct from the hardness, extension, and fig-
ure which are predicated of it, and in which they exist.
111is I cannot comprehend: to me a die seems to be noth-
ing distinct from those things which are termed its modes
or accidents. And to say a die is hard, extended, and square
is not to attribute those qualities to a subject distinct from
and supporting them, but only an explication of the mean-
92 Jonathan Bennett
ing of the word die." And in §§ 18-20, 86-88 there is a
good part of the case against the veil-of-perception view,
with no admixture of polemic against substance.
Nearly always, though, Berkeley welds the two doctrines
together to form a single view about "material substance."
Berkeley uses "matter" and its cognates to refer to Locke's
purported "real things" which lie behind the· veil of per-
ception. (He also associates "matter" with Locke's views
about primary qualities, but that raises issues which I shall
discuss in Part II of this paper.) The word "substance,"
on the other hand, is especially associated with the Lock-
ean account of property-instantiation. The phrase "ma-
terial substance," then, which Berkeley uses lavishly and
which hardly occurs in Locke, ensures that any discussion
of one of the two doctrines has a good chance of becoming
mixed up with a discussion of the other. Sometimes the
mixture is fairly innocent: in Principles § 68, for example,
Berkeley makes some shrewd remarks about substratum-
substance, and, although he uses the word "matter" for
what he is attacking, the attack itself is not seriously in-
fected with anything which is appropriate to the veil-of-
perception doctrine rather than the substance doctrine.
Often enough, however, the mixture is lethal. In Prin-
ciples, § 16 Berkeley makes a point about substance, and
not only refers to it as "matter" but also invokes "ex-
tension," which has nothing in particular to do with
substratum-substance but does have to do with primary
qualities and also with Locke's real world beyond the veil
of perception: "It is said extension is a mode or accident
of matter, and that matter is the substratum that supports
it. Now I desire you that you would explain what is meant
by matter's supporting extension. . . ."
Again, in § 17 Berkeley tries to locate the enemy: "1£
we inquire into what the most accurate philosophers de-
clare themselves to mean by material substance, we shall
find they acknowledge they have no other meaning an-
nexed to those sounds but the idea of being in general,
together with the relative notion of its supporting acci-
dents." This is a fair enough report of what Locke says not
about "material substance" but about "substance." Berke-
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 93
ley adds that he does not understand the proferred account
of the "meaning annexed to these sounds," and continues:
"But why should we trouble ourselves any further in dis-
cussing this material substratum or support of figure and
motion and other sensible qualities? Does it not suppose
they have an existence without the mind? And is not this a
direct repugnancy and altogether inconceivable?" He then
launches off from "existence without the mind," etc., into
an attack on the veil-of-perception doctrine! In this pas-
sage, a complaint against a wrong analysis of subject-
concepts is jumbled together with a complaint against
Locke's insufficiently idealist analysis of reality.
In § 37: "If the word substance be taken in the vulgar
sense, for a combination of sensible qualities, such as ex·
tension, solidity, weight and the like: this we cannot be
accused of taking away. But if it be taken in a philosophic
sense, for the support of accidents or qualities without the
mind; then indeed I acknowledge that we take it away, if
one may be said to take away that which never had any
existence, not even in the imagination." This might be
taken to mean "Of course there are things which have
properties, but in saying this we do not employ a concept
of naked thinghood"; or it might be taken to mean "Of
course there are real objects, but that statement can be
analyzed purely in terms of mental states." There is no
basis for preferring either interpretation.
In § 74: "But though it be allowed by the materialists
themselves that matter was thought of only for the sake of
supporting accidents. • . ."
Finally, in § 76: "If you stick to the notion of an nn·
thinking substance, or support of extension, motion and
other sensible qualities, then to me it is most evidently
impossible there should be any such thing. Since it is a
plain repugnancy that those qualities should exist in or be
supported by an unperceiving substance."
These are some of the clearer expressions of the conaa-
tion; but the Principles and Three Dialogues contain many
others which would suit my purpose even better If they
did not also involve the further tangling of the two views
so far discussed with Locke's view about primary qualities.
D*
94 Jonathan Bennett

4. Why Berkeley Identified the Two Doctrines

This is not just a simple-minded blunder on Berke-
ley's part. His identification of the two Lockean doctrines
flows naturally from his underlying assumption that the
word "idea" can be used univocally to cover something in
the nature of sensory states and something in the nature
of concepts or meanings of words. This assumption enables
Berkeley to use "ideas of things" in such a way as to iden-
tify qualities of things with sensory states which we have
when we perceive things. An idea of white for example
is a certain kind of visual field; but it is also what I must
be able to have in my mind if I am to understand the
word "white," i.e., it is the meaning of the word "white,"
i.e., it is the property or quality of whiteness.
Some recent writers, sensing Wittgensteinian insights in
Berkeley's theory of meaning, have denied that he takes
"idea" in one of the two ways I have indicated. This, in my
view, is a serious misreading of what Berkeley explicitly
says about meaning and understanding; and it rides rough-
shod over the many passages in which he handles specific
questions 'cIbout meanings solely in terms of the possibility
of bringing appropriate ideas into one's mind.
Since Berkeley uses "idea" in these two ways, it is natu-
ral that he should fail to distinguish the two Lockean doc-
trines; for each doctrine purports to offer an anchor for
free-floating "ideas," one relating sensory states to the ob-
jectively real, and the other relating qualities to the things
which have them. Furthermore, Berkeley can say of each
Lockean doctrine that it over-populates the world: one by
postulating "real things" which are logically dissociated
from ideas (= sensory states), and the other by postulating
"substances" which are something over and above collec-
tions of ideas (= qualities). The rather Berkeleian sen-
tence "Things are just collections of ideas, not something
over and above them" can be interpreted, taking ideas as
qualities, as denying the Lockean account of property-
instantiation; or, taking ideas as sensory states, as denying
the veil-of-perception doctrine.
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 95
This diagnosis of the conflation is strongly confinned in
Principles § 78: "Qualities . . . are nothing else but sen-
sations or ideas, which exist only in a mind perceiving
them." Note also Principles § 9: "By matter therefore we
are to understand an inert, senseless substance in which
extension, figure, motion, do actually subsist, but it is evi-
dent from what we have already shown, that extension,
figure and motion are only ideas existing in the mind, and
that an idea can be like nothing but another idea, and that
consequently neither they nor their archetypes can exist
in an unperceiving substance."
Special note should be taken of the phrase "sensible
qualities," in which Berkeley often embodies his double
use of "idea." For example in § 38: "But, say you, it sounds
very harsh to say we eat and drink ideas, and are clothed
with ideas. I acknowledge it does so, the word idea not be-
ing used in common discourse to signify the several com-
binations of sensible quaiities which are called things . .•
But . . . the hardness or softness, the colour, taste,
warmth and such like qualities which combined together
constitute the several sorts of victuals and apparel, have
been shown to exist only in the mind that perceives them;
and this is all that is meant by calling them ideas. "

5. The Two Doctrines in Locke

The source of Berkeley's identification of the two doc-
trines is his double use of "idea"; but this he shares with
Locke. Yet Locke does not run the substance doctrine to-
gether with the veil-of-perception doctrine: the two are
distinct in Locke, as well as in fact. Since their non-
distinctness does more or less follow from a premiss which
Locke accepts-namely that "idea of x" can without am-
biguity mean both "quality of x" and "appearance of x"-
it must be conceded that Locke keeps the two doctrines
apart only by betraying his basic premisses. This picture
of Locke, as saying something true which he is committed
to denying, is con finned bYf;ertain details in the relevant
parts of the Essay. These parts are not extensive. Con-
trary to the impression given by Berkeley, Locke does not
96 Jonathan Bennett
have much to say about the substance which supports
properties, or about the real world beyond the veil of per-
ception: in the one case because he regards it as embar-
rassing and trivial and perhaps as just wrong, and in the
other because he does not see that it involves an impor-
tant mistake on a difficult philosophical problem. How-
ever, Locke's few discussions of substratum-substance and
of related matters show that, although he has no intention
of identifying the substance doctrine with the veil-of-
perception doctrine, he cannot help expounding the fonner
in words which would also be appropriate to the latter. In
Locke's handling of the two doctrines, they drift together
of their own accord.
( 1) In the opening sections of Essay II, XXIII, Locke
speaks of substance as something which we invoke when
we become aware of "a certain number of simple ideas
which go constantly together," or as something which is
supposed to uphold "such combinations of simple ideas as
are by experience and the observation of men's senses
taken notice of to exist together." These expressions have
to do with the instantiation of properties only if "idea" is
taken to mean something like "property." But then, it
seems, Locke is here raising not the general question
"What is it for a property to be instantiated?" but the
much more special question "What is it for a number of
properties which go constantly together to be jointly in-
stantiated?" This shift is bewildering; but it becomes in-
telligible if we remember that "ideas" may also be sensory
states. For if we take "idea" to mean "sensory state," the
phrases "ideas which go constantly together" and "com-
binations of simple ideas [which] exist together" may be
taken to refer to certain kinds of dependable order in our
experience. On that interpretation, the passages in ques-
tion do not concern a queerly restricted version of the
substratum-substance doctrine but rather concern the
problems about objectivity or "reality" which are the prov-
ince of the veil-of-perception doctrine. Locke makes no
attempt to exploit these ambiguous phrases in order
overtly to connect substance with what lies behind the
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 97
veil-of-perception; but the basis for such a connection is
there in the words he uses.
(2) In II, xxm, 1, Locke says that when we note a
number of sensory ideas going together, "not imagining
how these simple ideas can subsist by themselves, we ac-
custom ourselves to suppose some substratum wherein
they do subsist and from which they do result; which,
therefore, we call substance." Here again, substances are
supposed to uphold "ideas"; and ideas must again be
properties if the passage is to concern the substance doc-
trine at all. But, so construed, the passage says that sub-
stances are supposed to cause their own properties, and it
is not clear why Locke should have thought that anyone
believes that. Our puzzlement is removed if we remember
that ideas can also be sensory states; for, on that reading
of "from which [ideas] do result," it echoes that part of
the veil-of-perception doctrine which says that real things
cause our sensory states. As in the previous case, Locke
here declines to cash in on this unhappy verbal overlap be-
tween the two doctrines in order explicitly to identify
them with one another. On the contrary, in the very next
section he tries to drag "ideas" apart from "qualities," and
thus to free the substance doctrine of any talk about
causal relations by asserting that substances support qual-
ities and that qualities cause sensory states: "If anyone
will examine himself concerning his notion of pure sub-
stance in general, he will find he has no other idea of it at
all, but only a supposition of he knows not what support
of such qualities which are capable of producing simple
ideas in us." If Locke had held firmly and consistently to
that presentation of the maUer, nearly every page of the
Essay would have required revision. In fact, though, he is
no more explicit or deliberate in his attempt to separate
the two doctrines, and the two uses of "idea," than he is
in allowing them to nm together. Where Berkeley con-
fidently identifies the two doctrines, Locke sometimes
nearly identifies them and sometimes implicitly resists this
identification; but the consequent tensions in his writing
are not those of a man who has consciously located a
problem.
98 Jonathan Bennett
( 3 ) In II, XII, 4-6, Locke first distinguishes between
"ideas of modes" and "ideas of substances." He clearly in-
tends this to correspond to a distinction between adjectives
and nouns, or between what may be said of a thing and
things of which something may be said. This purely logi-
cal interpretation of the mode/substance' distinction re-
appears at intervals throughout the Essay, for example in
II, XIII, 19: "They who first ran into the notion of acci-
dents, as a sort of real beings that needed something to
inhere in, were forced to find out the word substance to
support them," a remark which contains no hint of a re-
striction to substances of the special kind which Locke
calls "real things." In the preceding section, too, Locke
shows his awareness that the substance doctrine is sup-
posed to account for property-instantiation generally, when
he asks demurely whether God, finite minds, and bodies
are all supposed to be "substances" in the same or different
senses of the word. Yet even in his first introduction of
"ideas of substances" and of the allegedly associated "sup-
posed, or confused, idea of substance, such as it is," there
is a dangerous reference to "distinct particular things sub-
sisting by themselves." This last phrase could be taken to
mean "things which exist independently of any percipi-
ent," an interpretation which would connect "ideas of sub-
stances" with the veil-of-perception doctrine. Perhaps in
that passage Locke is not taking "subsisting by themselves"
in that way; but he certainly does so later. In II, XXX, 4,
he says, in effect, that in constructing complex ideas of
modes we are subject only to the laws of logic: "There is
nothing more required to those kinds of ideas to make
them real, but that they be so framed, that there be a pos-
sibility of existing conformable to them." In the next sec-
tion, however, he says that ideas of substances are subject
to a more stringent requirement: "Our complex ideas of
substances being made, all of them, in reference to things
existing without us, and intended to be representations of
substances as they really are, are no farther real than as
they are such combinations of simple ideas as are really
united and co-exist in things without us." This is a mis-
take: the propriety of a general noun no more depends
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 99
upon its having instances than does the propriety of an
adiective. My point, however, is that in making this mis-
take Locke very explicitly connects "ideas of substances"
with questions about appearance and reality, and thus lays
the foundation for connecting the latter with the doctrine
of substratum-substance. I say only that he "lays the foun-
dation" for this, because in this passage which so explicitly
connects ideas of substances with "things without us"
there is, interestingly, no mention at all of the idea of
substance.
On this evidence, I think we may say that Locke did
not wish to identify the two doctrines but was under pres-
sure from his own presuppositions to do so. Had he
thought to identify them he would, I think, have been
deterred by the obvious absurdity of identifying the real
world which may resemble our sensory ideas with the
substratum-substances which may bear or uphold proper-
ties but which are in themselves unqualitied. This mani-
fest contradiction appears in most accounts of Locke-for
example in those of Berkeley and Warnock-but I have
yet to find a commentator who notices this feature of what
is generally taken to be locke's position.

6. Why Others Have Identified the Two Doctrines

So much for Berkeley and Locke; but what of those
philosophers who have collapsed the substance doctrine
into the veil-of-perception doctrine without having the ex-
cuse of an underlying mistake about the use of "idea"?
What-one cannot help asking-do they think is happening
in Berkeley's pages when they read the passages in which
two or even three totally distinct questions are discussed
at once? If they read Berkeley attentively and critically,
how do they think that his use of "material substance,"
etc., connects with Locke or with the truth? I cannot fully
explain this propensity for taking Berkeley's problems at
his own valuation of them; but the following hypothesis
suggests how someone might come to accept the conBation
without resting it directly on the double use of "idea."
100 Jonathan Bennett
One considers the distinction between appearance and
reality and illustrates it by a situation in which one can
say "It seems to me that 1 see something square, but is
there really something square which I see?" One then
puts this in the form: "I am in the presence of a manifes-
tation, in my visual field, of squareness; but am 1 in the
presence of something which is square?" The question
whether what appears to be the case is really the case is
thus quietly transmuted into the question whether a cer-
tain property has a possessor. One notes also that each
question might-mistakenly but plausibly-be analyzed in
terms of an elusive "something we know not what," and
this further encourages one to believe that they are two
versions of a single question of which Locke gave a single
wrong analysis.
The train of thought indicated in my hypothesis is in-
valid. The question "Given that 1 seem to see something
square, is there really something square which I see?"
does not raise the question about property-instantiation
which the Lockean doctrine of substance is supposed to
elucidate. This is proved by a simple destructive dilemma.
(a) If we allow that my visual field contains a part
which is square, then that part is the "thing which" is
square, i.e., it bears the property of squareness with which
I am confronted. It is a mistake to think that the Lockean
concept of substance must be so handled that only physi-
calor public or extra-mental objects are cases of substance-
plus-properties. The whole point of the doctrine, as is of-
ten remarked even by those who perpetrate Berkeley's
confiation, is that it separates the substance from all its
properties and insists that for a property to be instantiated
is for it to be borne by an item of which nothing can be
said except that it bears that property. So: if some part of
my visual field is sqlUlTe, then I am not in the presence of
a property for which I am seeking a bearer, for the prop-
erty in whose presence I am already has a bearer.
(b) If, more sensibly, we deny that anything in my vis-
ual field is itself square, and say only that my visual field
is similar to ones which I often have when I see something
square, then my agnosticism about whether I see a square
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 101

thing is agnosticism about whether I am in the presence

of a manifestation of squareness at all. My question "Is
the world at this point really as it appears to be?" is there-
fore not of the form "Is there a bearer for this property?"
So: if no part of my visual field is square, then I am not in
the presence of a property for which I am seeking a bearer,
for I am not, in the required sense, "in the presence of a
property" at all.

7. Some Examples
Here is one passage where Berkeley makes the shift I
have described from "Does something real correspond to
this sensory state?" to "Does something have this prop-
erty?"
It is worth while to reflect a little on the motives
which induced men to suppose the existence of ma-
terial substance. . . . First, therefore, it was thought
that colour, figure, motion, and the rest of the sensi-
ble qualities or accidents, did really exist without the
mind; and for this reason it seemed needful to
suppose some unthinking substratum or substance
wherein they did exist, since they could not be con-
ceived to exist by themselves . . . . (Principles § 73.)
O'Connor sees that there is a doctrine about substance
of a purely logical kind. But he brings it in as an after-
thought; dismisses it as an impossible interpretation of
"the substratum theory," for no reason I can imagine ex-
cept that he has taken Berkeley as his source for Locke;
and shows, by his use of "something" in the first sentence,
that he has not seen how distinct the two doctrines are:
It is certainly not logically necessary, or even true,
that colours, for instance, cannot occur except as
properties of a coloured something. If I stare at a
light for a few seconds and then tum my gaze away, I
shall see an "after-image" in the form of a coloured
patch which certainly does not inhere in any sub-
stance. The supporter of the substratum theory of
substance has either to claim (i) that the after-image
102 Jonathan Bennett
is itself a substance or (ii) that it inheres in my vis-
ual field. (i) is a reductio ad absurdum of tIle sub-
stratum theory, though a sense datum would qualify
as a substance in the logical ~ense of the word: it has
properties without being itself a property of any-
thing..••1
With satisfying explicitness, Morris presents Berke-
ley's semi-phenomenalism as contradicting something said
"largely on the credit of Aristotle's logic":
Berkeley has little difficulty in showing that the con-
ception of material substance was in the philosophy
of Locke no more than an uncriticized survival. Phi-
losophers had always taken it for granted, largely on
the credit of Aristotle's logic, that qualities must
be supported by some underlying permanent self-
subsistent substance. . . . Berkeley [argues against
this] that throughout our whole experience of the
physical world we never apprehend anything but sen-
sible qualities and collections of sensible qualities. All
we know of things or can know of them is what we
perccive by sense; if there were more in things than
this, we could not know it. This at once becomes
clear, he says, if we consider what is meant by the
term "exists".•.. "There was an odour, that is, it
was smelled; there was a sound, that is to say, it was
heard; a colour or figure, and it was perceived by sight
or touch. This is all that I can understand by these
and the like expressions." This doctrine is evidently
based on the argument that whenever we are aware of
a physical object, introspective analysis shows that
there is nothing present in our mind but a number or
collection of simple ideas of qualities; and it is taken
by Berkeley to prove that knowledge simply consists
in the awareness of sensible qualities. 2
Warnock mixes the substance doctrine with the veil-of-
perception doctrine by sliding smoothly from "matter" to
"the essential 'support' of qualities":
1 D. J. O'Connor, John Locke (London, Penguin Books,
1952.), pp. 80-81.
2 C. R. Morris, Locke, Berkeley, Hurne (Oxford, The Claren-
don Press, 1931), pp. 74-75. '
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 103

We must seek to ,clarify Berkeley's disagreement with

Locke about "matter" or "material substance." The
central point of Berkeley's argument is that the ex-
pression "material substance" is meaningless, an
empty noise. Locke, who held that our ideas are of
qualities, had of course admitted that we do not "per-
ceive" substance, that it is indeed "something we
know not what"; but he thought that we must none
the less accept this something, as being the essential
"support" of qualities.s
On pp. 95-96 of his book Warnock tells us that accord-
ing to Locke "there is a world of physical ('external') ob-
jects" which within certain limits "actually have the quali-
ties which OUI ideas inclrne us to assign to them." Then
on p. 109: "Locke had asserted the existence of 'matter',
'material substance', a something of which nothing could
be either said or known." Does this introduce a second
Lockean doctrine? Warnock seems not to think so. Is he
then pointing out a flat inconsistency in a single Lockean
doctrine? Apparently not: like Berkeley before him, War-
nock presents as Locke's "doctrine" something which is
flatly and obviously inconsistent, yet does not call atten-
tion to this inconsistency because, one presumes, he has
not noticed it. The double metaphor with which Warnock
places the Lockean duplicate world "somehow behind or
beneath" the world of experience reflects nicely his uncer-
tainty as to just what view he wishes to attribute to Locke.
Examples can be found in nearly every extended dis-
cussion of Locke or Berkeley-in Fraser, Stephen, Huxley,
Alexander, Hicks, Luce, Broad, Russell, Randall, Cople-
ston-but not only in them. Ayer uses the phrase "sensible
properties" in high Berkeleian fashion to effect a slide
from "the thing itself as opposed to anything which may
be said about it" to "the thing itself [as opposed to] its
appearances" :
It happens to be the case that we cannot, in our lan-
guage, refer to the sensible properties of a thing with-
out introducing a word or phrase which appears to
3 C. J. Warnock, Berkeley (London, Penguin Books, 1953),
p. 1°3·
104 Jonathan Bennett
stand for the thing itself as opposed to anything
which may be said about it. And, as a result of this,
those who are infected with the primitive supersti-
tion that to every name a single real entity must cor-
respond assume that it is necessary to distinguish logi-
cally between tlle thing itself and any, or all, of its
sensible properties. And so they employ the term
"substance" to refer to the thing itself. But from the
fact that we happen to employ a single word to refer
to a thing, and make that word the grammatical sub-
ject of the sentences in which we refer to the sensible
appearances of the thing, it does not by any means
follow that the thing itself is a "simple entity," or that
it cannot be defined in terms of the totality of its ap-
pearances. It is true that in talking of "its" appear-
ances we appear to distinguish the thing from the ap-
pearances, but that is simply an accident of linguistic
usage. Logical analysis shows that what makes these
"appearances" the "appearances of' the same thing is
not their relationship to an entity other than them-
selves, but their relationship to one another.'

PART II

Locke distinguishes between "primary" and "second-

ary" qualities. A thing's primary qualities are its shape,
size, spatial location, velocity, and degree of hardness; its
secondary qualities are its color, temperature, smell, taste,
and sound. Locke's attempt in Essay II, VIII, 9, to give a
general definition of this distinction is unsuccessful, but
for present purposes the above lists suffice.
According to Locke, the secondary qualities of things are
not "of" or "in" them in the same full-blooded sense as
are their primary qualities. To say of something that it "is
purple," for example, is to employ a natural and permis-
sible farfon de parler; while to say of something that it "is
spherical" may be to state a plain fact in a way which re-
quires neither gloss nor apology. I shall try to show that
'A. J. Ayer, Language, Truth and Logic (London, Victor
Gollancz, 1946). p. 42..
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 105

something true and interesting is misexpressed by this

Lockean thesis, and that Berkeley's conflation of it with
Locke's veil-of-perception doctrine reflects Berkeley's total
failure to see what Locke was getting at in his discussion
of primary and secondary qualities.

1. The Phenol Argument

Phenol-thio-urea tastes intensely bitter to 75 per cent of
humans; to the rest it is tasteless. With a 25 per cent
block of "non-tasters," we cannot say outright that the
stuff is bitter: it tastes bitter to more people than not, but
there is no such thing as "the" taste of it. If the non-
tasters comprised only .001 per cent of all humans, then
we could describe phenol-thio-urea as bitter without quali-
fication: perhaps lemons are tasteless to .001 per cent of
humans, but lemons are sour for all that. Suppose a world
where phenol-thio-urea is unqualifiedly bitter, i.e., tastes
so to almost everyone. Suppose further that a dynasty of
world dictators begins intensive breeding of non-tasters
and gradually allows the tasters to die out. This is good
genetics: some of the tasters' offspring will be non-tasters,
while the mating of two non-tasters can produce only non-
tasting progeny. After a few dozen generations, phenol-
thio-urea is tasteless to everyone living, so that there are
as good grounds for calling phenol-thio-urea tasteless as
for calling water tasteless.
This describes a course of events in which something
(a) is bitter at one time, (b) is tasteless at a later time,
and (c) does not itself change in the interim. This, on the
face of it, is a contradiction; and we can resolve it only by
saying that the stuff's bitterness is not one of "its proper-
ties" in the full-blooded sense in which a thing's losing
one of its properties is its changing.
Similar arguments could be developed for the taste of
any given kind of stuff, and also for colors, sounds, and
smells. A simple genetic control would not always be avail-
able; but mass microsurgery might bring it about that no
human could see any difference in color between grass and
blood, and to do this would be to bring it about that grass
106 Jonathan Bennett
was the same color as· blood. Similarly for other pairs of
colors, and for tastes, sounds, and smells.
This is not one of those epistemological blockbusters
which begins "Suppose that, as is logically possible, we
were to wake up one morning and find that for some mys-
terious reason we were all . . . etc." The kind of story
which I am telling is one in which, after the modification
of the human frame has taken place, everyone knows just
what has happened and how. Furthermore, the stories are
more than just logically possible: we know how we could
realize the tale about phenol-thio-urea, and the discovery
of a surgical technique or a genetic control for any other
discrimination which we make in respect of colors, tastes,
sounds, or smells is scientifically well on the cards.
We may still call things green or sour or stinking or
noisy, but philosophers should bear in mind the essentially
relative nature of these adjectives and their like: "similar
in color" means "looking similar in color to nearly every-
one under normal conditions," and a careful metaphysic
will take note of that fact.
The foregoing paragraphs contain what I shall for short
call "the phenol argument." Before relating it to Locke
and Berkeley, I should say at once that the argument is
not valid. It depends upon the epitome which says that
phenol-thio-urea is bitter at one time, tasteless at a later
time, and yet does not itself change in the interim. The
italicized clause is false: in the original story phenol-thio-
urea does undergo a change, namely a, change in respect
of its taste. Admittedly it does not change its chemical
structure, but to infer from this that it does not change at
all is simply to beg the question in favor of primary quali-
ties. The story snows that a thing may change in respect of
its secondary qualities without changing its primary quali-
ties; but this is not a contrast between primary and second-
ary qualities, for it is also true that a thing's primary quali-
ties may change without any change in its secondary
qualities. A fluid may have its primary qualities changed
by the addition of a reagent, without changing in color,
taste, or smell; and a knob of plasticine may be squashed
flat.
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 107

It is natural to protest that that does not show the argu-

ment to be invalid, because squashing a piece of plasticine
is doing something to it in a way in which the selective
breeding of humans is not doing something to phenol-thio-
urea. The phenol-thio-urea in the story, one might say,
does not change in itself. I shall try below to show what
justice there is in these responses: to see the force of such
phrases as "does not change in itself' is to see what the
truth is about primary and secondary qualities.

2. Locke and Berkeley on Secondary Qualities

The phenol argument is mine, not Locke's: he does not
suggest that a secondary quality of something might be
altered by a species-wide physiological change. His dis-
cussions of primary and secondary qualities in II, VIII,
9-26; XXIII, 1l; and IV, III, 1l-13, 28-29 strongly suggest,
however, that Locke would welcome the phenol argument
as making his kind of point for his kind of reason. His
own detailed arguments are more obviously unsatisfactory
than the phenol argument; and yet even they give to some
readers the impression that there is something true here
which Locke is mishandling. I shall try to show that this
impression is correct; but first let us see what Locke's
arguments are, and what Berkeley does with them.
( 1) Locke thinks that those of OUI sensory states which
enable us to make secondary-quality discriminations be-
tween things can be explained in terms of the things' pri-
mary qualities: seen colors, for example, can be explained
in terms of surface-textures, the impact upon our eyes of
particles of light, and so on. But he stresses (II, VIII,
11-13; IV, III, 12-13,28-29) that these explanations de-
pend upon brute-fact, non-necessary, God-ordained corre-
lations between our secondary-quality sensory states and
the primary qualities which underlie and explain them.
He seems to think-though he is reticent about this-that
our seeings and feelings of the primary qualities of things
have a necessary connection with the primary qualities
themselves; perhaps because in that case there is supposed
to be not only an explanatory or causal relationship but
108 Jonat1zan Bennett
also a resemblance (II, VIII, 15). Berkeley dismisses the
talk about resemblances between ideas and bodies (Prin-
ciples § 9); and argues that in any case there is only brute
fact observed regularity in any of the connections ordi-
narily taken to be causal (§ § 25, 30-31). I assume that
Berkeley is right on both these points, and that if Locke
has got hold of a truth about primary and secondary quali-
ties it must be sought elsewhere.
(2) In II, VIII, 20, Locke says: "Pound an almond, and
the clear white colour will be altered into a dirty one, and
the sweet taste into an oily one. What real alteration can
the beating of the pestle make in any body, but an altera-
tion of the texture of it?" Berkeley does not, I think, ad-
dress himself directly to this; but he would have said that
the beating of the .pestle cannot make, or cause, any al-
teration whatsoever. His reasons for this lie outside my
present scope, but this argument of Locke's is itself im-
portant, as I shall show. We may notice right away that
the argument begs the question: Locke invites us to say
that because the pestle can cause only primary-quality
changes in the almond, the second-quality changes must
therefore be primary-quality ones in disguise; but this can
be rebutted by saying that beating something with a pestle
can cause alterations other than primary-quality ones, as
is proved by what happens to the color and taste of an
almond when it is beaten with a pestle.
(3) In II, VIII, 21, Locke points out that the same wa-
ter may at once feel warm to one hand and cool to the
other, which "figure never does, that never producing the
idea of a square by one hand which has produced the idea
of a globe by the other." Berkeley concedes the point
about the warm/cool water phenomenon, but claims that
it has primary-quality analogues, as can be discovered "by
looking with one eye bare, and with the otller through a
microscope." (First Dialogue, p. 153 in David M. Arm-
strong [ed.], Berkeley's Philosophical Writings.)
(4) In II, XXIII, 11, Locke says that to the naked eye
blood looks "all red," but through a good microscope it is
seen as "some few globules of red swimming in a pellucid
liquor; and how these red globules would appear, if glasses
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 109

could be found that could yet magnify them 1,000 or

10,000 times more, is uncertain." Again, Berkeley agrees
(First Dialogue, pp. 148-49) but says that analogous con-
siderations apply to size, which is a primary quality (pp.
152-53).
(5) In II, VIII, 16-18, Locke says that no reason can
be given for saying that the heat is "actually in the fire"
which would not also be a reason for saying that the pain
is actually in the fire; yet it is clearly wrong to say the lat-
ter. Berkeley agrees with this cordially (First Dialogue,
pp. 141-44). but takes it that here again there is no dif-
ference between primary and secondary qualities.
In each of ( 3 ) , ( 4 ), and (5) Locke says something
about s~condary qualities whicll he thinks will show that
they sit looser to the world than is usually thought; and in
each case Berkeley kidnaps Locke's remark and uses it to
prise primary qualities off the world as well. Yet Locke is
wrong in that part of each claim which Berkeley accepts.
In (3), it does not follow-and should not even seem to
follow-from the fact that we may err about temperatUl".S
that therefore things do not really have temperatures. In
(4), the microscopic appearance of blood serves Locke's
purpose only if it is possible that through a powerful
enough microscope we should see the minute parts of
blood as entirely colorless; and that is impossible since, for
purposes of this argument, "colorless" must mean "invis-
ible." in (5), it is not true that any grounds we could give
for assigning temperatures to things would also be grounds
for assigning pains to them.
Berkeley's view is not merely that ~hat Locke says
about secondary qualities is false unless it is so construed
as to hold also for primary qualities, and that therefore
Locke has failed to drive a wedge between the two sorts of
quality. Berkeley genuinely agrees that things do not really
have secondary qualities. and dissents only by saying that
this is also true of primary qualities.
The explanation of this is as follows. Berkeley thinks
that in agreeing with what Locke unclearly says about
secondary qualities he is agreeing that a phenomenalist
or idealist analysis ought to be given of statements about
110 Jonathan Bennett
the secondary qualities of things, i.e., that talk about
things' colors and smells and sounds, etc., is to be under-
stood as shorthand for talk about certain sorts of sensory
states. It is this thesis which he believes to hold also for
talk about the primary qualities of things; .it is the the-
sis which Berkeley offers as a rival to Locke's veil-of-
perception account of the distinction between appearance
and reality. Berkeley, in short, takes Locke's thesis about
secondary qualities to be a qualification of his veil-of-
perception doctrine. The latter says that there are facts
about nonmental reality which are logically unconnected
with facts about sensory states; and. Berkeley takes the
secondary-qualities doctrine to be an important rider to
the effect that the genuinely extramental facts about re-
ality are those which involve primary qualities only and
do not include those which involve secondary qualities.
This account of what Berkeley is about explains the
passages to which I have called attention as well as many
more like them; and it is strongly confirmed by Principles
§ 14-15. If I am right about this, then Berkeley has com-
pletely misunderstood the kind of thing which Locke was
trying to say; but I cannot justify this last claim without
first saying what I think to be the truth about primary and
secondary qualities. Only in the light of what is true about
primary and secondary qualities can we understand what
Locke wanted to say about them.

3. Color Blindness and Size "Blindness"

Locke calls attention to the ways in which our percep-
tion of secondary qualities may vary according to the bodily
condition of the percipient and according to the state of
the percipient's environment. Berkeley rightly says that
such variations also infect our perception of primary quali-
ties but wrongly implies that the two sorts of quality are
on a level in this respect. To see that they are not on a
level, and why,' is to grasp the truth after which Locke is
fumbling.
I shall contrast two kinds of sensory aberration: in one,
someone sees two things as being of the same color when
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 111

in fact they are not, and in the other someone sees and
feels two things as being of the same size when in fact they
are not.
Suppose, then, that someone who is confronted by a
red thing and a white thing convinces us that he sees them
as having exactly the same color. He may believe us when
we tell him that the things do have different colors; and
if they differ in no other way we can, without asking him
to trust us, prove to him that there is some difference be-
tween the two things which we see and he does not. Also,
we may show him-or he may discover for himself-:-that
the two objects differ in respect of the wave lengths of the
light they reflect, and that wave lengths usually correlate
with seen colors. But if he ignores other people's talk
about the two objects, and ignores esoteric facts of optics,
he may never discover that his seeing of the two objects as
having the same color arises from a sensory defect in him.
A failure of secondary-quality discrimination, in one who
is otherwise sensorily normal, can-and sometimes does-
persist unsuspected through any variations in distance or
angle of view, light-conditions, mouth-washing, cold-
curing, and so on.
Contrast this with the case of a size-"blind" man who,
going by what he sees and feels, judges a certain drinking
mug to have the same size as a certain cup, although in
fact the former is both higher and wider than the latter.
In such a case, we can place the cup inside the mug; or fill
the mug with water, and then fill the cup from the mug
and pour the remaining water on the ground; or place both
vessels on a horizontal surface and draw the size-"blind"
man's hand across the top of the cup until it is stopped
by the side of the mug; and so on. What are we to· sup-
pose happens when our size-"blind" man is confronted by
these manipulations of the cup and the mug? There are
just two relevant possibilities. (a ) We may suppose that
the size-"blind" man has a normal apprehension of what
happens when we manipulate the cup and the mug, and
therefore quite soon realizes that his original judgment
about their sizes must have been mistaken. (b) We may
suppose that in each case there is some supplementary
112 Jonathan Bennett
inadequacy in his perception of what is done to the cup
and the mug, or of the outcome of what is done, so that
what he sees and feels still fits in smoothly with his origi-
Dal judgment that the two vessels are of the same size.
To adopt supposition (a) is just to admit that this case
is radically different from that of color blindness. If the
point of the latter were just that there are or could be aber-
rations in our perception of secondary qualities, then we
could say the same of primary qualities; and we could add
that it is absurd to deny that a certain kind of quality
really is a quality of the things in the world, just because
we do or might sometimes fail to discern it. What gives
relevance and bite to color blindness, and to abnormality
of secondary-quality perception generally, is the fact that
any such abnormality can persist, not just for a few mo-
ments or under special conditions, without the victim's
being given any clue to his abnormality by his other, nor-
mal sensory responses. The manipulations of the cup and
the mug could be performed not by us but by the size-
"blind" man himself: they involve ordinary commerce
with familiar middle-sized objects, and are in a very differ-
ent case from the color-blind man's attention to wave
lengths or to other people's classifications of things by
their colors.
If we want an analogy between size-"blindness" and
color blindness, then, we must adopt supposition (b) .
But look at what this involves: the size-"blind" man must
be unable to see or feel that the cup is inside the mug, or
unable to see or feel that the mug has not momentarily
stretched or the cup contracted; he must be unable to see
or feel that the cup has been filled from the mug, or un-
able to see or feel that there is water left in the mug after
the cup has been filled; he must be unable to see or feel
that his hand is touching the cup as it moves across the
top of it, or unable to see or feel his hand being stopped
by the side of the mug. It will not do merely to suppose
that as the manipulations are performed he sees and feels
nothing. To preserve the analogy with color blindness we
must suppose that what he sees and feels gives him no
reason for suspecting that there is something wrong with
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 113
him; and so his visual and tactual states through all the
manipulations of the cup and the mug must present no
challenge to his belief that he is handling an ordinary pair
of drinking vessels which are of the same size. This is bad
enough, but there is worse to follow. If the size-"blind"
man is to be unable to see or feel the water which remains
in the mug after the cup has been filled from it, this will
require yet further sensory aberrations on his part: if the
water is poured over a lighted candle, or used to dissolve
a lump of sugar, or thrown in the size-"blind" man's face,
his perception of any of these events must also be appro-
priately abnormal if his original judgment is to remain
unchallenged. Similarly with any of the other sensory ab-
errations with which we must prop up the initial one:
each requires further props which demand yet others in
their tum, and so on indefinitely.
The desired analogy with color blindness has collapsed
yet again. In the case of color blindness, the sensory ab-
normality was not clued by the victim's other sensory re-
sponses although these were normal; but to keep the
size-"blind" man in ignorance of his own initial sensory ab-
normality we have had to surround it with ever-widening
circles of further abnormalities.
Strictly speaking, it is not quite correct to say that the
single failure of color-discrimination could well remain un-
clued by the victim's other, normal sensory responses. For
if he detects no difference in color between RI which is
red and WI which is white, what are we to suppose that
he makes of the color of a second red thing, R 2, in rela-
tion to the color of WI? If his only sensory aberration is
to concern the comparison of RI with Wl> then we must
suppose that he sees no difference of color between R2
and R 1, and no difference of color between RI and W b
and yet sees a lmge difference of color between R2 and
WI. This is clearly unacceptable, and so we are in trouble
here unless we suppose our man to be unable to see color
differences between red things and white things generally.
This, however, does not restore the analogy between color
blindness and size "blindness." For the infectious spread
of sensory aberrations around the single initial failure of
114 Jonathan Bennett
size-discrimination does not involve merely other failures
to discriminate sizes. The original aberration can re-
main unclued only if it is backed by failures of shape-
discrimination, movement-detection, sensitivity to heat,
and so on. The single red/white failure spreads to red/
white fanures generally, but need spread no further; but
the failure to discriminate sizes spreads endlessly into all
the victim's perceptions of his environment.
As well as losing our analogy, we are also losing our grip
on the initial datum of the size "blindness" case, namely
that we can agree with the size-"blind" man about the
identity of a certain cup and mug, disagreeing with him
only about their relative sizes. For it has turned out that
there are countless visible and tangible aspects of our en-
vironment in regard to which the size-"blind" man does
not agree with us, so that it is now by no means clear that
we can still assume that we share with him a sensory
awareness of a single objective world.

4. The Crucial Contrasts

The foregoing discussion of color blindness and size
"blindness" illustrates two crucial and closely related con-
trasts between primary and secondary qualities.
( 1) There are countless familiar, exoteric, general facts
about the connections between a thing's primary qualities
and its ways of interacting with other things: a rigid thing
cannot be enclosed within a smaller rigid thing; a thing
cannot block another thing's fall to the earth without
touching it; a cube cannot roll smoothly on a flat surface;
a thing's imprint on soft wax matches the outline of the
thing itself; and so on, indefinitely. The analogue of this
does not hold for secondary qualities. Admittedly, there
are connections between a thing's color, say, and its ways
of behaving in relation to other things: in general, a brown
apple will be more squashable than a green one; a blue
flame will boil a pint of water faster than a yellow flame
of the same size; a thing's color will correlate with the
wave lengths of the light it reHects: and so on. But neither
for colors nor for any other secondary qualities can we
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 115
make, as we can for primary qualities, an enormously long
list of obvious, familiar, inescapable connections of the
relevant kind.
( 2) Just because of the numerousness and familiarity
of the connections between the primary qualities of things
and their ways of interacting with one another, no clear
sense attaches to the suggestion that something might
persistently fail to obey these general connections. If a
thing's purported size is belied by enough of its ways of
interacting with other things, there is no point in saying
that it does have that size. As against this, there would be
a point in saying that a thing was red even if this were
belied by the wave lengths of the light reflected from its
surface, or by its flavor, hardness, chemical composition,
etc. If in sunlight a given thing were indistinguishable in
color from other things which were agreed to be red, then
this fact could sensibly enough be reported in the words
"That thing is red," even if we had to add one or more
riders such as ". . . though its light-reflecting properties
are atypical for red," or " . . . though its taste is atypical
for red wine," or ". . . though its temperature is atypical
for red iron." There is in fact a tight correlation between
wave lengths of reflected light and the colors seen by most
people in sunlight, and we therefore do not have to decide
either for or against defining color-words in terms of how
things look and treating the associated wave lengths as
mere empirical correlates of colors. If the need for a de-
cision did arise, however, we could choose to give our color
terminology a purely visual basis and still have it doing
pretty much the work which it does for us now. Analogous
remarks apply also to all other secondary qualities. Not
so, however, for primary qualities. As the discussion of
size "blindness" showed, the interrelations between things
in respect of their primary qualities are numerous and
various and tightly interlocked. There seems to be little
chance of inventing a partial breakdown of them such that
those which survive the breakdown could form a basis for
a working vocabulary of primary qualities. So far as I can
see, the only kind of breakdown over which we could hope
to keep control would be one involving the collapse of all
116 Jonathan Bennett
but one of the normal correlates of some primary quality.
For example, we might suppose a world in which things
had reasonably reliable "sizes" if "the size of x" is defined
solely in terms of the visual field presented by x when it is
stationary and at some stated distance from the observer,
and in which none of the other actual correlates of size
continued to hold. This supposition does not, however,
really provide us with a minimal sense of "size" analogous
to the purely visual sense of "color"; for the supposition
has cut away so much of what normally attends upon "size"
that it almost certainly leaves no basis for a language of
physical objects. It offers us a minimal sense of "size" while
robbing us of everything which could have a size.
We can now see why the phenol argument is plausible,
and why it really does show something about secondary
qualities as against primary. We know what it would be
like to be aware that the taste of phenol-thio-urea had
been altered by means of a change of the human frame.
But what could ever entitle us to say "Oranges, which used
to be spherical, are now cubic; but this change has been
brought about solely by a change in humans"? The diffi-
culty here is not merely our ignorance of appropriate sur-
gical or eugenic techniques, nor the scientific implausibil-
ity of suggesting that such techniques might be discovered:
if the obstacles were only of that sort, then it would be
historically impossible that the point brought out by the
phenol argument should be one of which Locke was dimly
aware. The trouble we meet in trying to reproduce a
primary-quality analogue of the phenol argument is that
we must either (a) allow the analogy to fail by supposing
only that erstwhile spheres "look cubic" in some very re-
stricted sense, e.g., in the sense of presenting visual fields
like those now presented by sugar cubes when seen at rest
(while in all other ways looking and feeling spherical); or
(b) allow the analogy to fail by telling an astronomically
complicated story in which not only the shapes of erst-
while spheres but also thousands of other aspects of the
world were perceived differently; or (c) insulate shape
from its present correlates by means of some radical con-
ceptual revision which has no analogue in the phenol argu-
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 117
ment and which no one can see how to perform anyway.
Of these alternatives, (a) and (b) do not produce the
desired analogy, and perhaps (c) does not either; while
(b) and (c) involve conceptual and empirical complica-
tions which we have no idea how to handle.
This difference between primary and secondary qualities
is closely connected with the fact that the former alone
involve the sense of touch. How they involve it, and what
this has to do with the contrast I have drawn, are matters
which I cannot go into here.

5. The Relevance of This to Locke

Locke says nothing about color blindness: it seems not
to have been generally recognized in his day. Yet I main-
tain that the contrast I have drawn between primary and
secondary qualities, and which I have approached through
a discussion of sensory abnormalities, is one which Locke
saw dimly and was struggling to express and defend. My
grounds for this contention are the following.
( 1) The points which I have made could without ab-
surdity be summed up in the Lockean remark that it is
true of secondary qualities, in a way in which it is not of
primary, that they are "merely" the powers which things
have to affect us in certain ways.
(2) Locke was aware that primary qualities are al1logi-
cally connected with solidity and extension, and these he
regarded as definitive of "body" (II, IV, 1-2). Further-
more, he thought that the essentialness d "solid" and "ex-
tended" to "body" was connected with the different ways
in which primary and secondary qualities are qualities "of'
bodies, though he seems to have misunderstood the nature
of the connection (II, VIII, 9). My discussion indicates
that Locke is right about the definition of "body," and
right in his assumption that this is a deep conceptual fact
which is not on a par with the dictionary definition of
"brother" as "male sibling."
( 3) Part of Locke's thesis about primary and secondary
qualities is that if we knew enough we could give causal
explanations, purely in primary-quality terms, for all our
E
118 T07Ulthan Bennett
secondary-quality discriminations. Over the possibility of a
purely primary-quality science, LOcke had an 'optimism
which was not at all justified by the state of physiology in
the seventeenth century: note his calm assumption that
of course the pestle's effect on the almond must be de-
scribable purely in primary-quality terms. My discussion of
primary qualities shows why someone in Locke's position
should so confidently assume that the final, perfect science
will require only a primary-quality vocabulary.
(4) Several of Locke's examples share with the phenol
example an emphasis upon the notion of a thing's chang-
ing in respect of a secondary quality without changing in
itself. When Locke said that porphyry in the dark has no
color, he erred; but he seems clearly to have had in mind
the fact that our main basis-he would have said our only
basis-for attributing colors to things is such that our
color-reports can vary without any change in the things
themselves. My discussion shows why this is plausible and
how far it is true.

6. Berkeley's Blunder
I submit, then, that I have presented a truth about pri-
mary and secondary qualities and that it is this after which
Locke was groping. Now, the point which I have brought
out has nothing to do with the veil-of-perception doctrine:
it is not a version of that doctrine, or a qualification of or
a rival to it. It operates on a different level altogether.
One can state and explain what is interesting in the dis-
tinction between primary and secondary qualities-whether
or not one goes so far as to say that secondary qualities
are not "of" tllings as primary qualities are-only on the
basis of normal assumptions about our entitlement to trust
the evidence of our senses. What I have calJed Locke's
"veil-of-perception doctrine" is really just his mishandling
of a certain sceptical question, and the latter makes sense
only if it asks whether the objective world is, really, in any
1N)' at all as it appears to be. An affirmative answer must
be given to this question before one can present the con-
trast between primarY and secondary qualities.
Substance, Reality, and PrimClTY Qualities 119
To be fair, I must concede that the thesis about pn-
mary and secondary qualities can be taken as a qualifica-
tion of the veil-of-perception doctrine in the following
extremely minimal way. The veil-of-perception doctrine
says that statements about objects are logically dissociated
from statements about states of mind, and the primary/
secondary thesis can be seen as conceding that this logical
dissociation does not hold for statements attributing sec-
ondary qualities to objects but only for those attributing
primary qualities to them. I think that it is because the
relation between the two doctrines can be viewed like this
that they are so often conflated; and it is therefore impor-
tant to see what is wrong with this way of looking at the
matter.
Considered as a qualification of the veil-of-perception
doctrine, i.e., as a concession that not all statements about
objects are logically dissociated from statements about
states of mind, the primary/secondary thesis is just a bore.
Even the most fervent super-Lockean would agree that
some predicates of objects are connected with mental
predicates; for example, that we commit ourselves to some-
thing about states of mind when we say that castor oil is
nasty, that warm baths are soothing, that hair shirts are
uncorpfortable, or that the New York subway system is
confusing. If Locke's thesis about secondary qualities were
important only as a concession that some predicates of
objects are logically connected with mental predicates, it
would be without any importance at all since it would be
"conceding" what no one has ever denied. What makes it
interesting is not its saying (a) "Some predicates of ob-
jects have some logical connections with mental predi-
cates," but rather its saying (b) "Secondary-qua~ity predi-
cates of objects have these logical connections with mental
predicates." Now (b) does not offer any useful support
to the view that there are logical connections between
all predicates of objects and mental predicates: the Lock-
ean view of the status of secondary qualities is no more a
stage on the way to complete idealism or phenomenalism
than is the Nazi valuation of Aryans a stage on the way to
a belief in the worth and dignity of all men. In each case,
120 lonathan Bennett
the further step may consistently be taken; but in neither
case is the taking of it just a further development of the
line of thought by which the first stage was reached.
Just as the Lockean thesis about secondary· qualities is
not a significant restriction on the veil-of-perception doc-
trine, so the Lockean thesis about primary qualities is not
-or need not be-a somewhat restricted version of the
veil-of-perception doctrine. If to (a) "Some predicates of
objects have some logical connections with mental predi-
cates" we add the rider "but primary-quality predicates
don't," then the result is indeed all of a piece with the
veil-of-perception doctrine, and is thus in opposition to
idealism or phenomenalism. But if to (b) "Secondary-
quality predicates of objects have these logical connections
with mental predicates" we add the rider "but primary
qualities don't," the result says only that primary-quality
predicates are not connected with mental pred.icates in the
way in which secondary-quality predicates are. This pre-
sents no challenge at all to Berkeley or to any phenomenal-
ist who knows what he is about: I have defended it my-
self, through my discussion of size "blindness," without
conceding a thing to the veil-of-perception doctrine.
This difference of level between the two theses is fairly
clear in Locke's own pages. In his battles with the sceptic,
Locke does invoke empirical facts which are not legiti-
mately available to him; but he does this covertly, and
knows that he ought not to do it at all. As against this, his
discussions of the primary/secondary contrast are riddled
with open appeals to experimental evidence. (This is per-
fectly proper: a satisfactory treatment of the primary/
secondary distinction must begin with empirical facts;
though it ought, as Locke's does not, to connect these with
the relevant conceptual points.) Locke notes this explicitly
in II, VIII, 22: "I have, in what just goes before, been en-
gaged in physical inquiries a little farther than perhaps I
intended . . . I hope I shall be pardoned this little excur-
sion into natural philosophy, it being necessary, in our
present inquiry, to distinguish the primary and real quali-
ties of bodies, which are always in them . . . etc." Again,
in IV, DI, 28, he denies that any "correspondence or con-
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 121

nexion" can be found between our ideas of secondary

qualities "and those primary qualities which (experience
shows us) produce them in us." In the context of the
battle against the sceptic, these references to "physical in-
quiries" and to what "experience shows us" would be
merely grotesque. Still less do we find Locke mixing
up the primary/secondary thesis with the question of
substratum-substance. In his principal exposition of the
former, II, vnI, 9-26, the word "substance" does not occur.
As with the other confiation, so here there are some in-
vitations to error, and thus some excuses for Berkeley, in
Locke's pages. In particular, he says that our ideas of sec-
ondary qualities do not, while those of primary qualities
do, resemble things themselves; and resemblance is also
invoked in connection with the veil-of-perception doctrine.
But the most that this shows is that Locke was unclear
about the relation between the two theses: it could not
show that they are-or even that Locke consciously thought
them to be-related as Berkeley thinks they are.
(My attention was drawn by one of the referees for
this Quarterly, and by Professor H. H. Price, to the rele-
vance here of Locke's theory about real essences. A thing's
"real essence" is that microphysical primary-quality consti-
tution of it which, according to Locke, is the causal basis
for all its large-scale observable qualities, primary and
secondary. Locke says that we know very little about real
essences: "Though the familiar use of things about us
takes off our wonder, yet it cures not our ignorance. \Vhen
we come to examine the stones we tread on, or the iron we
daily handle, we presently find that we know not their
make; and can give no reason of the different qualities we
find in them. . . . What is that texture of parts, that real
essence, that makes lead and antimony fusible; lind wood
and stones not? What makes lead and iron malleable;
antimony and stones not?" (III, VI, 9). What makes this
important for Locke is just that since we do not in fact
know much about real essences these cannot be the basis
which we do now use for our classifications of physical
things, and so the way is open for Locke to urge the candi-
dacy of "nominal essences" as our actual basis for classi-
12.2. Jonathan Bennett
fication. But he sometimes (as in III, Ill, 17) gives the
impression that he regards real essences as necessarily be-
yond the reach of our knowledge, and thus suggests that
they have a "something we know not what" or a "be-
yond the veil" kind of status which smacks of both the
substratum-substance and the veil-of-perception doctrines.
I am sure that Locke did not hold as a considered opinion
this strong view about the unknowability of real essences;
but he undoubtedly does sometimes seem to hold it; and it
is likely that Berkeley and others have in this way, as well
as in the ways I have already discussed, been tempted to
conflate the primary/secondary doctrine (of which the
theory of real essences is an integral part) with one or
both of the other two doctrines. This is the more probable
since-as Professor Price has pointed out to me-the whole
issue between Locke and Berkeley could be seen as a dis-
pute between a proponent and an enemy of the micro-
physical approach to physical science. I find this last sug-
gestion extremely iIIuminating-it captures Locke's picture
of science as the minute dissection of large-scale objects,
and Berkeley's picture of science as the intelligent com-
parison of large-scale objects with one another-but to fol-
low it up here would take me too far afield.)
I conclude, then, that some things worth saying about
the primary/secondary distinction are pointed to by
Locke's discussion of it, and have no clear logical connec-
tion with the philosophical problem about the distinction
between what appears to be the case and what is really the
case.
It is for his insights into the latter problem that Berke-
ley is chiefly valued: he is rightly seen as a precursor of
phenomenalism, and even those who hold no brief for
phenomenalism agree that Berkeley taught us much about
what goes wrong when the distinction between appear-
ance and reality is divorced, as it is by Locke, from any-
thing cashable in experience. But if we are to understand
what is happening in Berkeley's pages, we must see
through his appalling conflation of the question about the
appearance/reality distinction with both the question
about substance and that about the primary/secondary
Substance, Reality, and Primary Qualities 123

distinction. Consider for example the following passage

from Principles § 9:
• . . they will have our ideas of the primary qualities
to be patterns or images of things which exist without
the mind, in an unthinking substance they call mat-
ter. By matter, therefore, we are to understand an
inert, senseless substance, in which extension, figure,
motion and so forth do actually subsist, but it is evi-
dent from what we have already shown that exten-
sion, figure and motion are only ideas existing in the
mind, and that an idea can be like nothing but an-
other idea, and that consequently neither they nor
their archetypes can exist in an unperceiving sub-
stance. Hence it is plain, that the very notion of what
is called matter, or corporeal substance, involves a
contradiction in it.
How can such a farrago as this be understood-how could
anyone spell out in plain terms what it is that is being op-
posed here-except on the basis of an elaborate exposure
of the two conflations7 Many passages in Principles and
Three Dialogues are similarly unintelligible until the two
conflations have been understood and rejected; and Berke-
ley's writings are full of tensions which can be resolved
only on that same basis. For example, according to the
primary/secondary doctrine, things do have primary quali-
ties in a way in which they do not have secondary; accord-
ing to the veil-of-perception doctrine things may really
have none of the properties we attribute to them; and of
course substratum-substances cannot have, qua substances,
any properties at all. And so, although "by matter, there-
fore, we are to understand an inert, senseless substance,
in which extension, figure, motion and so forth do actually
subsist," Principles § 47 tells us that "the matter philoso-
phers contend for is an incomprehensible somewhat, which
hath none of those particular qualities whereby the bodies
falling under our senses are distinguished one from an-
other." In these two passages taken together, Berkeley is
not nailing down an inconsistency in Locke; he is indulg-
ing in an inconsistency which arises from his misunder-
standing of Locke's problems.
124 Jonathan Bennett
The literature does not yield the same rich harvest of
thorough, glad commission of this conflation as it does for
the one discussed in the first part of my paper. Most com-
mentators merely take Berkeley's word for it that the
veil-of-perception doctrine is integrally connected with the
thesis about primary and secondary qualities, and lurch
somehow across the gap where the connection is supposed
to be. In somewhat the same way, they accept but do not
intelligently argue for Berkeley's demonstrably false claim
that Locke's theory of abstract ideas is connected with the
three-headed monster which Berkeley calls Locke's doc-
trine of material substance.
It is a disaster that the British empiricists, and Berke-
ley in particular, have received such cursory attention in
recent years. There is so much in them that is boldly and
energetically wrong that they can be enormously instruc-
tive as object lessons, if in no other way, to anyone who
will attend closely to their thought. The wretched course
of English epistemology over the past half-century illus-
trates, depressingly, the dictum that those who do not
study history are in danger of reliving it.
 LOCKE'S VERSION OF THE DOCTRINE
OF REPRESENTATIVE PERCEPTION
REGINALD JACKSON

This is an attempt to carry out a programme to which I

seem in the course of my article on "Locke's Distinction
between Primary and Secondary Qualities" (reprinted in
this volume, pp. 53-77 above) to have committed myself.
The aim of that article was to challenge, on the ground
that it conflicted with Locke's definitions of his terms, the
tradition, established by Berkeley, which interprets the
distinction as one between two groups of sense-data,
namely, sensible qualities of bodies and sensible ideas
which are mistaken, by the unsophisticated consciousness,
for qualities of bodies, but which do not really exist inde-
pendently of the sensing of them. An alternative interpre-
tation was advocated, according to which Locke recognises
Primary Qualities, Secondary Qualities, and Ideas of Sen-
sation (including both Ideas of Primary Qualities and
Ideas of Secondary Qualities) as three distinct groups of
entities. By Primary Qualities Locke was said to mean
qualities in the strict sense, contrasted with relations in
belonging to a body in itself at least momentarily, and it
was held that no Primary Qualities are sensible. By Sec-
ondary Qualities Locke was said to mean, not a kind of
qualities, but a kind of relations, namely powers of bodies,
dependent on their determinate Primary Qualities, to pro-
duce Ideas of Sensation in the mind of a percipient whose
body is suitably situated. Ideas of Sensation were said to
be the only sense-data, all of them numerically distinct
from qualities of bodies. Accordingly, no difference was
From Mind, Vol. XXXIX (1930). Reprinted by permission
of Mind.
126 Reginald Jackson
admitted between the ontological status of Ideas of Pri·
mary Qualities and the ontological status of Ideas of Sec-
ondary Qualities. On the contrary, it was claimed that of
all Ideas of Sensation, if of any, Locke shares Berkeley's
opinion that their esse is percipU That this interpreta-
tion modified Locke's definitions of his terms in some
important particulars was admitted; but an attempt was
made to vindicate such modification as seemed inescap-
able, by reference to Locke's habitual use of the terms
and to the exigencies which might have led him, in spite
of the way in which he used them, to define them as he
did. 2
1 See below, p. 146, note.
2 The article was not concerned with the history of either the
terms or the distinction itself. As I find, however, that I have
stated that Boyle "was really the author not only of the terms
but also of the distinction itself", I take this opportunity of say-
ing that, though the terms, Primary and Secondary Qualities, had
been previously used, they had not been previously-to judge by
the citations of Hamilton and Baeumker-used in this sense. It
must also be admitted that, though the distinction itself was not
that said to have been drawll by Democritus, between what in
Locke's terminology would be "primary qualities of insensible
parts" and "ideas of secondary qualities," the peculiar feature of
Locke's distinction was anticipated by Aristotle's distinction be-
tween Tra9TlTIKal TrOIOTT]TEC; and miST], which corresponds to
Locke's distinction between "secondary qualities" and "ideas of
secondary qualities" (Hamilton's Reid, pp. 826-827), while
Locke's distinction between "ideas of primary qualities" and
"ideas of secondary qualities" appears to correspond to Aristotle's
distinction between cxlaST]TO: KOIVO: Kal i~ilcx (ibid., pp. 828-830).
That Locke's Secondary Qualities are not sense-data but pow-
ers, was noticed by Hamilton (p. 839b) and recently by Baeum-
ker in his article "Zur Vorgeschichte zweier Lockescher Begriffe"
(Archiv fUr Geschichte der Philosophie, 1907-08). Baeumker
seems, however, to have thought that Boyle did not anticipate
Locke on this point. The Secondary Qualities are, he says, "bei
Locke nicht, wie bei Boyle, die 'Ideen,' d.h. die Sinnesinhalte
selbst; vielmehr versteht er darunter die realen Krafte in den
Dingen, welche jene Ideen bewirken, ihnen aber unahnlich sind"
(p. 515, cf· pp. 507, 510). Erdmann, while citing Baeumker,
seems not to have himself distinguished between Secondary Qual-
ities and sense-data (Berkeleys Philosophie im Lichte seines wis·
senschaftlichen Tagebuchs, p. 44). Cook Wilson, in his "Letter
in criticism of a paper on Primary and Secondary Qualities,"
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 127

But the article claimed further that Locke's distinction

between Primary and Secondary Qualities, if interpreted
in accordance with the Berkeleian tradition, is awkwardly
related to his distinction between Qualities and Ideas, not
only being rendered redundant, as a distinction between
physical reality and sensible appearance, by the distinction
between Qualities and Ideas, but also, in view of the
different standpoint from which the distinction between
physical reality and sensible appearance is drawn, being
incompatible with the distinction between Qualities and
Ideas. This claim assumed that Locke's distinction he-
tween Qualities and Ideas was an embodiment of the
doctrine of Representative Perception. Now this assump-
tion is not beyond controversy. If a commentator inter-
prets Locke's distinction between Primary and Secondary
Qualities in such a way as to imply that Locke did not
hold the doctrine of Representative Perception, he may
be prepared to acknowledge and defend this implication.
July, 1904 (in Statement and Inference, vol. ii., pp. 764-800),
also notices (p. 764) that "the secondary qualities, which are
qualities of the external object, are strictly speaking not the sen-
sations . . . but the powers in the object to produce the sensa-
tions".
The criticism of Berkeley's argument that the primary quali-
ties "are inseparably united with the other sensible qualities" (p.
72 of this volume) is confused, owing to my having first di-
rected it against the argument, erroneously ascribed to Berkeley,
that the primary qualities are inseparably united with the Second-
ary Qualities, and having at the last moment corrected the quo-
tation without observing that the correction rendered the criticism
inapplicable. It is, however, true that Berkeley uses "sensible
quality" as a term covering both what he calls primary and what
he calls secondary qualities, and he would have been prepared to
accept, as an equivalent contention, Bradley's claim that "with-
out secondary quality extension is not conceivable" (Appear-
ance and Reality, p. 16).
On p. 54 the view that Locke thought primary qualities were
sensible, is wrongly ascribed to Reid, as well as to Berkeley, in-
stead of only to Berkeley. Reid, so far as I know, never treats
Locke as other than a thorough-going Representationist, and his
inteIJ?retation of Locke's distinction between Primary and Second-
ary !dualities is at variance with that of the article only in his
failure to distinguish between "secondary qualities" and "ideas
of secondary qualities".
128 Reginald Jackson
Campbell Fraser did explicitly defend it in the face of the
contrary interpretation of Hamilton, and his view has not
been, so far as I know, subjected to criticism. For, although
both Dr. Alexanderi' and Professor Gibson' have ex-
pounded Locke's view of our knowledge of the external
world as a version of the doctrine of Representative Per-
ception, they have neither directly challenged, nor en-
deavoured to refute, the Berkeleian tradition. In fact this
tradition seems easily to be overlooked. For Reid, who
always treated Locke as an exponent of the doctrine of
Representative Perception, and even went so far as to
claim that "all philosophers, from Plato to Mr. Hume,
agree in this, That we do not perceive external objects
immediately, and that the immediate object of perception
must be some image present to the mind",5 not unnatu-
rally supposed that "Berkeley's system follows from Mr.
Locke's, by very obvious consequence"6 and that "a man
who was firmly persuaded of the doctrine universally re-
ceived by philosophers concerning ideas, if he could but
take courage to call in question the existence of a material
world, would easily find unanswerable arguments in that
doctrine".7 But Reid allows his own just view of the rela-
tion between Locke's position and Berkeley's thesis to
blind him to the fact, that Berkeley did not recognise the
full extent of the admission which Locke had made, but
supposed that the view of Locke had first to be modified
by proving that Locke's view of "certain sensible quali-
ties", namely that they "have no existence in matter, or
without the mind", is true "of all other sensible qualities
whatsoever", before it could be made to agree with the
doctrine of Representative Perception.s Since the Berke-
leian ttadition seems not to have been refuted and since
Campbell Fraser revived the view that Primary Qualities
are "called ideas in the mind, at one point of view, phe-
a Locke, in the series "Philosophies, Ancient and Modem".
4Locke's Theory of Knowledge (especially pp. 130, 17'2. et
seq., '2.22 et seq.).
II Hamilton's Reid's Works, 4th ed., p. '2.63a (all refs. to both
Hamilton and Reid, are to this edition).
6P.287(1. 7P.28'2.b. sCf. this volume, p. 72.
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 129
nomena presented by the thing, at another",9 the assump-
tion made in the previous article about the nature of
Locke's distinction between Qualities and Ideas requires
vindication. Its defence involves questions, the discussion
of which would have been disproportionate if presented
as an incident in the course of an investigation of the dis-
tinction between Primary and Secondary Qualities; and so
its defence was not attempted in the previous article.
This omission the present article will try to make good.
The title is polemical, since what has to be attempted is
to prove that Locke's view of our knowledge of the exter-
nal world is a version of the doctrine of Representative
Perception, and not, assuming this, to inquire in what
form Locke held that doctrine.
In the attempt to support this thesis, it will be as-
sumed that there are only two alternatives open to an
interpreter of Locke's view of our knowledge of the ex-
ternal world. These alternative interpretations can be ad-
vantageously viewed as successive stages in a process of
departure from Naif Realism, common sense being sup-
posed to be "naively realistic wherever it does not think
that there is some positive reason why it should cease to
be SO".10 In Locke's terminology Naif Realism would be
expressed by saying that all "simple ideas of sensation",
that are presented "when our senses are actually employed
about any object",ll are qualities of bodies. Now nobody
thinks that Locke held this view, it being generally agreed
that not only philosophy and science, but even common
sense, have reasons for refusing to identify certain "simple
ideas of sensation" with any qualities of bodies. If one who
has advanced so far neither recognises that the remaining
"simple ideas of sensation" are exposed to similar objec-
tions nor perceives any inconsistency in assigning to each
of two groups of "simple ideas of sensation" a different
ontological status, the resultant view will be what may be
called the Mixed View. This, unlike Naif Realism, draws a
distinction between appearance and reality, and the dis-
S Fraser's edition of Locke's Essay, Vol. I., p. 178.
10 Broad, Perception, Physics, and Reality, chap. I.
11 Essay IV., XI .. 11.
130 RegilUlld Jackson
tinction falls between two groups of "simple ideas of sen-
sation". If, however, it is seen either that those "simple
ideas of sensation," which the Mixed View declares to be
qualities of bodies, are exposed to direct attack in the same
way as those which the Mixed View pronounces to be
appearances, or that the withdrawal from physical reality
of the one group involves the withdrawal of the other
group, the resultant view will be the doctrine of Repre-
sentative Perception. This agrees with the Mixed View in
drawing a distinction between appearance and reality, but
the distinction now falls not between two groups of "sim-
ple ideas of sensation" but between all "simple ideas of
sensation" and all qualities of bodies, so that one can
speak of sensible appearance and physical reality as mu-
tually exclusive. It agrees with Naif Realism only in as-
signing to all "simple ideas of sensation" a common on-
tological status. The Mixed View is naively realistic with
respect to some "simple ideas of sensation" and repre-
sentationist with respect to others. It is the Mixed View
which is attributed to Locke by Berkeley and by Campbell
Fraser, and it is the doctrine of Representative Perception
which is attributed to him by Reid and Hamilton and by
Dr. Alexander and Professor Gibson.
On the assumption that these alternatives are exhaus-
tive, it will still appear that, so far from needing no vindi-
cation, the thesis that Locke held the doctrine of Rep-
resentative Perception is probably incapable of being
conclusively proved, and must in any case be stated in
carefully guarded terms. The difficulty is occasioned in
part by the character of Locke's writings and in part by
the peculiar relation between the two views that have been
attributed to him.
For, to take the latter source of difficulty first, what has
to be shown is that Locke accepted the doctrine of Repre-
sentative Perception without any reservation in favo'ur of
Naif Realism, and this has to be shown in the face of the
claim that Locke's view was constituted in part by the
doctrine of Representative Perception and in part by Naif
Realism. Now there is no doubt that Locke not only oc-
casionally, but even habitually, uses the language of Naif
Locke' s Version of Representative Perception 131

Realism, and this admission might be supposed, if coupled

with the claim that Locke sometimes uses the language
of the doctrine of Representative Perception, to be tanta-
mount to the recognition of the rival interpretation.
In order to avoid misunderstanding in this matter, it
will be necessary to distinguish two references in which a
writer may be said to be inconsistent. The charge some-
times means that what is put forward by the writer as a
single view is really made up of conflicting propositions.
In this sense Kant would be said by many commentators
to be inconsistent, in his argument that only objects of
possible experience can be known, on the ground that the
Subjective Deduction of the Categories is an indispensable
part of the argument and that its claims to insight into
the conditions which determine experience are incompat-
ible with what Kant is trying to prove. But sometimes the
charge means that, even if the writer does put forward an
internally consistent view, he at times makes stal.ements
which conflict with one or more of the propositions which
constitute his view. In this sense Kant would be said to be
inconsistent in holding different views of the nature of
Time in the Transcendental .!Esthetic and in the Tran-
scendental Analytic. If this kind of inconsistency is called
inconstancy,12 the term inconsistency may be restricted
to the former kind. Now it is clear that inconstancy may
involve inconsistency. Whether it does so or not depends
on whether the occasions of inconstancy can be revised
without prejudice to the view with which they conflict, and
in the case of Kant's conflicting views about Time com-
mentators disagree in their findings on this question. But
it is also clear that inconstancy does not necessarily in-
volve inconsistency; for the occasions of inconstancy may
-where due to negligence or to the influence of habits
formed before the central view was worked out-be readily
amendable. Now, in terms of this distinction it may be
said that what has to be shown is that Locke was a con-
sistent Representationist, not that he was a constant Rep-
resentationist. He is at times a NaIf Realist and possibly
12 A tenn used by Locke (Essay, IlL, X., 5), to denominate
vacillation in the use of words.
132 Reginald Jackson
also at times he holds the Mixed View, but he does not in
general hold a view which is made' up of tenets selected
from NaIf Realism and from the doctrine of Representa-
tive Perception.
But the admission that Locke is not a constant Repre-
sentationist involves the other source of difficulty, which
is the necessity of deciding which of the admittedly con-
flicting passages are the occasions of inconstancy. This
difficulty is present in some degree whenever a commen-
tator is engaged in interpretation as distinguished from
criticism, in discovering what a writer means as distin-
guished from estimating the truth of his view. For the at-
tempt to reveal what a writer means-unless it is mere
explanation-presupposes that he does not always succeed
in saying what he means, and that it is necessary in order
to discern his 'real meaning' to reject or amend the pas-
sages in which he fails to express it. Now there may be no
difficulty in showing that some passages in a philosophical
work conflict with others, and no inconsequence in claim-
ing that, inasmuch as the writer cannot be supposed to
have intended to contradict himself, some at least of the
conflicting passages do not express his 'real meaning'. But
there remains the difficulty of selecting the passages which
do express it. Moreover, since a writer presumably means
what he says, at least at the moment at which he says it,
it is necessary to vindicate and explain any reference to a
'real meaning'.
This difficulty is met by some commentators, who pro-
ceed on the Hegelian plan of treating all previous philoso-
phies as imperfect expressions of the one true philosophy,
by selecting from the treatise which they are professedly
interpreting whatever passages seem to them most promis-
ing, and setting these down as the embodiment of the
writer's 'real meaning' .13 But, whatever may be the value
13 ct. Caird, Critical Philosophy of Kant (Preface), for the
view that "the only valuable criticism is that which turns what
is latent in the thought of a great writer against what is explicit,
and thereby makes his works a stepping-stone to results which he
did not himself attain" and that "to understand [Kant] . . . is
to detect a consistent stream of tendency which, through all ob-
struction, is steadily moving in one direction; to discern the unity
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 133
of this proceeding, (and its value may be incalculable), it
seems to be something more than interpretation. It seems
clear, for example, that two people may dispute about the
question whether Locke really held the Mixed View or the
doctrine of Representative Perception, and that this ques-
tion is distinct from the question which of the two views
ascnbed to him approximates the closer to the truth.
Perhaps the most satisfactory significance that can be
given to the term 'real meaning' is given by defining it as
the doctrine which a writer would have selected if his at-
tention had been drawn to the conflicting passages.14 In
order to show that such a claim in behalf of any doctrine
is probable, two points must be established. It must be
shown that the passages which the interpreter prefers
really do embody the doctrine; and it must also be shown
that the conflicting passages, although they contradict the
doctrine, can fairly be supposed to have been written, un-
der the influence of certain factors, by one who would have
surrendered them if he had been aware that they were
likely to obscure the doctrine. But, even if these points
can be established and if, as is obviously requisite, there is
no other doctrine for which a similar case can be pre-
sented, the argument could hardly be allowed to prove
that so vacillating a writer as Locke would have submitted
to the proposed interpretative surgery. In view of this un-
certainty it seems best to limit the thesis of this article to
the contention that the doctrine of Representative Percep-
tion is certainly embodied in some passages of the Essay;
that there were strong influences which might be fairly
supposed to have led Locke, especially if he had never con-
templated the Mixed View as a possible alternative to the
doctrine of Representative Perception and so was not ap-
prehensive of misunderstanding, to use the language of
of one mind which, through all changes of form and expression,
is growing towards a more complete consciousness of itself".
Whether or not Kant can be satisfactorily expounded in this way,
it seems necessary, when dealing with a writer in whom one can-
not "detect a consistent stream of tendency which, through all
obstruction, is steadily moving in one direction", to distinguish
between interpretation and criticism.
14 Cf. Hamilton (p. 820) on the interpretation of Reid.
134 Reginald Jackson
Naif Realism on almost all- occasions and especially with
reference to the Ideas of Primary Qualities; and that it is
difficult to understand how Locke could, on the supposi-
tion that he really intended the Mixed View, have come
to write the passages which embody the doctrine of Rep-
resentative Perception. Of these three claims, the last can
hardly be argued until an explanation of the conflict, on
the hypothesis that Locke held the Mixed View, is forth-
coming. The argument will therefore be confined mainly
to the first two claims.
The first of these claims, namely, that the doctrine of
Representative Perception is certainly embodied in some
passages, has to be made out in the face of the fact that
those very passages, which according to this claim can only
be an expression of that doctrine, have been regarded by
Campbell Fraser as an expression of the Mixed View, and
have been admitted by Hamilton to be unhappily worded.
Commenting on Locke's statement that "the ideas of pri-
mary qualities of bodies are resemblances of them, and
their patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves",1!!
Fraser says, "This implies that what we are directly per-
cipient of, i.e. the idea, belongs, in the case of the real or
primary qualities of sensible things, to the things them-
selves, being body itself manifested, so far as a percept
can present what is extended."16 And Hamilton finds it
necessary to "modify the obnoxious language," and main-
tains that Locke's meaning would be better expressed if
we "instead of saying that the ideas or notions of the pri-
mary qualities resemble, merely assert that they truly rep-
resent, their objects, that is, afford us such a knowledge of
their nature as we should have were an immediate intui-
tion of the extended reality in itself competent to man".17
15 II., VIII., 15. 161., p. 173.
11 P. 842<1. Fraser seems to have supposed that in this pas-
sage Hamilton is conceding his view that "Locke treats primary
qualities as 'real', or 'perfectly resembling the real', and virtually
'the same'; but called ideas in the mind, at one point of view,
phenomena presented by the thing, at another" (Essay, I., p.
178). His supposition is apparently due to Hamilton's statement
that, if the "obnoxious language" were modified as he suggests,
"Reid's doctrine and theirs [not "his" as Fraser quotes. Hamilton
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 135
In the hope of showing that Locke's language neither im-
plies what Fraser says nor requires the modification which
Hamilton prescribes, it will be better to consider the
Mixed View and the doctrine of Representative Percep-
tion at first, not in the form in which Locke would have
had to hold them, but in the form which they assume
when stated in terms of the current view that what is
sensed is not a "simple idea" but a complex sensum which,
though not recognised by the act of sensing as possessing
qualities, is recognised as possessing qualities when judg-
ment supervenes upon the act of sensing. Then, when the
formulre appropriate to the doctrine of Representative
Perception have been· examined, the effect, if any, of
Locke's different analysis of the perceptual situation can
be taken into account.
Of the Mixed View and of the difference between it
is referring not to Locke only, but to Descartes and Locke]
would be found in perfect unison". But, while Hamilton regards
both Descartes and Locke as exponents of the doctrine of Rep-
resentative Perception, he thinks that Reid's "intended" doctrine
of rerception, "one of immediate cognition, under the form of
rea presentationism", is obscured by many statements appropriate
to "one of mediate cognition under the form of egoistical repre-
sentationism" (p. 82oa). Accordingly, in saying that "Reid's doc-
trine touching the present distinction [that between Primary and
Secondary Qualities] corresponds, in all essential respects, with
that maintained by" Descartes and Locke (pp. 841-842), he is
suggesting that the agreement consists in the acceptance not of
a "form of real presentationism", but of a "form of egoistical
representationism" which "rejected all representative entities dif-
ferent from the act itself of cognition" (p. 842a). His objection
to Locke's language is not that it implies "representationism"
but that it implies, he thinks, a crude form of "representation-
ism". Hence he says that "the whole difficulty and dispute on
this point is solved by the old distinction of similarity in exist-
ence, and similarity in representation" (p. 842a), which I take
to imply that Locke should have said that the "idea" is similar,
in its character as a representation, to the "quality," but that
"idea" and "quality" are different in existence. Since Locke is
clearly using "idea" to denote a content sensed and not an act of
sensing, his language does not seem to need the modification
which Hamilton proposes. But it may be admitted that Locke
does not face the problem of the ontological status of "ideas of
o~nsation".
136 Reginald Jackson
and the doctrine of Representative Perception, Dr. Broad
has given an account in his chapter on "The Theory of
Sensa" in Scientific Thought. 1s He there contrasts what
he holds to be "involved in the common scientific view of
physical objects and their sensible appearances"19 or
"what the average person with a scientific training be-
lieves"20 with what he calls the "Critical Scientific The-
ory", which is "an attempt to formulate clearly, in terms
of the Sensum Theory of sensible appearance, the view
about the external world which has been at the back of the
scientific mind since the time of Descartes and Locke".21
The aim of each view is "to assert the physical reality of
shapes and sizes, and to deny the physical reality of col-
ours, temperatures, noises, etc.".22 But, while the crude
view maintains that the physically real qualities are sen-
sible and that the surfaces to which they belong are sen-
sible, the more developed view denies that any physically
real qualities are sensible and holds that the physically
real qualities can be determined only by inference from
physically unreal qualities, to which they are causally re-
lated and some of which resemble them. Dr. Broad con-
tends that the Mixed View is inconsistent both with itself
and with the factS.2S It is internally inconsistent because
it by implication both affirms and denies that what we
sense are surfaces of bodies, by affirming that sensible
shape is physically real and yet denying that colour is
physically rea1.24 It is inconsistent with the facts because
the argument, based on variation of sensible qualities
where the object body is supposed to undergo no change,
which has been used to prove the physical unreality of
some sensible qualities, has the same force when stated
with reference to the supposedly physically real sensible
qualities. It is an attempt to combine a naively realistic
view of some sensible qualities with a "causal theory" of
others, and it is necessary "to restate it in a completely
causal form".25
IS Pp. 272- 283. 19 P. 27'-. 20 P. 273.
21 Pp. 281-282. 22 P. 279. 23 Pp. 273-274.
24 This is not quite the same as Broad's argument.
25P. 282.
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 137
When so restated the Mixed View is superseded by the
doctrine of Representative Perception. It will be conven-
ient to fonnulate the doctrine of Representative Percep-
tion in terms of a negative and a positive tenet. The nega-
tive tenet is that no physical reality is sensible. In current
tenninology this may be expressed by saying that no sensa
are parts of bodies, and, on one view of the nature of a
quality, it will follow that no sensible qualities are quali-
ties of bodies. The positive tenet is that there is a physical
reality and that it is represented 26 by sensible appear-
ance. The statement that sensible appearance represents
physical reality does not mean that sensible appearance
resembles physical reality. But the statement can be de-
fended only on the supposition that sensible appearance
does resemble physical reality, since otherwise an exponent
of the doctrine would be unable to give any account of the
nature of physical reality, even to the extent of pronounc-
ing it to be spatial. Nevertheless, all that is meant by say-
ing that sensible appearance represents physical reality is
that the apprehension of sensible appearance serves the
percipient instead of the apprehension of physical reality.
Thus the sensing of colour may lead the percipient to
select appropriate food. The power of the food to produce
a certain effect upon the body of the percipient is, accord-
ing to Locke, conditioned by some of the detenninate
primary qualities of the food; and the secondary quality,
or power to produce sensible colour, is also conditioned by
some of the detenninate primary qualities of the food. If,
instead of sensing the colour, we sensed the detenninate
primary qualities by means of which the food produces the
colour, we should, by associating. these qualities with the
26 What follows has nothing to do with Locke's use of the
word 'represent'. He uses the word 'representation' (Essay, II.,
XXX., 2) as a synonym for 'image'. But we are concerned here
only with the meaning of our claim that Locke accepted the
doctrine of Representative Perception. An attempt was made in
the previous article (this volume pp. 69-70) to show that the
phrase "idea of a quality" could be interpreted to mean 'idea rep-
resenting a quality'. Cook Wilson seems to have thought that
'represent' should mean 'resemble'. (Statement and Inference, vol.
ii., p. 771.)
138 Reginald Jackson
power to produce a certain effect upon our bodies, be able
equally well to select appropriate food. Locke seems some-
times to think that if we could sense the primary qualities,
including the so-called "qualities of the insensible parts",
we should, instead of waiting on experiment, be able to
predict the powers of a body, and so be able to establish
a Science of Physics. But it is in any case clear that the
qualities of the food might be reasonably supposed to be
able to serve the purpose, if these qualities were sensible,
which is in fact served by the physically unreal sensible
qualities. It follows that, without holding that a sensible
quality resembles a physical quality, we can intelligibly
say that it represents, stands for, or serves instead of, a
physical quality. It is nccessary that some such account be
given of the meaning of 'represent', as implied in such
phrases as "idea of a quality", because if 'represent' were
taken to mean 'resemble'-and it seems certain that the
two words do not in general have the same meaning-the
inevitable inquiry into the extent of the resemblance of
sensible appearance to the physical reality which it repre-
sents would be anticipated. And, in fact, on Locke's view,
resemblance by no means necessarily accompanies repre-
sentation. For the statement· that "the ideas of primary
qualities of bodies are resemblances of them"27 means
that the "ideas" which represent the macroscopic primary
qualities resemble those qualities, and this is clearly in-
tended to be a synthetic judgment. And the claim, that
"there is nothing like our ideas [of secondary qualities]
existing in the bodies themselves",28 means that the
"ideas" which represent the microscopic primary qualities
do not resemble those qualities, so that here representa-
tion and resemblance are unquestionably distinct.
Theories which agree in these two tenets may differ in
detail, so that it is appropriate to speak of Locke's view,
according to our thesis, as a version of the doctrine of Rep-
resentative Perception. Thus the Cartesian version differs

I,. I,.
from the Lockian version in its account of the nature of
27 II., VIII., 28 II., VIII.,
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 139
physical reality. But unless what is said to be represented
by sensible appearance is at least spatial it is not properly
described as physical reality. So a theory which maintains,
with Berkeley, that only spiritual substances are repre-
sented by sensible appearance, or, with Hume, that the
nature of what is represented cannot be determined,
should not according to the above formulation be classified
as a version of the doctrine of Representative Percep-
tion.29 Then, again, different views may be taken of the
nature of sensible appearance. It may be held to be either
dependent on, or independent of, the sensing of it, and so
on, provided that it is not identified with physical real-
ity.sO This is important for our purpose, because Locke
does not seem to have made up his mind about the status
of "ideas of sensation," and this article does not try to de-
termine his view, or views, on that question. Lastly, the
extent of the resemblance of sensible appearance to physi-
cal reality may be variously estimated without violation of
the sine quibus non of the doctrine of Representative Per-
ception. For our purpose, it is Locke's acceptance of the
negative tenet that has to be made out; for it is the nega-
tive tenet that distinguishes the doctrine of Representative
Perception from the Mixed View.
A special problem, which is easily seen to confront the
doctrine of Representative Perception thus formulated, is
presented by the tendency of the positive tenet to conflict
with the negative tenet. For the negative tenet requires
that physical reality should be numerically distinct from
sensible appearance, that no physical reality should be any
sensible appearance: but the positive tenet requires that
physical reality should be known though not sensed, and
this claim can be justified only by showing that sensible
29 There is, so far as I know, no reason why the doctrine of
Berkeley should not be called a version of the doctrine of Repre-
sentative Perception, provided that the positive tenet is fomlU-
lated in such a way as to include non-physical realities among the
realities which sensible appearance may be held to represent.
ct.
30 Hamilton (pp. 804-819) for various possible forms of
Representationism in reference to the ontological status of the
representative entities.
140 Reginald Jackson
appearance can be the source of the knowledge of physical
reality. This obligation is twofold. Not only must it be
shown that sensible appearance is evidence for the exist-
ence of a physical reality of such a kind as the version of
the doctrine of Representative Perception describes. It
must also be shown that sensible appearance is the source
of acquaintance with the qualities which are asserted on
that evidence to belong to physical reality. The latter req-
uisite offers a difficulty apart from the question of the
cogency of the evidence, a difficulty which lies in the
reconciliation of the numerical distinctness of physical
reality and sensible appearance with the necessity of de-
scribing physical reality in terms of sensible appearance.
On the one hand, there is a temptation to express the
fact of numerical distinctness by saying that, just because
no physical reality is any sensible appearance, no attribute
of physical reality can be also an attribute of sensible ap-
pearance. On the other hand, the possibility of describ-
ing physical reality in terms of sensible appearance would
be commonly defended by saying, that physical reality and
sensible appearance have certain attributes in common,
and that to describe physical reality it is necessary only to
enumerate those attributes of sensible appearance which
are also attributes of physical reality. The conflict is evi-
dently due to different uses of the term 'attribute', and
the different uses affect equally such terms as 'quality',
'property', and 'character'. When it is said that no attri-
bute of physical reality can be also an attribute of sensible
appearance, 'attribute' is treated as a particular. When it
is said that physical reality and sensible appearance have
attributes in common, 'attribute' is treated as a universal.
Accordingly the formula which an exponent of the doc-
trine of Representative Perception selects for expressing
the relation of sensible appearance to physical reality will
be conditioned by his attitude towards the problem of the
particularity or universality of attributes.
The settlement of this controversy about the propriety
of the application to characteristics, whether attributes
or relations, of the distinction between universal and par-
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 141

ticular is fortunately beyond the scope of this article.s1

But it is important for our purpose that the point at issue
in this controversy should be recognised. The two views
are defined by Prof. Stout in his lecture on 'The Nature
of Universals and Propositions'.32 The one view, which
Prof. Stout attacks, he formulates as follows: "There is no
plurality of particular qualities corresponding to the plu-
rality of particular things. The COmmon quality is re-
garded as indivisibly single. Two billiard balls are both
round and smooth. So far as they are both round, the
roundness of the one is the roundness of the other. • • •
Abstract nouns, as standing for the quality in its single-
ness, without reference to any multiplicity of things quali-
fied by it, are thus regarded as singular terms, like proper
names".33 "Qualities and relations, as such, are univer-
sals."34 To this he opposes the view that "a character
characterising a concrete thing or individual is as particu-
lar as the thing or individual which it characterises. Of
two billiard balls, each has its own particular roundness
separate and distinct from that of the other, just as the
billiard balls themselves are distinct and separate".S5 "Ab-
stract nouns are . . . not singular but general terms.
Shape, for example, stands for 'all shapes as such'."36 On
this view "the phrase 'common character' is elliptical. It
really signifies a certain general kind or class of characters.
To say that particular things share in the common char-
acter is to say that each of them has a character which is
a particular instance of this kind or class of characters."
This claim has nothing to do with the claim that some
qualities are determinables, and that one determinate
form of a given determinable is different from another
determinate form of the same determinable. The differ-
31 Cook Wilson's distinction between 'attribute' and 'attribute-
element' seems to afford an argument in support of the
recognition of particular attributes. For if 'attribute' can be re-
solved into 'having an attribute-element', and if an 'attribute-
element' is a particular, the 'having a particular attribute-element'
must be itself particular (Statement and Inference, vol. i., p. 153
et seq.; p. 199).
32 Proceedmgs of the Brit. Acad., vol. x. 33 P. 4.
s4P.3. SliP. 4. 36P.5.
 142 Reginald Jackson
ence between particuljlr instances of a class of characters
is not a difference of kind, whether generic or specific.
This may be seen by selecting a variant of a determinable
of the lowest order, where differentiation into determinate
forms is precluded, such as 'equilateral triangularity'. On
Prof. Stout's view, the equilateral triangularity of one
equilateral triangle is not identical with the equilateral
triangularity of another equilateral triangle. But the equi-
lateral triangularity of each is "a particular instance of'the
kind or class of' equilateral triangularities, which is co-
extensive with the class of equilateral triangles. It seems
to follow that the relation of similarity can connect par-
ticular instances of a class of characters and not only par-
ticular instances of a class of things. On the other hand,
those who hold that "qualities and relations, as such, are
,universal" must maintain the impropriety of the state-
ment, that a quality of one substance is like a quality of
another substance, except where the statement means that
the resembling attributes are different determinate forms
of the same determinable. Thus it would be right to say
that the shape of one surface is like the shape of another
surface, if, while each surface is triangular, one is a right-
angled isosceles triangle and the other is an equilateral
triangle. For this would mean that the single quality 'equi-
lateral triangularity,' and the single quality 'right angled
isosceles triangularity', the one of which belongs to the
one surface (as well as to others not mentioned) and the
other of which belongs to the other surface (as well as to
others not mentioned), have in common the single char-
acter of being determinate forms of the single determi-
nable, 'triangularity' (which single character is also
common to other determinate forms). But, when two equi-
lateral triangles are being compared, the proper statement
is that the equilateral triangularity of the one is tIle equi-
lateral triangularity of the other, and this statement would
not, on this view, as it would on Prof. Stout's view, be
incompatible with tI1e numerical distinctness of the two
triangles.
If, bearing in mind thcse two views about the nature of
a character, we return to the distinction between tlle doc-
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 143
trine of Representative Perception and the Mixed View,
we find that this would have to be expressed in one way
by those who hold that a character is necessarily universal
and.in another way by those who hold that a character of
a particular thing is itself particular. Let it be supposed
that in some perceptual situations the sensible appearance
is geometrically similar to the physical reality. According
to the doctrine of Representative Perception, the situa-
tion would have to be described by those who hold that a
character of a particular thing is itself particular, by say-
ing that the particular shape of the sensible appearance is
not identical with, but resembles, the particular shape of
the physical reality. But, according to the Mixed View,
the situation would be described, by saying that the par-
ticular shape of the sensible appearance is the particular
shape of the physical reality. And the internal inconsist-
ency of the Mixed View would be easily seen to arise
from the fact that, while this implies that the sensible
appearance is identical with the physical reality, the claim,
that the particular colour of the sensible appearance is not
a characteristic of the physical reality, which is not col-
oured at all, implies that the sensible appearance is not
identical with the physical reality. Those who hold that a
character is necessarily universal could not accept this ac-
count. But they could give an alternative account. They
would have to describe the situation, according to the
doctrine of Representative Perception, by saying that the
sensible appearance and the physical reality are different
instances of the same single determinate shape. According
to the Mixed View, the sensible appearance and the physi-
cal reality would be the same instance of this single de-
terminate shape, and the internal inconsistency of the
Mixed View would arise from the fact that, while this
implies that the physical reality is identical with the sen-
sible appearance, the view that the sensible appearance is,
while the physical reality is not, an instance of colour, im-
plies tllat they are not identical. The important considera-
tion for our purpose is that, whereas, on the view that a
character is as such a univcrsal, the statement, that the
shape of the sensible appcarance is the shape of the physi-
144 Reginald Jackson
cal reality, would be in accordance with the doctrine of
Representative Perception, on the view that a character
of a particular thing is itself particular, this statement, un-
less recognised as an elliptical way of saying that the two
particular shapes are two instances of a class of such
shapes, would abandon the doctrine of Representative
Perception, and would imply either the Mixed View or
Naif Realism.
Now there seems to be no doubt that Locke would have
acquiesced in the view that "a character characterising a
concrete thing is as particular as the thing or individual
which it characterises". For he held that "general and uni-
versal belong not to the real existence of things; but are
the inventions and creations of the understanding" and
that when "we quit particulars, the generals that rest3T
are only creatures of our own making; their general nature
being nothing but the capacity they are put into, by the
understanding, of signifying or representing many particu-
lars".88 It is true that in these passages Locke is con-
cerned rather with things than with qualities. But his atti-
tude towards qualities is governed by the same principle.
For, by way of illustration of the origin of universals as a
means of avoiding endless names, he says, "Thus the same
colour being observed to-day in chalk or snow, which the
mind yesterday received from milk, it considers that ap-
pearance alone, makes it a representative of all that kind;
and having given it the name whiteness, it by that sound
signifies the same quality wheresoever to be imagined or
met with; and thus universals, whether ideas or terms, are
made."89 The determination with which he clung to this
view is strikingly evidenced in his criticism of Stilling-
fleet's distinction between nature considered as particular
and nature considered as universal, or nature considered
"as it is in distinct individuals" and nature "considered
8T Gibson quotes "result" (pp. 32 2 -32 3).
88 Essay, III., m., 11. Cf. Gibson (pp. 322-323), and Re·
marks upon some of Mr. Norris's Books, § 12.
89 11., XI., 9. That Locke's language betrays the awkward na·
ture of his position is not a sufficient reason for doubting that
this was his position.
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 145
abstractly, without respect to individual persons". Stilling-
fleet's distinction is clearly expressed, and he gives reasons
for drawing it. On the one hand, "the nature of man, as in
Peter, is distinct from the same nature, as it is in James
and John; otherwise, they would be but one person, as
well as have the same nature".40 On the other hand "the
nature itself remains one and the same; which appears
from this evident reason, that otherwise every individual
must make a different kind".40 Now not only does Locke
fail altogether, in his first letter, to grasp Stillingfleet's
view, but in his second letter he details with approval the
objection of a friend, that Stillingfleet's "sticking so close
all along to that vulgar way of speaking of the same com-
mon nature, being in several individuals, has made him
less easy to be understood. For to speak truly and pre-
cisely of this matter, as in reality it is, there is no such
thing as one and the saine common nature in several indi-
viduals; for all, that in truth is in them, is particular, and
can be nothing but particular'.41 This being Locke's view,
the appropriate statement for him to make in comparing
two similar things is, not that they have a quality in com-
mon, but that a quality of the one resembles a quality of
the other.
But, before ~mining Locke's attempt to meet the dif-
ficulty presented by the tendency of the positive tenet of
the doctrine of Representative Perception to lead to a
qualification of the negative tenet, it is necessary to notice
a peculiarity of Locke's version of the doctrine. In the ac-
count given above of the relation between physical reality
and sensible appearance, it has been throughout assumed
that sensible appearance is made up of things with quali-
ties, in accordance with the prevalent view that what is
sensed is never a bare quality, such as colour, but always
a complex sensum, to which qualities, such as shape and
colour, belong. Now it seems pretty certain that Locke
intended to denote, by "simple ideas of sensation", not
what are denoted by 'sensa', but what are denoted by'sen-
sible qualities'. But what he intended to connote is far
40 Works (179.1;), vol. iii., pp. 72-73. 41 P. 175.
146 Reginald Jackson
from clear. Despite his statement that the ideas produced
"by the qualities that affect our senses" "enter by the
senses simple and unmixed",42 which suggests that we are
supposed first to apprehend "simple ideas of sensation"
and then by a subsequent synthesis to generate sensa,
Campbell Fraser seems to be right in denying that Locke
meant to assert that the simple ideas can be "received, or
represented, in their simplicity",43 and in claiming that
the simple ideas are supposed to be original data only as
constituents of aggregates-what Hume called "complex
impressions"-in which they can be distinguished by sub-
sequent analysis. Granted, however, that the simple ideas
of sensation are always apprehended in groups, this does
not require them to be qualities. Locke's usual expression
is that they "exist in combination" or "accompany one an-
other", and he never speaks of them as qualities of sensible
appearance nor as qualities of an)'thing except when he in
his naively realistic language treats them as sensible quali-
ties of bodies. He habitually regards them as dependent
for their existence on the sensing of them, but he does not
suppose that they are qualities of mind. Unfortunately,
he never faces the problem of the ontological status of
simple ideas of sensation. 44 If, however, Locke was in-
42 Essay, II., II., 1.
43 Vol. i., p. 144. Cf. Essay, II., XII., 1; XXII., 2; Gibson, pp.
47-49, 61-62.
44 Cf. T. E. Webb, The Intellectualism of Locke, for the view
that "the Idea of Locke, like the Idea of Arnauld, is the mere act
of thought considered as an object of reflection" (p. 38). It is
true that in many passages, such as "our ideas being nothing but
actual perceptions in the mind, which cease to be anything when
there is no perception of them" (Essay, II., X., 2), and perhaps
generally in the Essay, Locke holds the view that "ideas" depend
for their existence on the consciousness of them. But in his Ex-
amination of Malebranche and his Remarks upon some of Mr.
Norris's Books, he seems not to recognise the extent of the
ground common to him and to his opponents; and his unwilling-
ness to admit that on his own view "ideas," being neither "modi-
fications of the mind" nor physical qualities, are in God in the
only sense in which they are in the mind of a percipient-as ob-
jects of consciousness-leads him into difficulties. Sometimes
what is seen is "the marygold in the garden" (Remarks, § 2); at
other times it is "the image . . . on the retina" (Exam., § 10).
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 147
elined to treat them as substantival, in the sense that they
are not qualities of anything, this would only strengthen
his inclination to regard them as particulars.
Viewed as an attempt, by one who regarded both "sim-
ple ideas of sensation" and qualities of bodies as particu-
lars, to reconcile the two tenets of the doctrine of
Representative Perception, Locke's distinction between
Qualities and Ideas and his claim that some Ideas re-
semble Qualities present themselves as complementary
requisites of that doctrine.
It is to preserve the negative tenet that the distinction
between Qualities and Ideas is drawn. That Locke's lan-
guage, even in the formulation of this distinction, is woe-
fully confused, must be admitted.45 Not only does he
identify Qualities or "modifications of matter in the bod-
And he urges against Malebranche the difficulty of explaining
how on Malebranche's view we can "know there is any such thing
existing as body at aU" (Exam., § 52) without betraying the least
suspicion that his own view is exposed to the same objection. In
fact, he was justly "complained of for not having 'given an ac-
count of, or defined the nature of our ideas'" (Remarks, § 2),
since, while willing to admit that "seeing a colour, and hearing a
sound, is a modification of the mind", if this means "an altera-
tion of the mind from not perceiving to perceiving that sound or
colour" (Exam., §. 47), he never faces the necessity of determin-
ing the status, on his view, of the sound and the colour them-
selves. Webb's argument, that "in the Examination Locke denies
that Ideas are 'Modifications of Mind', while in the Essay he
consistently admits that they are 'Modifications of Thinking'"
(p. 38), or that he denies "Ideas to be Modifications of the men-
tal Substance," but holds they are "Modifications of the mental
Energy, and, therefore, identical with the percipient act" (p. 37),
does not seem to be capable of explaining these passages. And
the passage which Webb cites, that in thinking "the mind ob-
serves a great variety of modifications, and from thence receives
distinct ideas" (Essay, II., XIX., 1), is of no assistance. For Locke
is there speaking of mental acts, and the "ideas" referred to are
"ideas of reflection", and there is no objection to the claim that
these are "modifications of the mental Energy". What is in dis-
Eute is how the "ideas of sensation", of which some of these
'modifications" are the acts of apprehension, are related to the
apprehension of them.
45 ct. Reid, p. 317. Hamilton finds that these "strictures on
Locke are rather hypercritical". But the nature of the confusion
must be considered if Locke is to be interpreted at aU.
148 Reginald Jackson
ies" with "the power to produce any idea in our mind",46
which strictly belongs to the body "by reason of its in-
sensible primary qualities".47 He also introduces the dis-
tinction between Qualities and Ideas as a distinction be-
tween two kinds of "ideas".48 Moreover, his choice of
terms is unhappy and is an offence against his maxim to
apply "words as near as may be to such ideas as common
use has annexed them to".49 For his distinction requires
that the term "Quality" be restricted, in its application,
to qualities of physical reality, and that what it would be
in accordance with general usage to call qualities of sen-
sible appearance or, at any rate, sensible qualities be called
not "Qualities" but "Ideas". He may have been influenced
in this by his habit of not regarding "simple ideas of sen-
sation" as qualities of anything. But it is not surprising
that he is unequal to the strain of constantly observing the
breach with tlle general usage of so widely current a term
as 'quality', and that he queers his distinction both by
speaking of "sensible qualities" when his distinction re-
quires "Ideas" and by references to "ideas in the things
themselves" where he should say "Qualities". If we dis-
tinguish the technical use of the terms by means of initial
capitals, we may say that Locke's distinction safeguards
the negative tenet of the doctrine of Representative Per-
ception by calling qualities of physical reality 'Qualities'
and by calling what we call qualities of sensible appear-
ance or sensible qualities 'Ideas'.
It is in order to reconcile with the distinction between
Qualities and Ideas the implication of the positive tenet,
that physical reality can be described in terms of sensible
appearance, that Locke goes on to claim, not that physi-
cal reality resembles sensible appearance in the possession
of certain common qualities, but that certain qualities of
sensible appearance or certain "simple ideas of sensation"
resemble certain qualities of physical reality. Had he held
that "qualities and relations, as such, are universals," and
had he also recognised that "simple ideas of sensation" are
qualities of sensible appearance, he could, without jeop-
46 II., VIII., 7, 8. 47 II., VIII., .. 3. 48 II., VIII., 7.
49 II!., XI., 11.
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 149
ardising the doctrine of Representative Perception, have
claimed that physical reality and sensible appearance have
certain qualities in common. But since he held that "gen-
eral and universal belong not to the real existence of
things," and since he did not usually regard "simple ideas
of sensation" as qualities of anything, such a claim would
have been fatal to the numerical distinctness of Qualities
and Ideas. On the other hand, the formula which he
chooses both makes it possible for him to describe physical
reality in terms of sensible appearance and, so far from
involving any qualification in the direction of Naif Real-
ism of the negative tenet of the doctrine of Representa-
tive Perception, itself presupposes the integrity of the
negative tenet. For his claim is that some Ideas, namely,
"ideas of primary qualities", "are resemblances of them,
and their patterns do really exist in the bodies themselves",
while other Ideas, namely, "ideas of secondary qualities",
"have no resemblance of them at a1l".50 This claim clearly
requires that the particular Qualities and Ideas, which
either resemble or do not resemble one another, be nu-
merically distinct.
Now the whole purport of this proceeding is smothered
when Locke is interpreted as if he accepted the Mixed
View, and when the statement that "ideas of primary
qualities" resemble Qualities is treated as if it identified
"ideas of primary qualities" with Qualities. It has already
been claimed "that it is difficult to understand how Locke
could, on the supposition that he really intended the
Mixed View, have come to write the passages which em-
body the doctrine of Representative Perception". It may
be worth while to examine Campbell Fraser's handling of
the problem. Commenting on the statement "that the
ideas of primary qualities of bodics are resemblances of
them, and their patterns do really exist in the bodies
themselves; but the ideas produced in us by these second-
50 II., VIII., 15. I take "them" to be, in the first statement,
the Qualities represented by Ideas of Primary QualitieS, and, in
the second statement, the Qualities (miClosC'opic) reprc'l'nt"d by
Ideas of Secondary Qualities. S~e this \'phlllc (pp. ('7-Y' \,
F
150 Reginald Jackson
ary qualities have no resemblance of them at all",51 he
says, "Locke, less subtle [than Berkeley], probably means,
in his vague way, that the primary qualities are virtually
the ideas we have of them, while of the other qualities
there is nothing in the things that can be identified with
what we feel. The alleged 'resemblance' in the former
case is Locke's way of asserting the objective existence of
the presented appearance or idea:'52 Why Locke, if this
had been his meaning, should have expressed himself so
oddly-and the oddity is by no means adequately recog-
nised in the description of Locke's language as a "vague
way" of speaking-is not explained. In point of fact,
Locke's statement, vague though it may be in other refer-
ences, is with reference to this issue sufficiently definite,
and the objection to it, from the point of view of a com-
mentator who attributes to Locke the view that some
"ideas of sensation" are identical with qualities of physical
reality, is not that it is vague, but that it is definitely in-
capable of being so construed. But it has already been
argued that the statement, which Locke should, according
to Campbell Fraser, have made, is incompatible with the
distinction between Qualities and Ideas which he had just
previously drawn, while the statement which Locke did
make is exactly what is required to prevent that distinc-
tion from reducing Locke to silence on the subject of the
nature of physical reality and at the same time requires
that the distinction be maintained unimpaired. The in-
terpretation, therefore, represents Locke as meaning some-
thing, which his statement cannot reasonably be supposed
to mean, which he has no motive for saying, and which he
has a sound motive for not saying.
With the truth or falsity of Locke's view this article is
not directly concerned. But it is possible that the opinion
of some of Locke's critics, that the claim that some Ideas
resemble Qualities is not even plausible, has been in part
responsible for the belief that Locke did not mean what
he said. It must be admitted that Locke overstates the re-
semblance, since a determinate Quality is not, except per-
1>1 II., VIII., 15. 62 I., 173.
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 15 1

haps in unusual perceptual situations, an exact "pattern"

of the Idea which represents it. Possibly, however, Webb
is right in saying that, "in stating our Ideas of the Primary
Qualities to be exact resemblances, Locke merely meant
to assert that those Qualities exist in nature exactly as in
thought we conceive them to exist".53 But, in any case,
the trouble is not removed by the substitution of identity
for resemblance. The criticism offered by Berkeley seems,
however, to have nothing to do with the variability of
"ideas of primary qualities" where the Qualities are be-
lieved to be constant. He claims that "an idea can be like
nothing but an idea; a colour or figure can be like nothing
but another colour or figure".54 Now Locke does not say
that colour-an "idea of a secondary quality"-is like a
Quality, but he does say that the "idea of shape" is like a
Quality, and to this Berkeley's objection seems to be either
that physical reality cannot have shape, or that a sensible
quality cannot resemble a physical quality because the one
is sensible and the other is physical-an objection which
rests on a failure to recognise that resemblance, so far
from precluding, presupposes difference. 55 And the criti-
53 The Intellectualism of Locke, p. 30. 54 Principles, viii.
55 It almost looks as if Cook Wilson brings this objection
against the doctrine, when he says, "Is Hs (i.e., heat as sensed),
representative of Hx (i.e., Heat as in the body) as being like it?
No: for then Hx as like a sensation in quality would itself have
to be a sensation: and that, according to your own view, would
be a 'flagrant absurdity'" (Statement and Inference, vol. ii., p.
773)·
Again, "With you 'representative' means 'representing some·
thing other than itself; it would be important to say what 'other
than itself' exactly means, whether 'other' as one smarting pain is
other than another such pain or different in kind as the smart is
different from the thorn which causes it . . . your theory necessi·
tates the latter kind of difference, for if Hs, which represents Hx
in the body, were like Hx, what you call the flagrant absurdity
would be committed of supposing the body had a sensation"
(pp. 779-780). But it is, perhaps, impossible to understand his
argument without access to the paper which he is discussing.
Berkeley, in bringing this criticism, inconsistently implies that
Locke did hold the doctrine of Representative Perception. He
seems not to have noticed that the argument, that what has been
proved of "certain sensible qualities", namely, that they "have
152 Reginald Jackson
cism offered by Reid seems also to have nothing to do with
the fact that the resemblance is overstated, but to be con-
ditioned by his curious56 refusal to distinguish between
'act of sensing' and 'content sensed', which results in his
first supposing that an "idea of a primary quality" is a
"sensation" and then arguing that "no quality of an in-
animate insentient being can have the least resemblance
to it".57
Before considering the problem presented by the con-
flicting passages, we may observe that the view that Quali-
ties and Ideas are numerically distinct, is by no means
confined to the passages we have examined. It is clearly
implied when Qualities are contrasted with "the ideas
produced by them in the mind"58 and when Ideas are
contrasted with their "external causes", which may be
"but a privation in the subject".59 Even in a passage in
which Locke, apparently overlooking the incompleteness
of the resemblance of "ideas of primary qualities" to the
Qualities which they represent, and so being in danger of
substituting identity for resemblance, namely, in the state-
ment that "a circle or square are the same, whether in idea
or existence, in the mind or in the manna", the manna is
still said to be "able to produce in us the idea of a round
or square figure", while the "idea of motion represents it
[the Quality] as it [the Quality] really is in manna
moving".6o
There are, however, numerous passages in which Locke
uses the language of Naif Realism. We have already seen
that the distinction between Qualities and Ideas is intro-
duced as a distinction among "ideas", and they are said
to be distinguished "as they are ideas or perceptions in
our minds; and as they are modifications of matter in the
no existence in matter, or without the mind",. "may be likewise
proved of all other sensible qualities whatsoever" (Principles,
xiv.), could not be a criticism of the same doctrine as the argu-
ment that "an idea can be like nothing but an idea".
56 Curious in view of his full recognition of the distinction be-
tween "thought and the object of thought" (e.g., p. 277).
57 P. 229. Reid is referring to 'pain,' but he claims that "what
we have said of pain may be applied to every other sensation".
58 II., VIII., 22. 59 II., VIII., 1, 2. 60 II., VIII., 18.
Locke's Version of Representative Perception 153
bodies that cause such perceptions in us". It is clear that
the word "they" could grammatically refer to the same
entities, but only at the cost of implying the identity of
"ideas of secondary qualities" as well as of "ideas of pri-
mary qualities" with Qualities. But there are more definite
instances. Thus "external material things" are identified
with "the objects of sensation" in a context which de-
mands that "objects of sensation" be interpreted as "ob-
jects sensed".61 Again "simple ideas", without distinction
between "ideas of primary qualities" and "ideas of second-
ary qualities", are said to be "conveyed in by the senses, as
they are found in exterior things",62 and, in the sections
which follow, the language proper to the doctrine of Rep-
resentative Perception, according to which Locke speaks of
"qualities which are capable of producing simple ideas in
US",6S alternates with the language proper to Naif Real-
ism, until Locke, in a desperate attempt to be fair to
everybody, takes refuge in the comprehensive geniality of
the formula "qualities or simple ideas",64 as if the terms
were interchangeable. In one passage he refers to "the
particular ringing sound there is in gold";65 and, when he
claims that there can be no "doubt to the eye (that can
distinctly see white and black), Whether this ink and this
paper be all of a colour",66 he implies that an "idea of a
secondary quality" is identical with a Quality. But there
are also passages in which Locke identifies only "ideas of
primary qualities" with Qualities. Motion and figure are
said to be "really in the manna whether we take notice of
them or no".67 Primary Qualities are said to be "in them
[bodies], whether we perceive them or not".68 And the
important term "insensible primary qualities",69 applied
to microscopic qualities, implies that macroscopic quali-
ties are sensible, though the expression "every particle of
matter which has bulk enough to be perceived"70 can be
corrected by reference to the more accurate "masses of
matter, of a bulk sufficient to cause a sensation in us".71
61 II., I., 4. 62 II., XXIII., 1. 63 II., XXIII., 2.
64 II., XXIII., 6. 65 III., XI., 21. 66 IV., II., 5.
67 II., VIII., 18. 68 II., XXIII., 9. 69 II., VIII., 23.
70 II., VIII., 9. 71 II., rv., 1.
154 Reginald JClckson
There seems to be no difficulty in accounting for these
passages on the view that Locke really intended the doc-
trine of Representative Perception and that the passages
are, accordingly, occasions of inconstancy. The inaccuracy
arises in part from the well-known difficulty of constantly
adapting a language to meet the needs of a doctrine which
was formulated long after the language had become firmly
established, a difficulty intensified for Locke by his con-
tempt for the traditional terminology of the Scholastics
and by his sympathy with the plain man. It is also in part
due to the fact that Locke is largely occupied in giving an
account of the origin of our "complex ideas of particular
substances", and, as these ideas are certainly acquired be-
fore the difficulties of NaIf Realism are felt, the con-
sciousness whose development Locke traces does suppose
qualities of bodies to be sensible. These considerations,
together with the fact that Locke explicitly asks indul-
gence for such inconstancy,72 and even chooses the term
"secondary quality" as "accommodated to the vulgar no-
tions, without which one cannot be well understood",7s
seem to justify the qualification of these passages in the
light of what Locke says elsewhere. But the vital consider-
ation, if we have to cl\pose between the Mixed View and
the doctrine of Representative Perception, is that the na-
ively realistic passages have to be treated as occasions of
inconstancy on either interpretation; and, in treating the
passages in which "ideas of primary qualities" are identi-
fied with Qualities as also occasions of inconstancy, one
can plead all the same influences in explanation, together
with the additional factor of the resemblance of the enti-
ties thus inconstantly identified.
72 II., VIII., 8. 73 II., XXXI., 2. Cf. II., VOl., 10.
 LOCKE AND THE PROBLEM
OF PERSONAL IDENTITY
ANTONY FLEW

I. PREAMBLE

This paper attempts to do three main things. First, it

outlines Locke's contribution to the discussion of the prob-
lem of personal identity, that is, the philosophical prob-
lem of what is meant by the expression "same person."
Second, it attacks Locke's proposed solution, showing that
it is quite irreparably wrong. Third, it enquires how Locke
was misled into offering this mistaken yet perennially se-
ductive answer.

II. LOCKE'S CONTRIBUTION

Locke's contribution to the discussion was fourfold.

First, he saw the importance of the problem. Second, he
realized that the puzzle cases, the "strange suppositions,"
were relevant. Third, he maintained that "same" had a
different meaning when applied to the noun "person"
from its meaning in other applications. And, fourth, he
offered his own answer to the main question of the mean-
ing df "same person."
1. Locke saw the importance of the problem. It is im-
portant because, "In this personal identity is founded all
the right and justice of reward and punishment" (Essay,
II, XXVII, 18). That is to say, it is never fair to blame nor
From Philosophy, Vol. XXVI (1951). Reprinted by permission
of the author and Philosophy. The paper has been revised for
this volume.
156 Antony Flew
just to punish the prisoner in the dock for murdering his
bride in her bath unless the prisoner is the same person
as he who did the deed. The same is equally true of the
ascription of responsibility at the Last Judgment. Further-
more and even more fundamentally, as Locke clearly saw
but never so clearly stated, all questions of survival, pre-
existence, and immortality, are questions of personal iden-
tity. The question "Is Cesare Borgia still alive, surviving
bodily death?" is equivalent to "Is there a person now
alive, surviving bodily death, who is the same person as
Cesare Borgia?"
But it might still be argued (and certainly would be
argued, by those numerous contemporary philosophers
who pray, with the Trinity mathematicians, that their sub-
ject may never be of any use to anybody) that all that has
been proved is that some important questions are or in-
volve questions of personal identity, and that it has not
been shown that these questions demand a solution of the
philosophical problem of personal identity. Perhaps psy-
chical research can proceed without benefit of any philo-
sophical analysis of "same person" just as many other sci-
ences proceed satisfactorily with the study of so-and-sos
without feeling handicapped by the lack of philosophical
analyses of the expression "so-and-sos." This analogy is
misleading here. For it is precisely the cases studied by
psychical researchers and parapsychologists, which raise
both in them and in everyone who reads of their work,
exactly those questions of meaning which it is the proper
business of analytical philosophy to answer.
When we are presented with stories like that of the
"Watseka Wonder," recorded by William James in Chap-
ter x of The Principles of Psychology, we ask whether the
patient Lurancy Vennum really was or became the same
person as Mary Roff. Someone then is bound to ask what
we mean by "same person," for this is pre-eminently the
sort of question where "It all depends what you mean."
Or take an example from Locke: "I once met with one,
who was persuaded that his had been the soul of Socrates
(how reasonably I will not dispute; this I know, that in the
post he filled, which was no inconsiderable one, he passed
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 157
for a very rational man, and the press has shown that he
wanted not parts or learning; . . ." (Essay, II, XXVII, 14:
italics original). Perhaps this was a case which set Locke
himself enquiring about personal identity. But for us it is
sufficient if we have shown that the puzzle cases which
are so characteristic of certain investigations inevitably
and rightly raise philosophical questions about the mean-
ing of "same person."
2. Locke seems to have been the first to appreciate the
relevance of such puzzle cases. They present a challenge.
Any solution to the problem must be able to do one of
two things. Either it must consist in some sort of definition
or set of rules, which will enable us to deal with all pos-
sible puzzles; either by telling us that "same person" is or
is not correctly applicable; or by hinting to us what further
factual information we require before we can know. Or
else the solution must explain why the questions raised by
the puzzle cases cannot be so definitively answered. Locke
himself chose the first alternative, and answered all the
puzzles he had invented in the light of his talismanic
definition. For instance, he tells us what would decide the
puzzle of the man who claimed to have the same soul as
Socrates (Essay, II, XXVII, 19).
3. Locke maintained that "same" is systematically am-
biguous: "It is not therefore unity of substance that com-
prehends all sorts of identity or will determine it in every
case; but to conceive and judge of it aright, we must con-
sider what idca the word it is applied to stands for" (Es-
say, II, XXVII, 8). It would not be relevant to discuss this
general claim. It is enough to show that Locke is right at
least in so far as he is maintaining that there are special
and peculiar problems about "same" as applied to persons.
And this can be seen to be the case by tlle example of
Hume, who thought he could solve the problem of the
identity of things, but confessed himself completely at a
loss as to "the nature of the bond which unites a person."
4. Lockc proposed a solution to the philosophical prob-
lem. It is that X at time two is the same person as Y at
time one if and only if X and Yare both persons and X
can remember at time two (his doing) what Y did, or felt,
F*
158 Antony Flew
or what have you, at time one. The parenthetical "his do-
ing" has to go in since, as Professor Bernard Williams has
pointed out, "we constantly say things like 'I remember
my brother joining the army' without implying that I and
my brother are the same person"; though it is worth stress-
ing, as Williams does not, that all such utterances do still
carry an implicit personal identity claim about the speaker
-the claim that he was himself around and acquiring the
information at the time in question. Certainly by making
this insertion our reformulation becomes even more ob-
viously exposed to "Butler's famous objection that mem-
ory, so far from constituting personal identity, presup-
posed it." Yet this is not· a fault in the reformulation,
considered as a representation of Locke's position. For
that position actually is wide open to that objection. It is
not, as Williams seems to be suggesting, only our present
belated insertion which lends colour to it.!
A person is for Locke "a thinking intelligent being, that
has reason and reflection, and can consider itself as itself,
the same thinking thing, in different times and places"
(Essay, II, XXVII, 11). This is distinguished from the idea
of man since, "ingenious observation [sicl] puts it past
doubt", that "the idea in our minds, of which the sound
man in our mouths is the sign, is nothing else but of an
animal of such a certain form" (Essay, II, XXVII, 9: italics
supplied); although a very little later we are told that the
same idea consists "in most people's sense" of the idea of
"a body, so and so shaped, joined to" that of "a thinking
or rational being' (Essay, II, XXVII, 10: italics supplied).
Locke's proposed solution, in his own words, is that:
"That with which the consciousness of this present think-
ing thing can join itself, makes the same person, and is
one self with it, and with nothing else; and so attributes to
itself and owns all the actions of that thing, as its own, as
far as that consciousness reaches, and no further; as every-
one who reflects wm perceive" (Essay, II, XXVII, 17: italics
1 B. A. O. Williams, "Personal Identity and Individuation" in
Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 1956-57, p. 233: the
objcction itself is considered more fully in III (1), below.
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 159
original). One must here point out that the word "con-
sciousness" is not used by Locke clearly and consistently.
Sometimes it seems to mean self-conscious, in the tricky
and curious sense in which to say that someone is self-
conscious is not to say that he is embarrassed: for instance,
we read that "a being that . . . can consider itself as it-
self . . . does so only by that consciousness which is in-
separable from thinking . . ." (Essay, II, XXVII, 11).
Sometimes it seems to be more straightforwardly the con-
sciousness which is the opposite of anaesthesia: for in-
stance, when "self" is defined as "a conscious thinking
thing . . . which is sensible or conscious of pleasure or
pain, capable of happiness or misery . . ." (Essay, If,
XXVII, 17). But in his main statements of his position
"consciousness" is simply equivalent to "memory," as can
be seen from the words, "Could we suppose any spirit
wholly stripped of all its memory or consciousness of past
actions; as we find our minds always are of a great part of
ours, and sometimes of them all . . ." (Essay, II, XXVII,
2 5). In the interests of both clarity and brevity we have
used "remember" instead of "be conscious of" in our re-
statements of Locke's central thesis.

III. OBJECTIONS TO LOCKE'S SOLUTION

There are two lines of attack.

1. The first and simpler was classically taken by Bishop
Butler in his dissertation Of Personal Identity: "And one
should really think it self-evident, that consciousness of
personal identity presuppClses, and therefore cannot con-
stitute, personal identity; any more than knowledge, in
any other case, can constitute truth, which it presup-
poses" (§ 3).2 It is absurd to say that "he is the same per-
son" means that "he can remember that he is the same
person." The absurdity is usually slightly masked, since
expressions such as "I remember doing, feeling, seeing
something" do not refer explicitly to the fact that what is
2 Works, ed. W. E. Gladstone, Oxford University Press, 1897.
160 Antony Flew
remembered is that the speakcr is the same person as did,
felt, or saw whatever it was.
2. The second line of attack is much more intricate,
demanding very careful generalship. The crux is that
Locke's criterion is at the same time both too strict in
blackballing and too lcnient in admitting candidates. Of-
ten his definition would not allow us to apply the expres-
sion "same person," where we certainly should think it
properly applicable; whereas in other cases Locke's ruling
would be that it did apply, when we should certainly judge
it not correctly applicable.
Before developing this second attack two distinctions
have to be II\ade. Two of the terms in Locke's definition
are relevantly ambiguous. "Can" may be either "can as a
matter of fact" (hereafter referred to as "can [factual]")
or it may be "can without self-contradiction be said to"
(hereafter referred to as "can [logical]"). There is also a
more subtle ambiguity in "remember," which is best
brought out by symbolic examples. "I know p" entails "p,"
whereas "He said that he knew p, and he was not lying"
does not entail "p." Similarly, "I remember p" entails
"p," but "He said that he remembered p, and he was not
lying" does not entail "p." For, just as it is possible to be
honestly mistaken in a claim to know something, so it is
possible to be honestly mistaken in making a claim to re-
member something. When someone challenges a knowl-
edge claim or a memory claim he is not necessarily, or
even usually, challenging the claimant's integrity. He is
much more likely to be merely questioning the truth of
the proposition said to be known or remembered. And, of
course, if the proposition is in fact false this is sufficient to
defeat the claim really to know or truly to remember.
(Another possibility, mentioned only to be dismissed as
here irrelevant, is that the critic is either challenging the
adequacy of the grounds available to support the knowl-
edge claim or challenging the implicit claim to have been
in the past in a position which qualifies remembering
now.) We have, therefore, to distinguish between genuine
remembering, which necessarily involves the truth of the
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 161

proposition said to be remembered, and making honest

memory claims, which does not.
It is now time and possible to ring the changes on these
alternative interpretations of "can" and "remember."
(a) First, taking "can" as logical and "remember" as en-
tailing the truth of what is remembered, Locke's defini-
tion could be made into a necessary truth, albeit a futile
necessary truth. For it is manifestly true, though not an
helpful definition of "same person," that X at time two is
the same person as Y at time one if and only if X and Y
are both persons and X can (logically) remember at time
two (his doing) what Y did, or what have you, at time
one. It is manifestly true since for it to be genuine mem-
ory the person remembering must necessarily be the same
person as the person whose experience or activity he claims
to be remembering as his own. On this interpretation
what we have is of course not open to· attack on the
ground that it is too exclusive or too inclusive, only that
it is an otiose only too truism.
(b) Second, taking "remember" in the same way as re-
ferring to genuine remembering and "can" as can (fac-
tual), Locke's definition is open to two objections. First,
it excludes too much; for we often and rightly want to
say that we must have done something or other though we
cannot for the life of us remember doing it. We are even
prepared to accept full responsibility for such forgotten
actions, at any rate provided that they are not too impor-
tant. Even if they are important, and even if we want to
disown or diminish our moral or legal responsibility for
them, we are prepared to concede that we are the same
persons as did them, unless, mistakenly, we think that
personal identity is not merdy the necessary but also the
sufficient conditipn of full moral and legal responsibility.
TIle second objection to the second interpretation is the
famous paradox, The Case of the Callant Officer. This ob-
jection seems to have been made first, but in a mono-
chrome version, by Berkeley in the eighth section of
Alciphron VII. Later it was reproduced by Reid in glorious
Teehnicolor: "Suppose a brave officer to have been flogged
when a boy at school, for robbing an orchard, to have
162 Antony Flew
taken a standard from the enemy in his first campaign,
and also to have been made a general in advanced life."3
Then, if the young officer could remember the flogging,
and the general could remember taking the standard but
not being flogged as a boy, on Locke's principles we should
have to say that the general both is and is not the same
person as the orchard robber. He is not the same (because
he cannot now remember the robbery), and yet he is the
same (because he is the same as the young officer who was
in turn the same as the boy thief).
(c) The third possibility is to take "can" as can (logi-
cal) and "remember" as involving only the making of an
honest memory claim. The objection to this is that it will
let too much in. This point too was, it seems, first made
by Berkeley in the private Philosophical Commentaries:
"Wherein consists identity of person? Not in actual con-
sciousness; for then I'm not the same person I was this
day twelvemonth, but while I think of what I then did.
Not in potential; for then all persons may be the same,
for aught we know. Mem: story of Mr Deering's aunt.
Two sorts of potential consciousness-natural and preter-
natural. In the last section but one I mean the latter."4
It is surely our present point which Berkeley is making
since his preternatural potential consciousness is obviously
equivalent to ability to remember in the present interpre-
tations of "can" and "remember." No one seems able to
provide any informative gloss on his note: "Mem: story
of Mr Deering's aunt." But presumably Berkeley is think-
ing of something which we should count as a puzzle case,
and it looks as if he-unlike Locke's other early critics-
appreciated the relevance of such cases.
(d) The fourth possible combination, that of "can" as
can (factual) with "remember" as involving only the mak-
ing of an honest memory claim, yields an interpretation
open to all three objections made against the thesis in in-
a Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man, ed. A. D. Wooz·
ley, London, 1941, III, 6.
4 Works, ed. A. A. Luce & T. E. Jessop, Edinburgh, 1948-57,
Vol. I, p. 26, Entries 200-2: spelling and punctuation slightly
modified.
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 163
terpretations two and three. First, it leaves too much out,
ignoring amnesia. Second, it lets too much in, ignoring
paramnesia. Third it is internally inconsistent, being ex-
posed to the paradox of The Case of the Gallant Officer.
Since people seem more familiar with amnesia than with
paramnesia it is just worth remarking that paramnesia is
not just a lqgical possibility but a real phenomenon. The
stock and pathetic example is the British King George
IV, who in his declining and demented years "remem-
bered" his dashing leadership at the Battle of Waterloo;
notwithstanding that only a devoutly Lockean, or an un-
scrupulously flattering, courtier could have pretended that
the King must therefore have been present on that de-
cisive field. Vulgar cases are provided daily by those who
press forward to claim sincerely but without factual foun-
dation the discredit for committing the latest newsy
murder.
3. This completes our direct case against Locke's pro-
posed solution of the main philosophical problem. But
here, as in the political trials in less happier lands, the
direct case can be rounded off with a sort of confession.
For despite his insistence that, "the same consciousness
being preserved, whether in the same or different sub-
stances, the personal identity is preserved" Locke is never-
theless, reasonably but inconsistently, anxious lest "one
intellectual substance may not have represented to it, as
done by itself, what it never did, and was perhaps done by
some other agent • . ." (Essay, II, XXVII, 13: italics
original) .
Locke's anxiety is indeed very reasonable, and, as F. H.
Bradley said in a slightly different connection: "it may
help us to perceive, what was evident before, that a self
is not thought to be the same because of bare memory,
but only so when the memory is considered not to be de-
fective."5 But, though reasonable, Locke's anxiety is en-
tirely inconsistent with his official account of personal
identity, which requires him to deny that there can (logi-
cal) be honest but falsidical memory claims. For if "being
5 Appearance and Reality, London and New York, 1893, p. 85.
164 Antony Flew
the same person as did that" means "being a person able
to remember (his) doing, or being able to be conscious of
(his) doing, that" then you cannot consistently say that a
person may both be able to remember doing and yet not
actually have done some particular thing. (Or, rather, to
be absolutely strict, this can bc made consistent only by
interpreting "remember" to refer exclusively to genuine
veridical memory; thus reducing this whole account of
personal identity to vacuity.)
In his desperation Locke falls on his knees: "And that it
never is so, will by us, till we have clearer views of the na-
ture of thinking substances, be best resolved in the good-
ness of God; who as far as the happiness or misery of any
of his sensible creatures is concerned will not, by a fatal
error of theirs, transfer from one to another that conscious-
ness which draws reward or punishment with it" (Essay,
II, XXVII, 13). But the assistance for which Locke suppli-
cates is beyond the resources even of Omnipotence. For on
Locke's view there could be no sense in his own fear that
people might lose or escape their deserts because they re-
membered doing what they had not in fact done: if any-
one can remember doing something then necessarily-ac-
cording to Locke's account-he is in fact the same person
as did that deed. By making this desperate appeal, Locke
both tacitly confesses the inadequacy of his own account
of personal identity and provides one more example of a
phenomenon already all too familiar to the student of
religious apologetic-the hope that the sheer physical
power of a postulated God can make contradictions con-
sistent or by itself make utterances to which no sense has
been given sensible.

IV. SOURCES OF TROUBLE

The question now arises how Locke managed to get him-

self into this confused and catastrophic position. This is a
question of very much more than merely antiquarian in-
terest, since in one form or another both that position
itself and the mistakes which misled Locke into it seem to
Loeke and the Problem of Personal Identity 165
have a perennial appeal. One first part of the answer lies
in those possibilities of confusion about memory, which
we have examined already. (See III, especially 111(2),
above.)
Second, as we have also seen, Locke uses the word "con-
scious" and its associates in several ways. He seems to
slide from his definition of "person" as "a thinking intelli-
gent being, that . . . can consider itself as itself, the same
thinking thing, in different times and places", by way of
talk of "that consciousness which is inseparable from
thinking, and as it seems to me, essential to it," to the
eventual conclusion that "and as far as this consciousness
can be extended backwards to any past action or thought,
so far reaches the identity of that person" (Essay, II, XXVII,
11). Here we seem in the first passage to be dealing with
the sort of consciousness of self which is not the self-
consciousness of embarrassment, in the second with that
consciousness which is contrasted with complete uncon-
sciousness, and in the concluding third with a conscious.-
ness which is identified with memory.
Third, Locke seems sometimes-like many others since-
to have confused the epistemological questions, "How can
we know, what good evidence can we have for, propositions
about personal identity?" with the inseparable but not
identical enquiry, "What do such propositions mean?" It
is the latter which he is supposed to be pursuing. But
what he offers would provide a partial answer to the for-
mer. Thus when he tens us that on the "Great Day"
everyone will "receive his doom, his conscience accusing
or excusing him," or that if he could remember "Noah's
flood" as clearly as last winter's "overflowing of the
Thames" he could no more doubt "that he was the same
self" who saw both floods, he is clearly answering a ques-
tion of the first sort; or perhaps one of the subtly but im-
portantly different 'How can we convince ourselves' sort
(Essay, II, XXVII, 22 and 16). But neither sort of question
can be identified with that to which Locke's main problem
belongs: "in this doctrine not only is consciousness con-
founded with memory but, which is still more strange,
166 Antony Flew
personal identity is confounded with the evidence which
we have of our personal identity."6
Fourth, as we have seen, Locke defined "person" as "a
thinking intelligent being, that has reason and reflection,
and can consider itself as itself, the same thinking thing,
in different times and places." Ignoring the possible dan-
ger of circularity which lurks in this talk of "the same
thinking thing," the more radical objection must be made
that this definition misses the ordinary meaning and use
of the term "person." We learn the word "people," by be-
ing shown people, by meeting them and shaking hands
with them. They may be intelligent or unintelligent, in-
trospective or extraverted, black, white, red, or brown, but
what they cannot be is disembodied or in the shape of
elephants. Locke's definition would make it a contingent
truth about people that some or all of them are either
embodied in, or are of, human form. But in the ordinary
use of the word "people," we do actually meet people and
shake hands with them; we do not meet the fleshy houses
in which they are living or the containers in which they
are kept. Nor is it logically possible for cougars (or par-
rotsl) to be people. It is in short a necessary truth that
people are of human shapes and sizes; and, not a con-
tingent fact that some or all people inhabit human bodies
or are of human form.
This is not to say that all talk of disembodied people
(or even parrot people) must always and necessarily be
self-contradictory. It may perhaps be that the word "peo-
ple" is being used in a radically unusual sense by those
who wish to point out an analogy between the behaviour
of people and some situations in which no people are pres-
ent. This is a perfectly respectable method of adding to
our language, a method which only becomes dangerous
when it is not understood, when it is thought that "per-
son" in the new sense has the same meaning, the same
logical liaisons, as "person" in the old, familiar sense.
Locke himself admitted that his distinction between
"man," which he used in substantially its ordinary sense,
6 Reid. op. cit., III, 6.
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 167
and "person," which he wants to use in a sense which
would allow the possibility of disembodiment or embodi-
ment, in different (or even non-human) bodies, is not
made in ordinary language: "I know that, in the ordinary
way of speaking, the same person, and the same man stand
for one and the same thing" (Essay, II, XXVII, 15).
But though Locke did unguardedly admit this, he
failed to realize how impoItant this admission was and
what its implications are. If you use "person" in a new
sense, in a way other than the ordinary, then you wreck
your chances of producing a descriptive analysis of "same
person." And it was this which, most of the time, Locke
has to be construed as trying to do: "we must consider
what /Jerson stands for" he tells us, in introducing his
definition of "person"; and he rounds off his account of the
meaning of "same person" with the comment, "as every-
one who reflccts will perceive" (Essay, II, XXVII, 11 and
17)·

v. PERSONS, UNLIKE MEN, THOUGHT OF

AS INCORPOREAL

This attempt to make a fundamental distinction be-

tween "same man" and "same person" demands investi-
gation. Why does Locke want to do it?
1. First, we can find certain nuances of English idiom
which might suggest a distinction of this kind. For in-
stance it would be slightly more natural to use "man"
when referring to physical characteristics and "person"
when referring to psychological ones: Charles Atlas and
the Army offer to make a new man of you; the Pelman
Institute, or your psychoanalyst, are more likely to prom-
ise that you would be an altogether different person after
a course of their treatment. But this is the merest nuance,
for when Robert Browning wrote:
There they are, my fifty men and women
Naming me my fifty poems finished I
168 Antony Flew
he was dedicating a collection of character sketches. A
slightly more promising temptation lies in phrases like
"Our Claude is quite a different person since he went away
to school." As we are quite sure that he is really the same
boy, the same person, as in fact we should only say some-
one was quite a different person (in this sense) if we were
sure he was the same person (in the ordinary sense), we
may become inclined to make our point by saying that the
same man mayor may not be the same person.
Then again there are in our language, and in many
others, the embedded traces of what was once a scientific
hypothesis, the hyppthesis of possession. This degenerated
into a mere alternative idiom through the addition of so
many qualifications ("But it is an invisible spirit," and so
on) that it no longer risked falsification. It thus ceased to
be an hypothesis at all. Instead of saying, "He drove
wildly," or "Why on earth did he do it?" we can say "He
drove like a man possessed" or "Whatever possessed him
to do it?" And this sometime hypothesis and present dead
metaphor has even now perhaps not altogether lost its
seductive power. Certainly it had not when Locke wrote.
For, noticing that we do not punish "the mad man for the
sober man's actions" he thought that this, "is somewhat
explained by our way of speaking in English when we say
such an one is 'not himself', or is 'beside himself'; in which
phrases it is insinuated, as if those who now, or at least
first used them, thought that self was changed; the self-
same person was no longer in that man" (Essay, II, XXVII,
20).
2. This suggests a second reason for Locke's distinction
between a man and a person. Locke seems to have as-
sumed that there is one single necessary and sufficient
condition of moral and legal responsibility. But he notices
cases where he does not want to blame or punish someone
who in some sense seems to have been the agent who did
the wrong or criminal action. For instance, he docs not
want a madman to be punished for what he did before he
went mad; and he does not want to blame people for ac-
tions which they simply cannot remember having done.
So then, instead of saying that the person in question did
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 16<)
do whatever it was but he is not to be held responsible, or
at least not fully responsible, because he is now amnesic or
insane, Locke distinguishes the man from the person, an-
nouncing that the word "person!' is a "forensic term, ap-
propriating 'actions and their merit" (Essay, II, XXVII,
26). This opens up for him the possibility of saying in
some troubling case that blame or punishment would be
here improper because we have before us only the same
man and not the same person as did the deed.
3. The third basis for Locke's distinction between the
man and the person was his Platonic-Cartesian conviction
that people essentially are incorporeal spirits, and that hu-
man bodies in fact are controlled by internal shadow be-
ings in ways similar to, but much less intelligible than,
that in which ships are directed by their captains or ve-
hicles by their drivers: "For I presume it is not the idea
of a thinking or rational being alone that makes the idea
of man in most people's sense; but of a body so and so
shaped joined to it . . ."; but, though the idea of man
thus involves the body as well, the essential person is the
thinking or rational being which is not necessarily of hu-
man shape or even corporeal (Essay, II, XXVII, 10: italics
original). Or, again, "if the identity of soul alone makes
the same man; and there be nothing in the nature of mat-
ter why the same individual spirit may not be united to
different bodies, it will be possible that . . . men living in
distant ages . . . may have been the same man: which way
of speaking must be from a very strange use of the word
man, applied to an idea out of which body and shape are
excluded" (Essay, II, XXVII, 7: italics supplied). Which
is all very well, but still takes for granted that people are
souls; which, presumably, conceivably could thus trans-
migrate.
This is not the place either fully to characterize or gen-
erally to assail the Platonic-Cartesian view of man. 7 But
it is worthwhile to devote some space to showing how
fundamental and how important this view was for Locke,
7 For such more thorough treatment see G. Ryle. The Con-
cept of Mind, London, 1949, perhaps comparing A. G. N. Flew
(editor), Body, Mind, and Death, New York, 1964.
170 Antony Flew
and how little inclined he was seriously to question it. For
it is a view presupposed by his whole account of personal
identity; while the impossibility of that account should
itself in turn be seen as one of the most powerful objec-
tions against that view of the nature of man. 8
Locke's first concern in the Essay is to prove that we
have no surreptitious access to black-market ideas, but are
properly confined to getting our supplies through the offi-
cial channels of post-natal waking experience. He claims at
one point: "We know certainly, by experience, that we
sometimes think; and thence draw this infallible conse-
quence-that there is something in us which has the power
to think" (Essay, II, I, 10:'italics original). The conclusion
of this lamentable argument opens up precisely the pos-
sibility which Locke is most concerned to close. For the
word "thinking" is being used in the Cartesian sense, in
which to think is to have any sort of conscious experience.
Now, if our thinking is done by some possibly incorporeal
internal thinking thing, then it becomes natural to ask
whether it can do any thinking without our knowledge;
whether perhaps it may not sometimes slip out to have
some experiences on its own, maybe taking up station for
the purpose inside some alien body. All of which sugges-
tions, colourfully presented as the hypothetical doings of
Socrates, Castor, Pollux or their several souls are then
duly considered by Locke (II, XXVII, 13-15).
Yet the "infallible consequence" which here sets off
these bizarre speculations is not validly drawn. For though
we do undoubtedly know that "we sometimes think" this
has not the slightest tendency to show that this thinking
is done by "something in us which has the power to think."
Quite the reverse. The argument derives what little plausi-
bility it has from the tacit assumption that everything we
do is done with some special organ. But this is false. We
write with our hands, certainly. But we do not decide, or
sleep, or fret with special organs of deciding, sleeping, or
fretting. It is the same with .thinking, both in the ordinary
8 Compare A. M. Quinton "The Soul," The Journal of Phi-
losophy, 1962, and A. G. N. Flew" 'The Soul' of Mr. A. M.
Quinton," The Journal of Philosophy, 1963.
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 171

and in the wide Cartesian sense. Thinking, like sleeping

and deciding, is an "affection of the whole man." It would
be pleasant to believe that Locke was beginning to realize
this when he wrote: "But whether sleeping without dream-
ing be not an affection of the whole man, mind as well as
body, may be worth a waking man's consideration . . ."
(Essay, II, I, 11).
4. One aspect of the Platonic-Cartesian view of man
deserves special separate mention. It is that it provides
something which may plausibly be held both to survive a
man's death and to be accountable, on the "Great Day,"
for his deeds upon earth. Now to be justly accountable,
here or hereafter, for a murder you have to be the same
person as the villain who did the murder; tlwt is the nec-
essary, though by no means the sufficient, condition of full
responsibility. But if you attach the customary sense to
"person," this necessary condition can never be satisfied
by anyone who died before the "Great Day." For he will
simply not exist to be to any degree responsible. He will
have died and been buried. Nor can the situation be saved
merely by producing an indistinguishable person to stand
his trial. For "one thing cannot have two beginnings of
existence, nor two things one beginning . '.' That, there-
fore, that had one beginning, is the same thing; and that
which had a different beginning in time and place from
that, is not the same, but diverse" (Essay, II, XXVII, 1).
Locke therefore, committed as he was to beliefs both in
immortality and in a just reckoning on "that Great Day,"
had a very strong reason-or perhaps it should be called a
motive, for insisting that "person" unlike "man" may refer
to something incorporeal. For while it is immediately ob-
vious that a person in the everyday sense, a person such as
we can meet face to face in the streets, (logically) cannot
survive bodily death and dissolution, it may perhaps seem
at first sight conceivable that a person, in the sense of a
series of experiences linked together in some subtle gap-
indifferent way, or in the sense of a "thing which is sensible
or conscious of pleasure and pain, capable of happiness or
misery," might survive, and be the bearer of responsibility
172 Antony Flew
for what that same person (in a new and rather peculiar
sense) did "in the body." There are appalling difficulties
in the logic of such new senses of "person" and "same
person," which we do not have to discuss here. 9
Yet it is both relevant and worthwhile to draw attention
to Locke's achievement in uncovering some of these diffi-
culties. He himself did not see clearly what, or how great,
or how numerous they are. This was partly because he
thought he was defining the ordinary sense of "person." He
therefore saw no difficulty in making a "disembodied per-
son" (that is a person in some new sense) the same as
(and thus possibly accountable for the actions of) some
person who had lived at a previous date (some person,
that is. in the old sense). Partly again it was because,
since he thought he had successfully found in memory
what Hume called the "uniting principle, which consti-
tutes a person," he could scarcely be expected simultane-
ously to realize that memory can only discover and not
constitute personal identity (in any sense of "person").
Partly, finally, it was for the simple reason that this terri-
tory Locke had entered was too vast and too difficult for
any single explorer to open up immediately.
Locke had to struggle to his insights through a rank
growth of bafHing terms, such as, "immaterial substances,"
"selves," "thinking substances," "rational souls." The in-
sights which he did achieve are the more remarkable inas-
much as a critic of the calibre of Bishop Butler failed to
see that the subject presented difficulties, complaining of
the "strange perplexities" that had been raised: "Whether
we are to live in a future state, as it is the most important
question which can possibly be asked, so it is the most in-
telligible one which can be expressed in language" (§ 1).
Locke, had he lived to read the dissertation Of Personal
Identity would have agreed about the supreme importance
of the question. But he might, very reasonably, have asked
for some solution of those "strange perplexities" of the
puzzle cases before being prepared to concede that things
really were all quite so straightforward as Butler thought.
9 But see Quinton and Flew, 01'. cit., n. 8.
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 173
5. A fifth source of Locke's unhappy analysis of per-
sonal identity lies in his un-Lockean assurription that we
can find a definition such that, granted we are provided
with all the relevant factual data, we shall be able to say
in every actual or imaginable case whether or not the ex-
pression "same person" can correctly .be applied. This as-
sumption is mistaken.
(a) Doubt may be thrown upon it in three ways. First,
it is unsettling to see the troubles of those who have tried
to fulfil such a requirement. Locke offered one such candi-
date definition, with the unfortunate results already ex-
amined. Berkeley, more prudently, refrained deliberately
from the attempt. In the Philosophical Commentaries he
reminds himself "carefully to omit defining of Person, or
making much mention of it" (Entry 713). This good ad-
vice he resolutely follows throughout his published works,
with the significant exception of a passage in the eighth
section of Book VII of the Alciphron. There he challenges
the minute philosophers to, "untie the knots and answer
the questions which may be raised even about human per-
sonal identity" before requiring, "a clear and distinct idea
of person in relation to the Trinity": a very typical piece
of Berkeleian intellectual judo.
(b) Second, this assumption overlooks the possibilities
of vagueness, of the marginal cases in which we do not
quite know where to draw the line. Most words referring
to physical objects are vague in some direction; somewhere
there is an undemarcated frontier; somewhere there is a
no man's land of indeterminacy; often there is a complete
encircling penumbra of perplexity. And this is and must
be so because nature has no natural kinds: "God made the
spectrum, man makes the pigeonholes." It was Locke him-
self who launched attack after attack on the superstitions
of real essences and natural kinds. It is he himself who
points again and again to the specimens which wiII not fit
properly into any available category. It is he who points to
the vagueness even of the term "man." It is he who draws
attention to the changelings who are "something between
a man and a beast," he too who tells us the story of the
Abbot Malotru who was so monstrous at his birth that "he
174 Antony Flew
was baptized and declared a man provisionally," and Locke
again who insists that "There are creatures ... that, with
language and reason and a shape in other things agreeing
with ours, have hairy tails; others where the males have no
beards, and others where the females have" (Essay, IV,
IV, 13 and III, VI, 26 and 22).
Nevertheless, despite all this, Locke never seems to en-
tertain the possibility that "person," "rational being,"
"soul," "Immaterial spirit," "self," and the rest of the
words and expressions alleged to refer to the putative and
elusive internal population of the body, may be affected
in the same way; This failure shows up most strikingly
when he argues that no external shape is an infallible sign
that there is a rational soul inside: "Where now (I ask)
shall be the just measure; which is the utmost bounds of
that shape which carries with it a rational soul?" He points
out once again "all the several degrees of mixture of the
likeness of a man or a brute," and demands: "What sort
of outside is the certain sign that there is or is not such an
inhabitant within?" Finally he complains: "we talk at
random of man; and shall always, I fear, do so, as long as
we give ourselves up to certain sounds, and the imagina-
tions of settled and fixed species in nature, we know not
what . . . So necessary is it to quit the common notion of
species and essences, if we wiII truly look into the nature
of things .. ." (Essay, IV, IV, 16). Yet he himself is an
the while assuming as it were a real essence of the rational
souls, a fixed species or natural kind of the people who
inhabit some, though we cannot always ten which, of these
men and near men whom we meet.
(c) Third, since our ordinary language, and the con-
cepts of ordinary language, have been evolved or intro-
duced to deal with the situations which are ordinarily met
with, and not with the extraordinary, we may reasonably
expect some failures of adaptation when new and unex-
pected situations arise. And these do in fact occur. The
old conceptual machinery breaks down. The old termino-
logical tools fail to cope with the new tasks. These break-
downs are different from the cases in which indecision
arises from the vagueness of a term. "Ship" is perhaps a
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 175
vague tenn in that a whole spectrum of similarity stretches
between things which are certainly ships, via the things
which provoke linguistic hesitation, to other things which
are undoubtedly boats. But when a court has to decide
whether the word "ship" in a statute covers Hying boats,
the difficulty arises: not so much from the vagueness of
the tenn "ship" (that would imply that the drafting of the
statute was bad and could perfectly well have been im-
proved); but from what has been called its open-texture.
The concept which we have has in fact evolved to cover
the situations that have arisen before or were thought
likely to arise, and not the situations which have not arisen
and could not have been foreseen. Vagueness could have
been removed by prescribing that nothing under so many
tons was to count as a ship within the meaning of the act:
"To remove vagueness is to outline the penumbra of a
shadow. The line is there after we have drawn it and not
before." But it is not possible "to define a concept like
gold with absolute precision, i.e. in such a way that every
nook and cranny is blocked against the entry of doubt.
That is what is meant by 'open texture' of a con~ept."10
It is this open texture much more than any actual vague-
ness in use which prevents the definition of "person."
By imagining, fully two centuries before the foundation
of the Society for Psychical Research, a series of puzzle
cases which leave us at a loss as to whether or not to apply
the expression "same person," Locke revealed what he did
not himself see, that it is not possible to define the mean-
ing of "same person" descriptively and at the same time
give a definition which will answer all ,possible problems of
application. This is not possible because there is no usage
established for many of these unforeseen situations.
Therefore no such proper usage can be described. In cases
such as Locke produces we can only admit that we don't
know what to say; and then perhaps prescribe what is to
be the proper usage if such cases do occur or recur. It is
not possible to produce even a prescriptive definition
which will give absolute security against all possibility of
10 F. Waismann, "Verifiability" in Logic and Language (First
Series), ed. A. G. N. Flew, Blackwell 1951.
176 Antony Flew
surprise and indecision. Locke produced a definition of
"same person" which enabled him to give an answer to all
the puzzle cases which he imagined. Let someone appear
who seemed to remember the Noah's flood as clearly and
accurately as he remembered last year's overflowing of the
Thames. If we accepted Locke's definition, then clearly
we could and should say without hesitation that he had
been present at Noah's flood: an answer which, assuming
that he had been born in this century, would be false. But
no prescription can give absolute determinacy. Locke did
not, and could not, imagine all the possibilities. Suppose,
what is not merely conceivable but imaginable, that a per-
son splits like an amoeba-first into two Siamese twins-
then separating into two identical twins. And suppose
both twins, call them Al and Az, can remember all that
the original person, cail him A, could remember before his
unfortunate and disruptive experience. On Locke's defini-
tion Al and Az will both be the same person as A, and yet
they will obviously be different people, just as are identical
twiris. Clearly we should not know what to say. This pre-
posterous supposition will serve to show that it is not
possible to produce either a descriptive or a prescriptive
definition of "same person" which shall remove every pos-
sibility of linguistic perplexity. We can prescribe against
vagueness, but then there is always the open texture
through which forever threatens the insidious infiltration
of the unforeseeable and the unforeseen.

VI. CONCLUSIONS

The search for the talismanic definition which shall

solve all possible problems, the search for the real essence
of personal identity, was therefore a mistake. Why did
Locke make it? It involved, as we have seen, an abandon-
ment of his greatest insight and a betrayal of the glorious
revolution he was leading against the superstition of real
essences and natural kinds. However, it is just as easy to
fail to apply a new discovery consistently as it is to push
it to absurd extremes. We smile at the man who tells us:
Locke and the Problem of Personal Identity 177
"I'm an atheist now, thank Godl" But we all fall into
similar inconsistencies. So there is every reason to expect
with the notoriously inconsistent Locke, what we do in
fact find, a failure to see all the implications of, and to
apply thoroughly and systematically, his own discoveries.
Then we remember those long struggles that had to be
fought, and which still drag on in some intellectual back-
woods, before the doctrine of evolution was allowed to
include, without reservation, our own species. We remem-
ber the bitter rear-guard actions, arguing for a special
creation for this one most favoured species. We can see
still in Rome the final forlorn hope to save the special
creation of souls to inhabit the bodies which have at last
been conceded to be the most recent results of the evolu-
tionary process. In the light of all this, it no longer seems
surplising that Locke, living two centuries before the fa-
mous Victorian battles over the origin of species, failed to
take his great insight into the enclosure reserved for the
ghostly company of "rational souls," "persons," and "think-
ing substances."
Anotlter source of the inability to see that questions
may be asked about personal identity to which there can
be no true or false answer (until and unless a new deci-
sion, which may be wise or unwise, is made about what is
to be proper usage) lies in the familiar fact tltat people
often know things about their pasts which they conceal
from other people. We tend, being aware of this familiar
truth, to assume that all questions about the identity of
persons are always wholly factual, susceptible of straight
true or false answers, long after we have realized that
questions as to whether tltis is or is not the same thing
may sometimes not be so straightforward. We feel that
the person in question must himself always know-yes or
no-whether he is the same person as the man who broke
the bank at Monte Carlo. Even if we canpot discover the
answer because he will not tell us or because we do not
trust him, even if he protests tltat he does not know, still
we assume that if he could (seem to himself to) remem-
ber that would settle the issue definitively.
We are not, obviously, inclined to think that the thing
178 Antony Flew
could tell us if it wanted to: but we do tend to think that
the person could, and, if he did, that would be that:
"Wherever a man finds what he calls himself, there, I
think, ancther may say is the same person" (Essay, II,
XXVII, 26). And "should the soul of a prince, carrying with
it the consciousness of the prince's past life, enter and
inform the body of a cobbler . . . everyone sees he would
be the same person with the prince . . ." (Essay, II, XXVII,
15: italics original). And so, confident that the subject
must always know whether or not he is the same person,
just as he always has the last word as to whether or not he
is in pain, Locke proceeds to give his disastrous definition
of personal identity; quite overlooking the facts of amnesia
and paramnesia which show decisively that personal iden-
tity is in this respect not like pain. The honest testimony
of the subject is not with personal identity as it is with
pain the last word. But the fact that it is such very good
evidence, combined with the fact that we are all all too
familiar with human reticence and deceit, misleads us into
thinking that it is.
To sum up. We outlined Locke's contribution to the
study of the philosophic problem of personal identity,
and showed that his central answer was wrong. We then
enquired at length into the sources of his mistakes, find-
ing five; first, a series of confusions about memory; sec-
ond, his muddled and slippery use of the term "conscious-
ness"; third, the failure rigidly to distinguish the meaning
of statements from, what is so inseparably connected with
it, their methods of verification; fourth, the view that "per-
son" refers to some bodiless and intangible inhabitant of
the dark room of the understanding (Essay, II, XI, 17)
rather than to people like those we meet in everyday life;
and, fifth, the assumption that there is some real essence
of personal identity, that it is possible to produce a defini-
tion and a definition furthermore which can guard us
against every threat of future linguistic indecision. We
neither began nor intended to begin to tackle the problem
itself; it was a sufficient, and very Lockean, task to clear
the ground of a few obstructions and to point out some of
the dangers which beset the road.
 LOCKE'S POLITICAL THEORY AND
ITS INTERPRETERS
CHARLES H. MONSON, JR.

One of the more interesting phenomena of recent philo-

sophical scholarship has been the interest shown in John
Locke. More than a dozen major works have appeared
during the past twenty-five years and the spate of articles,
on all aspects of his thought, increases every year. But,
coincidentally there has been a reassessment of the ap-
plicability of traditional democratic principles to a com-
plex industrialized society; hence much of the interest in
Locke, understandably, has centred on his political theory.
But some writers, when they return to Locke, have
failed to find the natural rights, natural law, contract
theory of the state so apparent to their eighteenth-century
counterparts. Rather, they have found a theory they de-
scribe, variously, as advocating egoism, absolute subordi-
nation to majority rule, capitalism, anarchy, the denial of
natural law, Hobbesianism, or the absence of natural
rights. These writers, careful scholars and systematic think-
ers all, challenge the traditional interpretation of Locke,
and in a larger sense, the traditional justification for demo-
cratic government. Hence, a careful scrutiny of their re-
ports on Locke's real, but as yet misunderstood, political
theory seems to be in order.
From Political Studies, Vol. VI (1958), under the title "Locke
and His Interpreters." Reprinted by permission of the author and
the Clarendon Press, Oxford.
180 Charles H. Monson, lr.

The most recent, the most scholarly, and the most de-
fensible of the 'non-traditional' interpretations is in Leo
Strauss's Natural Right and History.1 For purposes of
analysis, his account can be reduced to three assertions:
first, Locke is not a natural law theorist; second, he is a
Hobbesian; and third, his egoism is also demonstrated by
his account of property rights.
Strauss argues that Locke cannot be a natural law theo-
rist, for he gives no account of how men know the law of
nature. He could have said either reason or revelation, but
there are no philosophical theories in the Second Treatise 2
and his other works provide no definite answers either.
Moreover, the first alternative is unacceptable because ra-
tional knowledge also requires proof of God's existence and
human immortality, proofs which Locke says are not de-
monstrable, hence 'natural reason is unable to know the
law of nature as a law'.3 At best, he accepted a 'partial'
law of nature, moral rules which correspond to Scriptural
injunctions, but his rules, when analysed, are not identical
with those of Jesus. Hence, Locke does not adequately ac-
count for man's knowledge of natural law and this shows
that he 'cannot have recognized any law of nature in the
proper sense of the term'.4
In the last analysis this argument asserts that you can
teU what one knows only if he tells you how he obtained
his knowledge; an interesting, if dubious, assumption
which Strauss makes no effort to justify even though his
whole argument rests on its validity. But, no matter; grant
the assumption and, moreover, grant that Locke did not
provide an adequate explanation, still it does not follow
that he was not aware of the problem. In the Second Trea-
t University of Chicago Press, 1953. A condensed version ap·
peared in The Philosophical Review, Oct. 1952.
2 Ibid., p. 220.
S Ibid., pp. 203-4. But see Essay, Book IV, chapter 10.
4 Ibid., p. ::/.20.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 181

tise he explicitly asks himself how the law of nature can

be known and he answers:
Yet, it is certain there is such a law and that, too,
as intelligible and plain to a rational creature and a
studier of that law as the positive laws of common~
wealths; nay, possibly plainer, as much as reason is
easier to be understood than the fancy and intricate
contrivances of man.
And again: the law of nature can be understood by men
'who will but consult reason'. Or again: by men 'who will
not renounce reason'. And still again: by men 'who live
according to reason'.5 Locke, then, did provide an explana-
tion and his answer makes Strauss's extended criticisms of
knowledge by revelation both irrelevant and misleading.
But Strauss, a careful scholar, no doubt was aware of
the many places in which Locke says that natural law can
be known by reason. Why, then, did he reject these ex-
plicit statements? The answer seems to be: they are not
enough. \Ve must know more about reason's competence
and in The Reasonableness of Christianity Locke says that
reason cannot prove Cod's existence. Therefore, Strauss's
argument seems to be: reason cannot know of God's exist-
ence, and natural law comes from God, so reason cannot
know natural law, and Locke cannot have meant what he
said.
This method of argument requires several comments.
First, Strauss goes outside the Treatise because he is con-
vinced that it contains no philosophical theories, only
'civil' ones; a highly debatable point which, again, he
makes no attempt to justify. Second, his choice of the
Reasonableness as the main source for defining reason's
competence is unfortunate, for the work is not primarily
concerned with this problem (as was the Essay, for in-
stance) and it was a product of Locke's later life, a time
when he was more interested in religion than political
theory. But, most important, it does not reflect the posi-
5 Second Treatise on Civil Government, Appleton Century
edn., 1937, sees. 12, 6, 11, 19. See also sees. 30, 32 , 56, 57,
63, &e.
r..
182 Charles H. Monson, lr.
tion Locke takes in the Treatise, for there he asserts, more
than twenty times, that reason can know natural law. Yet
not once does he suggest that one must prove God's exist-
ence in order to have this knowledge.
Locke himself points backwards, not forwards, from the
Treatise for the fuller explanation. He does not say that
he will exami~e the subject more carefully at some future
time; rather, he quotes from Hooker and other natural
law writers and he suggests, in both the Treatise and the
early Essays, that they have dealt with the subject more or
less satisfactorily. If the Treatise lacks philosophical co-
gency, this results from unstated assumptions rather than
undeveloped omissions, for Locke believed that when God
created man, He gave him the means, natural law and
natural reason, as guides and, if man 'will but use his rea-
son, he will know [the Jaw of nature] which directs a free
and intelligent agent to his proper interest'.6
Strauss contends that Locke is really a Hobbesian be-
cause he recognizes no normative law of nature and, on
the contrary, frequently asserts egoism and selfishness as
men's primary motivation. In the Essay Locke says: 'Na-
ture has put into man a desire for happiness, and an aver-
sion to misery; these are, indeed, innate practical prin-
ciples.' Or, as Strauss restates it: 'The desire for happiness
and the pursuit of happiness have the character of an
absolute right, a natural right.' This 'right of nature is
more fundamental than the law of nature' and since each
person is interested in his own happiness, 'the most funda-
mental of all rights is the right of self-preservation'.
Hence, 'Locke's theory can be understood perfectly, if
one assumes that the laws of nature are, as Hobbes put
it, "but conclusions or theorems concerning what conduces
to the conservation and defence" of man over against other
men.'7
This line of argument raises no question of scholarship,
for Locke does make such statements; the important ques-
tion is whether these statements are of central impor-
6 Treatise, sec. 57. For a further analysis, see Locke's Essays on
The Law of Nature, Oxford University Press, 1954.
7 Strauss, op. cit., pp. 226, 227, 229.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 183
tance. Here again we must note Strauss's impatience with
the Treatise, for he prefers other statements, this time
principally from the Essay, as the true indicators of
Locke's political theory.s The procedure, of course, is all
right if the same information could not be obtained from
the Treatise. But this claim cannot be supported, for, as
Strauss himself recognizes, the Treatise contains many
descriptive ethical statements.9
However, all of them do not stress egoism. Some do,
for instance: 'the sacred and unalterable law of self-
preservation'; 'the individual's unalterable right to pre-
serve his own property'; and his obligation to help others
'only when his own perservation comes not in competi-
tion'.10 But others do not, for instance: each individual
agrees to establish a government where 'the legislative will
make laws as the public good of the society shall require',
and he obeys a government only when it 'rules for the
public good of the people'.ll From a strictly textual analy-
sis, then, Locke does not have a consistent descriptive
theory and it might have been this very inconsistency
which drove Strauss to conclude that the fundamental
premiss is outside the Treatise.
But the evidence also indicates another conclusion, one
closer to Locke's own teaching. Every person should fol-
low 'the law of nature which willeth the peace and preser-
vation of all mankind' and some men do what they should
while others, indeed, 'the greater portion of mankind', do
not.1 2 Thus, descriptively some men are egoists, others
are not, and Locke's account of human motivation is ac-
curate, although inconsistent. But, in a more important
sense, normatively, none should be merely egoists, for each
has a natural obligation to preserve others, and a state can
S But even this hedonism is but a part of the more complex
(and confusing) ethical theory of this work. See Sterling Lam-
precht, The Moral and Political Philosophy of John Locke.
D See Strauss, pp. 2.2.7-3 0 •
10 Treatise, sees. 87, 123, 6. Also see secs. 2.5, 50, 94, 12.3,
137, 138, &c.
11 Ibid., secs. 87, 131, 183. Also see sees. 88, 96, 97, 99, 12.9,
130, &C.
12 Ibid., sec. 7.
184 Charles H. Monson, JT.
exist only if its legislators follow 'that eternal rule to all
men [which requires] the preservation of all mankind'.1 3
The ethical theory in the Treatise, then, is both consistent
and coherent; it is Strauss's method which is in error.14
Strauss considers Locke's few statements about property
rights 'the central part of his political teaching' and added
evidence for his Hobbesianism, for 'the natural right of
property is a corollary of the fundamental right of self-
preservation'.15 He concludes that Locke sanctions 'un-
limited appropriation without concern for the needs of
others' because the only limitation to appropriation, that
property should not be allowed to spoil, is removed in a
civil society, where 'with the invention of money. . . each
man can rightfully and without injury possess more than
he himself can make use of'. 'According to the Natural
Law [sic!]-and this means according to the moral law-
man in civil society may acquire as much property of every
kind and in particular as much money as he pleases.' Thus,
Locke's doctrine 'is directly intelligible today if it is taken
as the classic doctrine of "the spirit of capitalism", for by
building society on the low but solid ground of selfishness
13 Ibid., sec. 135.
14 Others have argued that Locke's nonnative law of nature
sanctions egoism, for in sec. 6, and elsewhere, Locke says one
should help others 'only when his own preservation comes not in
competition'. This interpretation has the advantage of combining
selfish interests with prudential obligations, the doctrine Strauss
explicitly rejects but implicitly accepts; but two considerations
can be brought against this position. First, there are only a few
statements in which the law of nature is said to justify selfishness
but there are over fifty references to its justifying concern for all
mankind; hence, the latter must represent Locke's considered
judgement and the fonner his inaccumte expression of it. Sec-
ond, on this view, an individual would never join a civil society if
he believed that most of his rights would be violated; but when
he does join, Locke says he agrees that 'the fundamental natural
law which is to govern even the legislative itself is the preserva-
tion of SOCiety and (as far as will consist with the public good)
of every person in it' (sec. 134). Hence, an individual might have
some, or most, or even all his rights violated and still accept the
action as justified because it preserves the society. Men's obliga-
tions, then, are moral, not merely prudential.
15 Strauss, op. cit., pp. 234-5.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 185
one will achieve greater public benefits than by futilely
appealing to virtue wlJ.ich is by nature unendowed'.16
The validity of Strauss's conclusion hinges on his es-
tablishing two points: first, that the right to acquire money
is removed from the spoilage principle; and second, that
this right is the archetype-and justification-for all prop-
erty rights.
. Locke's comments on money always have presented dif-
ficulties, for, on the one hand, he speaks of 'laying up',
'hoarding', 'heaping up', 'keeping', and 'possessing' money
rather than 'investing', 'increasing', or 'acquiring' it as a
good capitalist would. Moreover, he says money's chief
function is to facilitate the exchange of goods, for it is
'some lasting thing that man would take in exchange for
the truly useful but perishable supports of life'. And the
spoilage principle still operates, for 'a man may rightfully
and without injury possess more than he can make use of
because it may continue long in his possession without
decaying'.17 So, clearly, Locke did not intend to be a
capitalist.
Yet, one can rightfully ask what Locke would do with
his 'heaped up' money, and answer, with him, use it for
'a disproportionate and unequal possession of the earth';
for 'continueing and enlarging his possessions'.18 And
other tracts, written during the same period, espouse a re-
markably cogent' capitalist theory.19 So, clearly, Locke can
be made, quite easily, into a capitalist.
The evidence, then, is not conclusive and hence
Strauss's conclusion is not justified. But, the important
point is not textual, whether there are limits to the ac-
cumulation of money; rather, it is philosophical, whether
this account, now assumed to be correct, acts as prototype
and justification for all property rights. Is the right to ap-
propriate and retain property limited in any way?
If Locke on money is used to justify Locke on property,
16 Ibid., pp. 240, 241, 243, 246-7.
17 Treatise, op. cit., sees. 47, 50, 36. 18 Ibid., sees. 48, 50.
19 See C. B. Macpherson's 'Locke on Capitalist Appropria-
tion' in Western Political Quarterly, 1951, pp.' 5Scr-66, for an
interesting exposition of this view.
186 Charles H. Monson, Jr.
it is not remiss to note that money is mentioned in only
five of 'On Property's' twenty-six sections suggesting,
thereby, that Strauss is letting the tail wag the dog. More-
over, Locke frequently discusses property rights in other
chapters but never again refers to money; perhaps the tail
is wagging an elephant. Furthermore, it is simply not true
that Locke sanctions unlimited appropriation and inalien-
able property rights. Again, he is quite explicit. When the
legislature is not in session, the ruler may make laws for
the common good,
for many accidents may happen wherein a strict and
rigid observation of the laws may do harm (as not to
pull down an innocent man's house to stop the fire
when the next to it is burning) . . . the end of gov-
ernment being the preservation of all, as much as
may be.
lt is fit everyone who enjoys a share of protection
should payout of his estate his proportion for the
maintenance of it. But still it must be with his own
consent, i.e. the consent of the majority giving it
either by themselves or their representatives.
[When a man leaves the civil society] he must quit
the right which belongs to him by the laws of it and
leave the possessions there descending to him from
his ancestors. 20
Thus, an individual agrees to have his house destroyed,
his property confiscated, and his taxes decided by the ma-
jority because these acts preserve civil society. Locke makes
these assertions because he believes men have obligations
as well as rights, but Strauss ignores all such statements
because he is convinced that a 'civil society merely creates
the conditions under which individuals can pursue their
productive-acquisitive activity without obstruction', i.e.
men have no obligations. 21 Strauss's theory is interesting;
unfortunately, it is not Locke's.
This does not exhaust Strauss's account of property
rights or his total report on Locke, but it should be suffi-
cient to show that his interpretation is both misleading
20 Treatise, op. cit., sees. 159, 140, 191-
21 Strauss, op. cit., p. 2.46.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 187
and mistaken. Why has such a competent scholar made
such grievous mistakes? The answer is as simple as it is
obvious. The author of the definitive work on Hobbes's
political theory must have found it easy to assume that
Locke's presentation would be as rigorous and complete
as Hobbes's, so when he failed to find precise defini-
tions,22 logical acumen, or complete analyses in the Sec-
ond Treatise he felt compelled to scurry to Locke's other
writings to patch together a theory Locke might have used.
And when Locke's reconstructed natural law theory turned
out to be inadequate, what better premiss to assert as
basic than one which Locke occasionally suggests, and one
which Strauss already knew intimately-Hobbes's egoism.

II

Two other 'non-traditional' interpretations warrant

brief consideration. According to Willmoore Kendall,
Locke's fundamental premiss is in his account of com-
munity life, for
whenever men live in a community with one another,
the relations between them can be described in terms
which, in addition to assigning to the whole commu-
nity unlimited power, assigns to its numerical ma-
jority a right to make decisions which are binding
upon a11.28
Since 'the majority rule principle is, in a word, implicit in
the logic of community life', it follows that 'the common-
wealth's judgments are the individual's judgments whether
he agrees with them or not, i.e. they are the individual's
ludgments even when he consciously disagrees with
22 For instance, Locke stipulatively defines 'property' as: ( 1 )
'estate'; (2) 'lives, liberties, and estates'; (3) 'the property which
men have in their persons as well as their goods'; (4) 'life, liberty,
health, limb, and goods'; and (5) 'life, liberty, and limb'. See
sees. 12.3, 87, 173,6, 137, 171.
23 John Locke and the Doctrine of Majority Rule, Il1inois
University Studies in Social Sciences, Urbana, Il1inois, 1941, vol.
26, p. 112.. Italics in text.
188 Charles H. Monson, Jr.
them'.!!4 Men's rights, then, 'are such rights as are com-
patible with the public good which, in tum, is determined
by the majority' and Locke is really advocating an extreme
majority rule theory 'so authoritarian that no individualist
could conceivably accept it'.25
As with all 'nothing but' interpretations, the adequacy
of Kendall's account can be measured in two ways: is there
any important aspect of Locke's thought which cannot be
subsumed under the governing principle; and, does he
consistently maintain his own interpretation? On both
counts Kendall fails.
Consider the status of natural law. According to Ken-
dall, 'men have an unlimited competence to modify the
law of nature by agreement; for example: the agreement
among men "to put a value on" money means, if it means
anything at all, that the law of nature can be changed by
unanimous agreement'.26 Of course, the reference to una-
nimity does not necessarily support the claim for majority
rule, for an action may be binding under the latter but not
under the former. Moreover, this interpretation ignores
such explicit statements as: 'TIle law of nature does not
depend on the express consent on any of the common-
ers.'27 Finally, Kendall confuses man's interpretation of
the law with the law itself, man's understanding with
God's understanding; for Locke does not suggest that lm-
man agreements, even unanimous ones, can alter pre-
existent principles.
Or again, Kendall claims that when there is conflict
bctween the individual's right to retain property and the
community's right to use it, the spoilage principle re-
quires that one 'unhesitatingly sacrifice the former to the
latter'.28 Textually, Kendall is in error, for Locke makes
no such statement in the sections cited; in fact, in these
sections Locke repeatedly refers to a condition of plenty,
hence there would be no conflict of rights. And even if
there were, there is nothing in the spoilage principle to
24 Ibid., pp. 66, 105. Italics in text.
25 Ibid., pp. 112, 113. Also see pp. 58, 71, 78.
26 Ibid., pp. 84-85. 27 Treatise, op. cit., sec. 28.
28 Treatise, sees. 31-36; Kendall, op. cit., p. 71.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 189
suggest that Locke 'unhesitatingly' accepts the alternative
Kendall attributes to him. Indeed, why accept the spoilage
principle at all? Kendall does not claim that majority rule
is authoritative here; why, then, should one recognize its
authority?
In fact, Kendall does not really believe that Locke can
be squeezed into one principle. He begins his critique with
the pronouncement: 'We are not, be it noted, denying
that both -elements, indefeasible individual rights (~hich
are, of course, only a shorthand expression for objective
moral standards) and decision making power in the ma-
jority are present in Locke's system.'29 And this dualist
interpretation seems to reflcct his more considered judge-
ment, for his last chapter explains how the two elements
can be 'reconciled' .30 But if thcre are two, then the ma-
jority rule principle alone is- not sufficient: the best dis-
proof for Kendall's interpretation is Kendall himself.
Kendall sees Locke as asserting obligations and denying
rights; Charles E. Vaughan finds the positions reversed.
He considers Locke's account of natural law most impor-
tant, and since this law
proclaims itself to the heart of every individual, man
comes into the world with a ready made knowledge of
good and evil, a knowledge of his rights and obliga-
tions before he ever enters a civil society. [Therefore],
each person is entitled to dictate his will to the state;
to refuse his assent-and we can only conclude, his
obedience also-to any law or executive act which
does not square with the divinely ordained code
which each man finds written in his heart and which
he alone has the right to interpret.3t
Thus, Locke is 'The Prince of Individualists', for he
claims that individuals are bound by only those obliga-
29 Ibid., p. 54.
30 Ibid., pp. 133-5. His answer, for what it is worth, is that
Locke held a 'latent premise' that the proposition 'right is that
which the majority wills' is equivalent to the proposition 'the
majority always wills what is right'.
31 Studies in the History of Political Philosophy, Manchester
University Press, 1925, vol. i, pp. 164, 171-2.
G*
190 Charles H. Monson, Jr.
tions they choose to recognize. Or, to restate but two of
the implications:
Taxation, as commonly understood, is in no way to
be justified.
The only kind of war which can be justified on
Locke's premises is the war pro aris et focis: the war
waged by the individual against a savage invader in
defense of bare life and personal property. All other
forms of war demand the sacrifice of individual life
and property to the welfare of the state. And this is a
demand which no state framed on Locke's principles
has a right to make; and which, if made, no individ-
ual in his senses would dream of accepting. 82
Vaughan is more shrewd than Kendall, for instead of
reinterpreting every statement as an instance of the basic
principle, he simply admits Locke's diversity-and then
accuses him of inconsistency. When Locke says a citizen
should pay taxes, join others in fighting a war, agree to
have his house destroyed, or abide by majority rule,
Vaughan reports the claimed obligations and then says
Locke did not clearly understand his own doctrine. Ac-
cordingly one cannot dispute Vaughan with documenta-
tion; he claims that these instances have nothing to do
with Locke's real theory. But one can point out the im-
plication: if men have no civil obligations, and fully three-
fourths of the Second Treatise is concerned with man's
rights and obligations in civil society, then most of Locke's
political philosophy never should have been written or,
since it was, should never be read, if his real theory is to
be understood.
However, Vaughan's basic candour leads him to state,
succinctly, the crucial problem for his interpretation.
Locke is the Prince of Individualists only if every individ-
ual qua individual has complete knowledge of the law of
nature, for
either the law of nature is not so effective an instru-
ment as you would have us believe for curbing the
82 Treatise, pp. 183, 198.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 191

passions of man and securing his peace and welfare,

or the change from the state of nature to the civil so-
ciety is an unnecessary, and therefore, an unwarranted
revolution. 33
Vaughan accepts the second alternative, for if every per-
son has the sole right to interpret the law, he has no ob-
ligation to obey a civil society which interprets it for him;
therefore, Locke's civil society is unnecessary and unwar-
ranted.
But Locke's own account is closer to the first. The state
of nature is full of 'fears and continual dangers', 'great in-
conveniences', 'mutual grievances, injuries, and wrongs'; in
fact, without government, the law of nature is largely in-
effectual.34 Some people do not understand its provisions;
others cannot apply the rules to specific cases; still others
are tom between conflicting obligations; and many simply
do not do what they should. There is no 'common and
uniform' interpretation of the law, no clear understanding
of one's rights and obligations, hence men do not come to
civil society with 'a fully developed moral sense', but pre-
cisely because they lack that sense. Hence, civil society is
both necessary and justified; indeed, if it were not, politi-
cal philosophy would be futile.
Vaughan's writing is persuasive, his logic tenacious, but
he commits one fundamental error: he confuses the how
with the what. He argues that since the law of nature is
known only by an individual, the individual's interpreta-
tion is justified-and inalienable. But the argument is
purely formal, for if natural law sanctioned watching sun-
sets or eating gollywompus meat, Vaughan's conclusion
still holds, since only an individual can decide how many
sunsets or how much meat. For Locke, however, the con-
tent of natural law, the moral rples men should recognize,
is of most importance, for these injunctions provide the
basis for understanding the rights and obligations neces-
sary to a civil society.
33 Studies, pp. 165-6. Also see pp. 158-61, 2.01.
84 Treatise, op. cit., sees. 90, 91, 12.7.
192 Charles H. Monson, Jr.

III

In addition to their specific errors, these interpreters

share a common misconception: that Locke's theory can
be reduced to a simple 'nothing but' principle. Actually,
his theory is exceedingly complex. This can be seen best
by reducing all his assertions to their logical components.
1. Consent. Locke tells us that his purpose is to 'justify'
the revolution restoring Parliamentary rule to England.
To do so, he denies that the right to rule comes from God,
the Divine Right of Kings theory, but affirms that it does
come from the voluntary consent of the governed. His
chief purpose, then, as many writers have said, was to
establish a democratic theory of sovereignty whereby gov-
ernment would be made responsible to its citizens and
hence not rule 'arbitrarily'.
1.1. However, this claim requires the prior assumption
that citizens have a right to choose their rulers. How is
this right justified? Obviously it is not a right granted by
existent rulers, for they might not rule with consent; de
facto is not identical with de iure rule. The right, there-
fore, must exist independently of political authority; it is a
'natural' right, a claim that man qua man enjoys.
1.2. Man, therefore, must have a logical, if not physi-
cal, pre-political existence: the 'state of nature'. In this
condition each individual has the right to seek his own
preservation, but he also has the obligation to help to pre-
serve, or at least not to hinder, the preservation of other
men.
1.3. These 'natural' rights and duties are justified in
two ways:
1. 31. All life is created, and destroyed, by God; hence
He must desire the continued existence of all living
beings.
1.32. By means of eternal moral rules, 'laws of nature',
He has told men how they should treat each other: they
should seek the preservation of all mankind.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 193

1.4. Government by consent, then, is simply the best

way for an individual to fulfil his 'natural' rights and
obligations.
1.5. Any government so established has the right to
interpret the law of nature for specific cases and every
citizen has an obligation to obey its laws.
2. Freedom. In addition to the existence and authority
of independent moral principles, Locke utilized several
meanings of 'freedom'.
:u. If men should not, but can, ignore the dictates of
natural law, they have the ability to choose: in traditional
terms, men possess 'free will'.
2.2. The right of self-preservation allows each freely to
'appropriate' property. Each may justifiably aggregate as
much as he desires, provided only that he should neither
acquire it by 'invading' his neighbour's share nor allow
it to spoil. The right to free appropriation leads to:
2.21. The labour theory of value, for nature's bounty
acquires value only when someone 'mixes' his labour with
it; and
2.22. A laissez faire economic theory, for the right to
property depends upon one's own efforts, each being re-
sponsible for his own preservation. Government has no
obligation to provide for the slackers.
2.3. The distinction between de facto and de jure rule
requires an opportunity to choose if the ;right is not merely
formal. Locke attaches such importance to this that he
provides for three such opportunities.
2.31. Men must believe that the limitations imposed
by government are less onerous than anarchy. Most will
reach this conclusion because of past experience, but those
who choose anarchy when thcir neighbours form a gov-
ernment are not bound by the others' decision.
2.32. Those who prefer government still must choose
its form. This involves:
2.321. An agreement about procedures, for until all can
concur in a method for making decisions, no justified de-
cisions can be made. Locke identifies this agreement with
majority rule (although he says other mutually acceptable
procedures could be justified) and, presumably, it is a
194 Charles H. Monson, Jr.
unanimous accord, for nothing in 2.31 makes the ma-
jority's decision to accept majority rule binding upon all.
And,
2.322. An agreement about people. Once the proce-
dures have been accepted by all, the particular legislators
can be chosen.
2.33. But even these two instances of voluntary con-
sent are not sufficient, for the final test of any government
is experience. In time, some may prefer the terrors of an-
archy to the tyranny of the majority; hence the govern-
ment's right to rule must be measured, continuously,
against its purpose for ruling; government by consent al-
lows the perpetual potential right to revolution.
2.34. For those born after government's establishment,
the first two opportunities are supplanted by the doctrine
of implied consent, but the continual right to reassess the
government's achievements remains unaltered.
2.4. These agreements are identical with a contractual
relation wherein the parties' rights and obligations are
clearly recognized and mutually accepted.
3. Equality. Locke's theory also uses the concept of
equality; again, in several senses.
3.1. Since God makes no distinctions among men, He
must consider all to be of equal moral worth, hence His
law admonishes men to seek both their own preservation
and the preservation of others. This rule applies:
3.11. When there is no governmental force to ensure
its recognition, and
3.12. When government does exist and the law can be
enforced.
3.121. Legislators should always recognize this general
moral rule when making laws and hence should not rule
'arbitrarily' or against the 'public good'.
3-122. An individual cannot justify revolution by claim-
ing abrogation of his own rights; only a claimed violation
of the rights of the majority gives sufficient reason for one
to consider rebellion.
3.2. Each man's right to self-preservation allows him to
appropriate property; his obligation to others limits his
appropriation to what will not spoil. All, then, have an
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 195
equal right to some degree of property and each has an
obligation to see that the right is fulfilled.
3.3. Majority rule assumes that each person counts for
one and only one vote in making political decisions and
choosing legislators. Also, presumably, each should have
an equal opportunity to become a legislator.
Consent; freedom; equality: these are the concepts from
which Locke's political philosophy is made. Each is dis-
tinct: freedom to consent also implies freedom not to;
economic freedom is different from (and incompatible
with?) economic equality; consent does not necessarily
imply the assumed equality of majority rule. Yet each is
necessary: without consent the denials in the First Trea-
tise and the affirmations in the Second would be incom-
prehensible; without freedom to exercise choice, the right
to consent would be empty; without a theory of obliga-
tions, the establishment and continuance of government
would be impossible. So, Locke's theory really involves
three distinct, but interrelated, ideas; hence all attempts
to explain it with a single 'nothing but' principle are
doomed, a Priori, to failure.

IV

If this brief analysis is even approximately correct, sev-

eral conclusions seem justified.
One should not be surprised at the extent and assort-
ment of differences which mark the writings of Locke's
interpreters; his theory allows, indeed encourages, diverse
explanations. Here he has been reported to be an anarchist
and an authoritarian, a denier and an affirmer of natural
law, an egoist and a majority rule advocate-and each
writer can document his report with explicit statements.
And this does not exhaust the possibilities. Others have
seen Locke as a revolutionary, a traditionalist, a Whig,
or a defender of inalienable rights and there is no reason
why somr shrewd observer, and competent scholar, should
not see Locke's real theory as advocating Marxism, seces-
sion, or preserving the status quo. Actually, Locke's the-
196 Charles H. Monson, Jr.
ory is so complex that writers can assert a variety of
principles as basic-and with sufficient ingenuity find justi-
fication for their interpretation.
And this leads to a second conclusion. One does not
need to be particularly astute to discover inconsistencies,
for when statements originating from different basic con-
cepts are laid side by side, incompatibilities become evi-
dent. Locke's theory requires both obedience to the state
and the right to revolt: consent v. freedom. He sanctions
unlimited appropriation, yet an obligation to help to pre-
serve others: freedom v. equality. He relies upon majority
rule, yet affirms the inalienability of an individual's con-
sent: equality v. consent. It is no wonder, then, that some
writers have concluded that Locke is 'a blundering incom-
petent' or 'a man whose problem exceeds his powers'.
Yet, these inconsistencies are not as serious as one might
suppose. For one thing, a complex theory involves a num-
ber of different questions and some supposed inconsist-
encies have resulted from the failure to distinguish, for
example, statements about the origin of government from
statements concerning its moral efficacy, or descriptions of
men's motivations from prescriptions of their rights. More-
over, as previously mentioned, Locke is not a careful
writer,35 hence one does not get at the heart of his theory
by documenting isolated snippets and minutia? An in-
terpreter's scholarship must seek out the frequently re-
peated assertions and the broad outlines of the theory if
he is to escape the inconsistencies resulting from Locke's
carelessness.
But even after using appropriate scholarship, one will
still find paradoxes, for the basic principles, themselves,
are partially incompatible. Yet it should be pointed out
that these inconsistencies form the basis for many of the
haunting dilemmas in modern democratic governments.
Should we grant Communists freedom of speech when we
know that, in power, they abolish government by consent?
Which would you deny, freedom or consent? Should the
proceeds from a progressive income tax be used for slum
35 See D. 25.
Locke's Political Theory and Its Interpreters 197
clearance or farm subsidies; which is more important,
freedom or equality? Should a conscientious objector be
punished for refusing to support a war sanctioned by the
majority; consent or equality? Each side justifies itself by
appealing to basic democratic principles, hence we have
no clear and ready answer to these problems. But if Locke's
theory has inconsistencies precisely because it involves all
these principles, we can conclude that criticisms of his
theory are applicable far beyond the Second Treatise and
that his unresolved difficulties still remain unresolved-
and difficult.
One final point can only be suggested. Locke's theory
actually involves a series of tensions, for these concepts
supplement-and limit-each other both in theory and in
history. Unlimited freedom is anarchy, but government
initially es~ablished by consent can become tyrannical,
hence, freedom must be restricted by consent; consent
continually supplemented by freedom. Unlimited appro-
priation can lead to injustice, but total reliance upon the
majority's beneficence can lead to apathy, so freedom is
circumscribcd by equality; equality complemented by
freedom. Majority rule can be tyrannical, but a state with
no commonly recognized procedures would be chaotic, so
equality is countered by the right to review consent; free-
dom of conscience completed by equality. And in history,
laissez-faire capitalism was challenged on the grounds of
inequality and injustice; New Deal egalitarianism because
it destroyed initiative and freedom; equal voting rights for
negroes because those whites most affected will not con-
sent. Locke's theory, then-and democratic government-
have limits built into their framework, for when the con-
sequences of anyone concept become too important, an
appeal to either, or both, the other two can be used to
restore the balance.
Thus, both Locke's theory and democratic government's
practice, are conducive to endless discussion and perpetual
confusion, but also they have an inner source of vital-
ity which makes the practice perenially adaptable and
the theory continually interesting. Locke's theory, then,
198 Charles H. Monson, Jr.
merely anticipates the problems of modem democratic
government, so that in an even larger sense than the
eighteenth-century writers realized, John Locke was the
philosopher of democracy.
 THE SOCIAL BEARING OF LOCKE'S
POLITICAL THEORY
C. B. MACPHERSON

SOME UNSETTLED PROBLEMS OF LOCKE'S

POLITICAL THEORY

The reference in the title of this paper is to be taken in

a double sense. It marks a concern both with the social as-
sumptions that carry the weight of Locke's political theory
and with the type of society to which that theory pointed
tlle direction. Not enough attention has been given to
either of these problems, especially the first-the social
assumptions. It is not entirely surprising that these as-
sumptions have been neglected. The renewed discussion
of Locke's political ideas in recent years is part of a re-
vival of interest in natural law and in the meaning and
possibilities of liberal democracy. But the current revival
of interest in liberal-democratic principles contains its own
dangers. It is, directly or indirectly, part of the Western
defenses against communism. The consequent preoccupa-
tion with the broad validity of liberal democracy has in-
hibited any substantial notice of the class content of even
seventeenth century liberal theory. Attention has thus
been diverted from the social a~sumptions of Locke's the-
ory, insofar as they are assumptions about the class char-
acter of society, in a way which is unlikely to be conducive
From The Western Political Quarterly, Vol. VII (1954)' Re-
printed by permission of the author, and of the University of
Utah, copyright owners. A fuller treabnent is to be found in the
author's The Political Theory of Possessive Individualism, Oxford
paperbacks, 1964, ch. V, "Locke: The Political Theory of Ap-
propriation."
200 C. B. Macpherson
to a valid understanding either of his theory or of liberal-
democratic principles.
The neglecting of social bases alone might not call for
a reinterpretation of Locke, were it not that current in-
terpretations leave at the heart of his political theory seri-
ous unexplained inconsistencies. Neglect of Locke's social
assumptions and failure to explain contradictions in his
political theory are not unrelated. This paper attempts in
part to show that a closer analysis of these assumptions
may render Locke's political theory more intelligible.
The prevailing view, it might fairly be said, is that
Locke was primarily the theorist of the liberal state, of
constitutional or limited government as opposed to arbi-
trary or absolute government, of government conditional
on the consent of the governed, or of majority rule quali-
fied by individual rights. It is usually implied that the
problem Locke had set himself was either to build a uni-
versally valid general theory of political obligation or to
provide a general validation of a particular constitutional
position. In either of these versions, little attention is
given to the social, as distinct from the constitutional,
content of Locke's theory.
Such abstraction from social content has not always
prevailed. A more realistic quality was given to the consti-
tutional interpretation by those who saw Locke's state as,
in effect, a joint-stock company whose shareholders were
the men of property. This was the view taken by Leslie
Stephen in his English Thought in the Eighteenth Cen-
tury (1876), by C. E. Vaughan in his Studies in the His-
tory of Political Philosophy (1925), by Laski in his Locke
to Bentham (1920) and his Rise of European Liberalism
(1936), and by Professor Tawney in his Religion and the
Rise of Capitalism (1926). There is one great difficulty in
this view. Who were the members of Locke's civil society?
If they were only the men of property, how could the so-
cial contract be an adequate basis of political obligation
for all men? Yet undoubtedly the purpose of the social
contract was to find a basis for all-inclusive political obli-
gation. Here is an outstanding difficulty. That eminent
historians of thought did not see it as such is probably
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 201

because their interpretation was mainly in the constitu-

tional tradition: 1 it emphasized the limits Locke put on
government in the interests of property, rather than the
very great power Locke gave to the political community
(his "civil society") as against individuals.
Another view, with opposite emphasis, has made some
headway in the last ten years, following the publication of
Professor Kendall's study.2 There a strong case is made
that Locke's theory confers something very close to com-
plete sovereignty on civil society, that is, in effect, on the
majority of the people (though not, of course, on the
government, which has only fiduciary power). Against this
sovereignty of the majority, the individual has no rights.
Impressive evidence can be shown for this reading of
Locke. It leads to the striking conclusion that Locke was
not an individualist at all, but a "collectivist" in that he
subordinated the purposes of the individual to the pur-
poses of society. He is made a forerunner of Rousseau and
the General Will. 3 The case is a strong one. However, in.
concluding that Locke was a "majority-rule democrat,"
this interpretation overlooks all the evidence that Locke
was not a democrat at all. It reads into Locke a concern
with the democratic principle of majority rule, which was
to be the focus of much American political thinking in the
late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, as it is
now. And it leaves a major problem: Does not majority
rule endanger that individual property right which Locke
plainly sought to protect? Moreover, it proposes a resolu-
tion of Locke's many inconsistencies by imputing to him
an assumption ("that the chances are at least 50 plus out
of 100 that the average man is rational and just"),4 which
1 Professor Tawney's, of course, was not, and he did draw at-
tention to the decisive seventeenth century assumption that the
laboring class was a race apart (R. H. Tawney, Religion and the
Rise of Capitalism [Harmondsworth and New York: Penguin
Books Ltd., 1940], pp. 175, 241, to which reference is made be-
low, p. 204). However the implications for the political theory of
the period, not being central to his argument, were not explored.
2 Willmoore Kendall, John Locke and the Doctrine of
Majority-Rule (Urbana, Illinois: University of Illinois, 1941).
albid., pp. 103-6. 4 Ibid., pp. 134-35.
202 C. B. Macpherson
Locke c'!rtainly did not hold unambiguously and which he
specifically contradicted more than once. 5
More recently, attempts have been made, notably by
J. W. Gough,6 to bring Locke back into the liberal-
individualist tradition. However, these efforts are not con-
clusive. In trying to rescue Locke from the abstract logical
treatment he has had at some hands and to restore his
theory to its historical context, the emphasis is again put
on his constitutionalism. But the context of political his-
tory overshadows that of social and economic history. At
most, what is proposed is a compromise between Locke's
individualism and his "collectivism," and major incon-
sistencies are left unexplained.
Indeed, almost all interpretations fail to account for
radical contradictions in Locke's postulates. Why should
Locke have said, and what could he have meant by say-
ing, both that men on the whole are rational and that most
of them are not; both that the state of nature is rational,
peaceable and social, and that it is not essentially different
from Hobbes's state of war?7 To make consistency the first
rule of interpretation is as unrealistic as to take comfort
in the allegation that great minds are not consistent. Yet
the contradictions that lie on the surface of the Second
Treatise of Civil Government deserve more explanation
than they have had. The fact that they cannot be resolved
by logical analysis, or explained by constitutional histori-
cal analysis, suggests that they are the outcome of a deeper
social contradiction. Therefore we may look to Locke's
view of his own society for insight into the meaning of his
political theory.
5 Second Treatise of Civil Government, sections 21, 123; and
see below, pp. 218-19.
6 J. W. Gough, John Locke's Political Philosophy: Eight Stud·
ies (Oxford, 1950).
7 Rational is used here in Locke's sense of governing oneself by
the law of nature or law of reason (e.g., Second Treatise, § 6:
Reason is the law of nature; § 8: To transgress the law of nature
is to live by another rule than that of reason and common eq·
uity). For Locke's contradictory views of man's rationality, see
below, pp. 216-19.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 203

We shall find that his conception of that society, espe.-

cially of its class differentiation, entered into his abstract
postulates about the nature of society and man in a way
that has not generally been noticed. This view goes far to
account for the contradictions in Locke's political theory,
and for the outstanding problems of its interpretation.

LOCKE'S SOCIAL PRECONCEPTIONS

Locke did not make all his social assumptions explicit.

There is no reason why he should have done so. The as-
sumptions which he and his contemporary readers ab-
sorbed from the thinking of their own time, and from
their understanding of their own society, he could take
for granted.
Here I want to direct attention to two preconceptions
which Locke, in common with many others of his class
and time, entertained about his own society. As assump-
tions about the nature of seventeenth century society they
are explicit in various writings of Locke; as assumptions
about society in general they are implicit in the Treatise
and had a decisive influence in his political theory.8
These are (1) that while the laboring class is a neces-
sary part of the nation, its members are not in fact full
members of the body politic and have no claim to be so;
and (2) that the members of the laboring class do not
and cannot live a fully rational life. "Laboring class" is
used here to include both the "laboring poor" and the
"idle poor," that is, all who were dependent on employ-
ment or charity or the workhouse because they had no
property of their own by which, or on which, they might
work.
That these people were not, in fact or by right, full
members of political society was the prevailing view in
8 These two are not necessarily Locke's most fundamental so-
cial assumptions. First place should be given to his belief that
every man is the sole proprietor of his own person and capacities.
But as this is explicit in the Treatise, it does not demand the
same attention here. (See below, pp. Zl3-14, 226-28).
204 C. B. Macpherson
England in the second half of the seventeenth century.
They were regarded not as citizens but as a body of actual
and potential labor available for the purposes of the na-
tion. Professor Tawney has summarized their position in
the observation that the prevailing attitude of English
writers after 1660 "towards the new industrial proletariat
[was] noticeably harsher than that general in the first half
of the seventeenth century, and . . . has no modern par-
allel except in the behaviour of the less reputable of white
colonists towards coloured labour."9 The working class
was, in effect, in but not of civil society.
This attitude may be seen as a secularization, not only
of the Puritan doctrine of the poor, but also of that Cal-
vinist view in which the church, while claiming to include
the whole population, held that full membership could be
had only by the elect. The non elect (who were mainly,
though not entirely, coincidental with the nonpropertied)
were at once members and not members of the church:
not full members sharing in the government of the
church, but sufficiently members to be subject, rightfully,
to its discipline. 10 This Calvinist position tended to ex-
clude beggars, vagrants, and all unemployed poor from
full citizenship, an implication of their exclusion from full
membership in the church.
The secular view that came to prevail during the Res-
toration went much further. Not only the unemployed but
also the employed poor were treated, not as citizens but
as objects of state policy. Economic writers of the day ad-
mitted, even insisted, that the laboring poor were the
ultimate source of any nation's wealth, but only if they
were compelled to continuous labor. That the arrange-
ments for extracting this labor were not regarded as en-
tirely satisfactory in 1688 is evident from Gregory King's
famous statistical estimate of the population and income
of England in 1688 (which, as Unwin has said, affords
9 Tawney, op. cit., pp. 240-41.
10 For expressions of this view in
English Calvinism, see Chris-
topher Hill, "Puritans and the Poor," Past & Present, II (No-
vember, 1952),41.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 205

"better evidence of the common assumptions of the direct-

ing classes than of any objective social facts").u He di-
vided the whole body of the people into those increasing
and those decreasing the wealth of the kingdom, and put
not only "cottagers and paupers" and "vagrants," but also
the "labouring people and outservants" among the occupa-
tional classes, each of which decreased the wealth of the
kingdomJ2
The estimated size of the propertyless wage-earning and
unemployed classes in 1688 need not be emphasized,
though it is striking enough: King and D'Avenant put
more than half the population in this category. What is
more important is the assumption that the laboring class
is to be managed by the state in order to make it pro-
ductive of national gain. The laboring class's interests were
not subordinated to the national interest; the class was
not considered to have an interest. The ruling-class view
of the national interest was the only one.
This attitude towards the working class, generally ex-
plicit in the economic writings of the period from 1660, is
nicely exemplified in William Petyt's statement:
People are . . . the chiefest, most fundamental
and precious commodity, out of which may be de-
rived all sorts of manufactures, navigation, riches,
conquests and solid dominion. This capital material
being of itself raw and indigested is committed into
the hands of the supreme authority in whose pru-
dence and disposition it is to improve, manage and
fashion it to more or less advantage.1 3
11 George Unwin, Studies in Economic History (cd. by R. H.
Tawney, London, 19 2 7), p. 345.
12 King's estimate is conveniently reproduced in Dorothy
George, England in Transition (Penguin edition, 1953), pp.
150-51. It is partially reproduced in G. N. Clark, The Wealth
of England from 1496 to 1760 (London, 1946), but without
the division into those increasing and fuose decreasing. The full
table is in D'Avenant's \Vorks (1771), II, 184.
13 William Petyt, Britannia Languens (1680), p. 238. This
and similar passages from various writers of the period are quoted
in E. S. Furniss, The Position of the Laborer in a System of
Nationalism (New York: Houghton, 1920), pp. 16 II.
206 C. B. Macpherson
The view that human beings of the laboring class were a
commodity out of which riches and dominion might be
derived, a raw material to be worked up and disposed of
by the political authority, was fully shared by Locke. The
evidence leaves no doubt that he regarded the working
class as subject to, but without full membership in, the
political society of seventeenth century England. He as-
sumed this not only as a matter of fact but as a matter of
right. The moral assumption was that the laboring class
does not and cannot live a rational life.
Evidence of these assumptions is scattered throughout
Locke's writings. His proposals for the treatment of the
able-bodied unemployed are fairly well known, although
when they are mentioned by modern writers it is usually
to deprecate their severity and excuse it by reference to
the standards of the time. What is more to the point is
the view which these proposals afford of Locke's assump-
tions. Masters of workhouses ("houses of correction")
were to be encouraged to make them into sweated-labor
manufacturing establishments; justices of the peace were
to make them into forced-labor institutions. Children of
the unemployed "above the age of three" were unneces-
sarily a burden on the nation; they should be set to work,
and could be made to earn more than their keep. All this
was justified on the explicit ground that unemployment
was due not to economic causes but to moral depravity.
The multiplying of the unemployed, Locke wrote in 1697
in his capacity as a member of the Commission on Trade,
was caused by "nothing else but the relaxation of disci-
pline and corruption of manners."14 There was no ques-
tion in his mind of treating the unemployed as full or
free members of the political community; there was
equally no doubt that they were fully subject to the state.
The state was entitled to deal with them in this way be-
14 Quoted in H. R. Fox Bourne, The Life of John Locke (Lon.
don, 1876), II, 378. Locke seems to have regarded the idle poor
as depraved by choice, in contrast to the laboring poor, whom
he considered incapable of a fully rational life because of their
position. (See below, pp. 2.2.0-2.1.)
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 207

cause they would not live up to the moral standard re-

quired of rational men.
Locke's attitude towards the employed wage-earning
class has been noticed less often, though it is plain enough
in various passages of his economic writings, particularly
in Some Considerations of the Consequences of the Low-
ering of Interest and Raising the Value of Money (1691).
There, incidentally to his technical arguments, Locke takes
for granted that the wage-laborer constitutes a normal and
sizable class in the nation,15 that he has no property but
is entirely dependent on his wages, and that, of necessity,
his wages are normally at a bare subsistence level,16 Such
a person "just lives from hand to mouth." One passage in
particular deserves quotation:
.•. The labourer's share [of the national income],
being seldom more than a bare subsistence, never al-
lows that body of men, time, or opportunity to raise
their thoughts above that, or struggle with the richer
for theirs (as one common interest), unless when
some common and great distress, uniting them in
one universal ferment, makes them forget respect,
and emboldens them to carve to their wants with
armed force: and then sometimes they break in upon
the rich, and sweep all like a deluge. But this rarely
happens but in the male-administration of neglected,
or mismanaged government,17
It is hard to say which part of these remarks is the most
revealing. There is the assumption that the laborers are
normally kept too low to be able to think or act politi-
cally. There is the assertion that maladministration con-
sists not of leaving them there, but of allowing such un-
usual distress to occur as will unite them in armed revolt.
And there is the conviction that such revolt is improper,
an offense against the respect they owe to their betters.
Now the question: Who has the right of revolution? is
a decisive question with Locke. The revolutionary right is
to him the only effective test of citizenship, as he makes
15 Considerations, in \Vorks (1759 edition), II, 13-16.
16 Ibid., p. 29.
17 Ibid., p. 36.
2.08 C. B. Macpherson
no proVlslon for any other method of overthrowing an
unwanted government. Although he insists, in the Trea-
tise, on the majority's right to revolution, it does not seem
to cross his mind here that the laboring class might have
the right to make a revolution. Indeed there is no reason
why such a thought should have occurred to him, for to
him the laboring class was an object of state policy and of
administration, rather than fully a part of the citizen body.
Such a class was incapable of rational political action, but
the right to revolution depended essentially on rational
decision.
The assumption that members of the laboring class are
in too low a position to be capable of a rational life-that
is, capable of regulating their lives by those moral prin-
ciples Locke supposed were given by reason-is evident
again in The Reasonableness of Christianity. The whole
argument of that work is a plea that Christianity be re-
stored to a few simple articles of belief "that the labouring
and illiterate man may comprehend." Christianity should
thus again be made
a religion suited to vulgar capacities; and the state of
mankind in this world, destined to labour and travel.
• . . The greatest part of mankind have not leisure
for learning and logick, and superfine distinctions of
the schools. Where the hand is used to the plough
and the spade, the head is seldom elevated to sublime
notions, or exercised in mysterious reasoning. 'Tis
well if men of that rank (to say nothing of the other
sex) can comprehend plain propositions, and a short
re.asoning about things familiar to their minds, and
nearly allied to their daily experience. Go beyond
this, and you amaze the greatest part of man-
kind. . . .18,
This is not, as might be thought, a plea for a simple
rationalist ethical religion to replace the disputations of
the theologians. On the contrary, Locke's point is that
without supernatural sanctions the laboring class is in-
capable of following a rationalist ethic. He only wants the
18 The Reasonableness of Christianity, last two pages; Works
(1759), II, 585-86.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 209

sanctions made clearer. The simple articles he recom-

mends are not moral rules, but articles of faith. Belief in
them is all that is necessary, for such belief converts the
moral rules of the gospel into binding commands. Locke"s
problem is to frame the articles so tl1at they will appeal
directly to the experience of the common people, who can
thus believe. 19 The greatest part of mankind, he con-
cludes, cannot be left to the guidance of the laws of na-
ture or of reason; they are not capable of drawing rules of
conduct from them. For "the day-labourers and trades-
men, the spinsters and dairy-maids . . . hearing plain
commands, is the sure and only course to bring them to
obedience and practice. The greatest part cannot know
and therefore they must believe."20
Of course, Locke was recommending this simplified
Christianity for all classes, as may be seen in his ingenu-
ously mercantile observations on the surpassing utility of
the Christian doctrine of rewards and punishments.
The [ancient] philosophers, indeed, shewed the
beauty of virtue; . . . but leaving her unendowed,
very few were willing to espouse her. . . . But now
there being put into the scales on her side, 'an ex-
ceeding and immortal weight of glory'; interest is
come about to her, and virtue now is visibly the most
enriching purchase, and by much the best bargain.
• . . The view of heaven and hell will cast a slight
upon the short pleasures and pains of this present
state, and give attractions and encouragements to vir-
tue, which reason and interest, and the care of our-
19 The essential articles of belief are that there is a future life
and that salvation can only be had by believing that Christ was
raised from the dead to be the divine savior of mankind. Locke
argues that this is a plain notion which, along with miracles, -can
readily be grasped by the illiterate in tenns of their common ex-
perience: "The healing of the sick, the restoring sight to the blind
by a word, the raising, and being raised from the dead, are matters
of fact, which they can without difficulty conceive, and that he
who does such things, must do them by the assistance of a divine
power. These things lie level to the ordinariest apprehension: he
that can distinguish between sick and well, lame and sound, dead
and alive, is capable of this doctrine." (Ibid., II, 580.)
20 Ibid., II, 580.
210 C. B. Macpherson
selves, cannot but allow and prefer. Upon this foun-
dation, and upon this only, morality stands firm, and
may defy all competition. 21
No doubt Locke's readers would appreciate this recom-
mendation of Christianity more than would the laborers,
who were not in a position to think in terms of making
"the most enriching purchase." However, Locke regards as
only a secondary advantage the ability of his fundamental
Christian doctrine to satisfy men of higher capacities. His
repeated emphasis on the necessity of the laboring classes
being brought to obedience by a belief in divine rewards
and punishments leaves no doubt about his main concern.
The implication is plain: the laboring class, beyond all
others, is incapable of living a rational life.
Clearly, then, when Locke looked at his own society he
saw two classes with different rationality and different
rights. It would have been strange had he not done so.
Locke was no Leveller. His was not the democratic puri-
tanism that had appeared during the Commonwealth, but
the puritanism which had encountered no difficulty in
accommodating itself to the exigencies of class rule in
1660. Locke had welcomed the Restoration not only be-
cause it had put an end to the turbulence of the Com-
monwealth,22 but also because it had restored something
that was positively good,
the protection of those laws which the prudence and
providence of our ancestors established and the happy
return of his Maiesty hath restored: a body of laws
so well composed, that whilst this nation would be
content only to be under them they were always sure
to be above their neighbours, which forced from the
world this constant acknowledgment, that we were
not only the happiest state but the purest church of
the latter age.23
21 Ibid., II, 582.
22 See the passages quoted from Locke's MS treatise of 1660
on the Civil Magistrate, in Gough, op. cit., p. 178.
23 Preface to the treatise on the Civil Magistrate, 1660; Bod-
leian Library, MS Locke C 28, fo1. 2 verso.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 211

From this unreserved approbation of the pre-Common-

wealth constitution-not, of course, the constitution (of
Church and State) as understood by James I and Charles
I, but as understood by the Parliamentarians-he went on
to state as a matter of principle that "the supreme magis-
trate of every nation what way soever created, must neces-
sarily have an absolute and arbitrary power over all the
indifferent actions of his people."24 Locke showed him-
self to be truly conservative in 1660. From then on, his
view of society was that of the men of substance.

THE SOCIAL PRECONCEPTIONS GENERALIZED

It would be surprising if Locke's preconceptions about

his own society did not somehow affect his premises about
society and man as such. His unhistorical habit of mind
presented no obstacle to his transferring assumptions
about seventeenth-century society into a supposed state of
nature. As he took his assumptions about his own society
24 Ibid., fol. 3 recto. The difference between this and the po-
sition Locke took three decades later in the Second Treatise is
not in the amount of power granted to the civil authority but in
the locus of that power. The "absolute and arbitrary power" of
1660 is only over "indifferent actions." Indifferent actions he de-
fined as those not comprehended in the law of nature or divine
revelation; in other words, those matters as to which man is natu-
rally free. (See Locke's premises, quoted in Gough, cp. cit., p.
179.) These are precisely the matters which in the Second Trea-
tise Locke has the individual hand over to the supreme civil au-
thority, there the civil society itself.
But in 1660 Locke was willing to consider a monarch-or
was it only the king·in·parliament?-as the supreme authority; the
"magistrate" is defined as "the supreme legislative power of any
society, not considering the form of government or number of
persons wherein it is placed" (MS treatise on Civil Magistrate,
Bodleian Library, MS Locke, e. 7, fol. 1, sidenote); whereas in
1689 Locke reserved supreme authority to the civil society itself.
He was consistent throughout in wanting a civil authority which
could secure the basic institutions of a class society. In 1660 this
required the recall of the Stuarts and the doctrine of the magis-
trate's absolute and arbitrary power in things indifferent; in 1689
it required the dismissal of the Stuarts and the doctrine of the
Second Treatise.
212 C. B. Macpherson
so much for granted that he felt no need to argue them,
they could easily be carried into his premises without any
consciousness of a problem of consistency. I shall argue
t11at both of ilie assumptions about his own society-iliat
of a class differential in rationality, and that of a class
differential in rights-were generalized in Locke's iliinking
into implicit assumptions about human nature as such
and about individual natural rights, and that these as-
sumptions modified his explicit postulates about human
nature and natural rights.
In Locke's initial statement of his postulates in the
Treatise (and in his analysis of human nature in the
Essay Concerning Human Understanding, which has to
be considered also for a full statement of his general the-
ory of human nature), there is nothing to suggest an as-
sumption of class differentiation. However, before he used
these postulates to deduce the necessary character of civil
society, he put forward other arguments, especially in his
treatment of ,property rights, which imply iliat he had al-
ready generalized his differential assumptions about his
own society into abstract implicit assumptions of differ-
ential human nature and natural rights.
(1) Differential Rights. We have seen that Locke
found in seventeenili-century society a class differentiation
so deep that ilie members of the laboring class had very
different effective rights from ilie classes above iliem. They
lived, and must live, "from hand to mouth," could never
"raise their ilioughts above that," and were unfit to par-
ticipate in political life. Their condition was a result of
their having no property on which iliey could expend
their labor; their having no property was one aspect of the
prevailing inequality which was grounded in "ilie neces-
sity of affairs, and the constitution of human society."25
What Locke saw in his own society he considered typi-
cal of all civil society. But how did this become an as-
sumption of differential natural rights, and where does it,
as such an assumption, enter into the argument of the
Treatise? It is certainly not present in the opening state-
25 Considerations, Works (1759), II, 19.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 213

ments about natural rights; there the emphasis is all on

the natural equality of rights (§§ 4, 5) .26
The transformation of equal into differential natural
rights comes to light in Locke's theory of property. In the
chapter on property in the Treatise, he went out of his
way to transform the natural right of every individual to
such property as he needed for subsistence and to which
he applied his labor, into a natural right of unlimited ap-
propriation, by which the more industrious could right-
fully acquire all the land, leaving others with no way to
live except by selling the disposal of their labor.27
This transformation is not an aberration in Locke's in-
dividualism but an essential part of it. The core of his
individualism is the assertion that every man is naturally
the sole proprietor of his own person and capacities (§ § 4,
6, 44, 123) -the absolute proprietor in the sense that he
owes nothing to society for them-and especially the ab-
solute proprietor of his capacity to labor (§ 27). Every
man is therefore free to alienate his own capacity to labor.
This individualist postulate is the one by which Locke
transforms the mass of equal individuals (rightfully) into
two classes with very different nghts, those with property
and those without. Once the land is all taken up, the
fundamental right not to be subject to the jurisdiction of
another is so unequal between owners and nonowners that
it is different in kind, not in degree: those without prop-
erty are dependent for their livelihood on those with prop-
erty and are unable to alter their own circumstances. The
initial equality of natural rights, which consisted in no
man's having jurisdiction over another (§ 4) cannot last
after the differentiation of property. In other words, the
man without property in things loses that proprietorship
of his own person which was the basis of his equal natural
rights. I.()cke insists that disparity in property is natural,
that is, that it takes place "out of the bounds of society,
26 This and subsequent references in the text are to the section
numbers of the Second Treatise of Civil Government. Quotations
are from the 1764 edition of the Treatises.
27 "Locke on Capitalist Appropriation," 'Vestern Political
Quarterly, IV, 550-66.
R
214 C. B. Macpherson
and without compact" (§ 50). Civil society is established
to protect unequal possessions, which have already in the
natural state caused unequal rights. In this way Locke has
generalized the assumption of a class differential in rights
in his own society into an implicit assumption of differ-
ential natural rights. This implicit assumption, as will be
seen, did not replace the initial theory of equality: both
were in Locke's mind at the same time.
(2) Differential Rationality. We have seen that Locke
assumed in his own society a class differential in ration-
ality which left the laboring class incapable of a fully
rational life. The questions are: How did this become an
assumption of differential rationality in general? And
where did this enter the argument of the Treatise? It is
clearly not present in the opening statements of postulates.
There, rationality and depravity are dealt with abstractly
and although rational men are distinguished from de-
praved men,28 there is no suggestion that the distinction
is correlated with social class. But as the argument pro-
ceeds and the postulates have to be made more specific,
it becomes apparent that Locke has something else in
mind. When he has to relate depravity and rationality
to man's political needs, these qualities turn out to have
meaning only in the setting of a particular kind of prop-
erty institutions and to be closely related to ownership.
Whatever man's inherent depravity may be, Locke
thinks it does not require any but the most rudimentary
political society until there is extensive property. Where
there was "the equality of a simple poor way of living,
confining [men's] desires within the narrow bounds of
each man's small property," there would be few contro-
versies and few trespasses, and consequently no need of
many laws or magistrates; there would be more fear of out-
siders than of each other, and the main purpose of setting
up government would be for security "against foreign
force" (§ 107). A fully civil society of the kind which is
the main concern of the Treatise, a society for the internal
security of individual property, is required for the protec-
28 See below, p. :nS.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 215

tion not of small equal properties but only of extensive

unequal ones, not of a modest store of consumables or
perhaps a few acres of land but of a substantial accumula-
tion of resources. It is the propensity to accumulate prop-
erty beyond the requirements of subsistence that neces-
sarily leads rational men to establish civil society.
Here we reach the crux of the matter. The propensity
to accumulate, although it leads to quarrels, is itself not
depraved but rational. Not only is the desire for accumu-
lation rational, according to Locke, but accumulation is
the essence of rational conduct. More precisely, the true
nature of rational behavior is to expend labor improving
the gifts of nature for subsequent enjoyment of greater
real income or of greater power or prestige. This proce-
dure, in Locke's view, requires private possession; and the
measure of rational industriousness is the accumulation
of possessions.
All this can be seen in the famous chapter on property
in the Treatise, the burden of which is that the truly ra-
tional man is the industrious man. Rational behavior in
temporal affairs is investing one's energies in the accumu-
lation of real property and capital. "God gave the world to
men in common; but . . . he gave it them . . . for . . •
the greatest conveniences of life they were capable to
draw from it. . . ." Therefore, He "gave it to the use of
the industrious and rational," who would "improve" it
( § 34 ). Improvement without ownership is impossible:
"The condition of human life, which requires labour -and
materials to work on, necessarily introduces private pos-
sessions" (§ 35). Not everyone in the state of nature could
acquire property, for wherever money is introduced-and it
is introduced in the state of nature (§ 50) -the land is all
appropriated (§ 45). That the appropriation leaves some
men without any possibility of getting land does not dis-
turb Locke because the day-laborer in a society where
the land is all appropriated is better off than the greatest
man in a primitive economy (§ 41).
Thus "the industrious and rational" are not all laborers,
but only those who acquire property and improve it by
216 C. B. Macpherson
their labor.29 A further effect of the introduction of
money is that the rational goal of a man's industry be-
comes accumulation beyond any requirements of con-
sumption. "Different degrees of industry" give men differ-
ent amounts of property, and the invention of money
gives the more industrious man the opportunity "to en-
large his possessions beyond the use of his family, and a
plentiful supply to its consumption" (§ 48). In short, ra-
tional conduct, in the state of nature, consists in unlimited
accumulation, the possibility of which is open only to
some. It follows that there was, in Locke's view, a class
differential in rationality in the state of nature, inasmuch
as those who were left without property after the land was
all appropriated could not be accounted fully rational.
They .had no opportunity to be so. Like day laborers in
civil society they were not in a position to expend their
labor improving the gifts of nature; their whole energies
were needed to keep alive. They could not "raise their
thoughts above that," for they just lived "from hand to
mouth."

THE AMBIGUOUS STATE OF NATURE

From the foregoing analysis it may be concluded that

Locke read back into the state of nature, in a generalized
form, the assumptions he made about differential rights
and rationality in existing societies. Although the general-
ized assumptions modified in his own mind the initial
postulates of the Treatise, they did not displace them.
Locke entertained both at the same time, at different lev-
els of consciousness. Hence, the postulates on which he
was operating were confused and ambiguous. All men were
on the whole rational; yet there were two distinct classes
of rationality. All men were equal in natural rights; yet
there were two distinct orders of possession of natural
29 The same conclusion is reached, from a different starting
point, by Leo Strauss, in a penetrating recent article on natural
law: "On Locke's Doctrine of Natural Rights," Philosophical
Review, XLI (October, 195 2 ), 495-96.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 217

rights. The source of the extraordinary contradiction in

Locke's presentation of human nature is found here.
We customarily think that Locke held men to be es-
sentially rational and social. Rational, in that they could
live together by the law of nature, which is reason, or
which at least (though not imprinted on the mind) is
knowable by reason without the help of revelation. Social,
in that they could live by the law of nature without the
imposition of rules by a sovereign. This conception, in-
deed, is usually said to be the great difference between
Locke's and Hobbes's views of human nature. If there is a
significant difference it is here that one expects to find it,
rather than in the theory of motivation. For Locke, like
Hobbes, held that men are moved primarily by appetite
and aversion; the appetites are so strong that "if they were
left to their full swing, they would carry men to the over-
turning of all morality. Moral laws are set as a curb and
restraint to these exhorbitant desires."80 It is usually
maintained that the difference between this and Hobbes's
view is that Locke thought men capable of setting these
rules on themselves, by perceiving their utility, without
installing a sovereign.
The general theory presented a~ the opening of the
Treatise affirms that men are naturally able to govern
themselves by the law of nature, or reason. The state of
nature, we are told, has a law of nature to govern it, which
is reason (§ 6). The state of nature is contrasted flatly to
the state of war: the two are "as far distant, as a state of
peace, goodwill, mutual assistance and preservation, and a
state of enmity, malice, violence and mutual destruction,
are from one another. Men living together according to
reason, without a common superior on earth, with author-
ity to judge between them, is properly the state of nature"
30 Essay Concerning Human Understanding, I, 3, § 3. Cf.
Locke's Hobbesian reflection in 1678 that "the principal spring
from which the actions of men take their rise, the rule they con-
duct them by, and the end to which they direct them, seems to
be credit and reputation, and that which at any rate they avoid
is in the greatest part shame and disgrace," and the consequences
he draws for government. (Quoted from Locke's MS journal in
Fox Bourne, op. cit., I, 403-4')
218 c. B. Macpherson
(§ 19). It is no derogation of this view of the state of na-
ture to allow, as Locke does, that there are some men in
it who will not follow the law of nature. Nature's law
teaches only those who will consult it (§ 6); some men
transgress it and, by so doing, declare themselves "to live
by another rule than that of reason and common equity"
and in this way become "dangerous to mankind" (§ 8);
a man who violates the law of nature "becomes degenerate,
and declares himself to quit the principles of human na-
ture, and to be a noxious creature" (§ 10). The whole
picture of the state of nature in chapter ii of the Treatise
is one of a people abiding by natural law, with some natu-
ral criminals among them: Locke even uses the word
criminal to describe the man in the state of nature who
violates its law (§ 8).
But this representation is only one of two quite opposite
pictures Locke has of the state of nature. As early as chap-
ter iii of the TTeati..~e, only a page after the distinction be-
tween the state of nature and the state of war, we read
that where there is no authority to decide between con-
tenders "every the least difference is apt to end" in the
"state of war," and that "one great reason of men's putting
themselves into society, and quitting the state of nature"
is "to avoid this state of war" (§ 21) .31 The difference
between the state of nature and the Hobbesian state of
war has virtually disappeared. Some chapters later, we
read further that the state of nature is "very unsafe, very
unsecure"; that in it the enjoyment of individual rights is
81 This passage is not in the Everyman edition of the two
Treatises (ed. by W. S. Carpenter) nor in the Appleton·Century
edition of the Second Treatise and Letter Concerning Toleration
(ed. by C. L. Shennan, New York, 1937). Each of these follows,
at this point, a printing of the first edition of the Treatises which
did not contain any § 21, and each has covered up the deficiency
by arbitrarily dividing another section into two. (Shennan divides
§ 20; Carpenter divides § 36, so that all the sections in the Every-
man edition from 21 to 35 are wrongly numbered.) The particu-
lars of the two printings of Locke's first edition, and of their
handling by modem editors, are given in Peter Laslett's "The
1690 Edition of Locke's Two Treatises of Government: Two
States," Transactions of the Cambridge Bibliographical Society,
IV (195 2 ), 341-47.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 219

"very uncertain, and constantly exposed to the invasion of

others," and that it is "full of fears and continual dan-
gers." All this danger occurs because "the greater part
[are] no strict observers of equity and justice" (§ 123).
What makes the state of nature unlivable, according to
this account, is not the viciousness of the few but the dis-
position of "the greater part" to depart from the law of
reason.
The contradiction between Locke's two sets of state-
ments about natural man is obvious. It is a central con-
tradiction in the explicit postulates on which his political
theory is built. It will not do to say he simply echoes the
traditional Christian conception of man as a contradictory
mixture of appetite and reason. Locke no doubt accepted
that view; and within it there is room for a considerable
variety of belief as to the relative weights (or potential-
ities) of the two ingredients of human nature. Different
exponents of Christian doctrine could take different views.
What has to be explained is how Locke took not one posi-
tion in this matter but two opposite positions.
One might say that he had to take both in order to
make his case against Hobbes; he had to make men ra-
tional enough not to require a Hobbesian sovereign, yet
contentious enough to necessitate their handing over their
natural rights and powers to a civil society. However, to
say this would be to accuse Locke, unjustly and unneces-
sarily, either of intellectual dishonesty or of extraordinary
superficiality; besides, it would imply an underestimate of
the extent to which Locke did subordinate the individual
to the state.82
It seems more reasonable to conclude that Locke was
able to take both positions about human nature because
he had in mind simultaneously two conceptions of society,
which, although logically conflicting, were derived from
the same ultimate source. One was the seventeenth-
century atomistic conception of society as a mass of equal,
undifferentiated beings. The other was the notion of a
society composed of two classes differentiated by their
82 See below, pp. 2.2.6-2.8.
220 C. B. Macpherson
level of rationality-those who were "industrious and ra-
tional" and had property, and those who were not, who
labored, indeed, but only to live, not to accumulate.
Locke was unconscious of the contradiction between
these two conceptions of society because both of them
(and not merely, as we have already seen, the second one)
were elements transferred to his postulates from his com-
prehension of his own society. Ultimately it was Locke's
comprehension of his own society that was ambiguous and
contradictory. It could not have been otherwise, for it was
the comprehension of an emerging bourgeois society, re-
flecting the ambivalence of a society which demanded
formal equality but required substantive inequality of
rights.
As a bourgeois philosopher, a proponent of seventeenth-
century individualism, Locke had to regard men as equal,
undifferentiated units, and to consider them rational. The
bourgeois order justified itself by assuming, first, that all
men were intellectually capable of shifting for themselves,
and secondly, that rational behavior in this sense was mor-
ally rational, in accordance with the law of nature. Thus a
necessary part of the bourgeois vision pictured man in
general in the image of rational bourgeois man. Locke
shared this view, which gave him the account of the state
of nature as rational and peaceable.
At the same time, as a bourgeois philosopher Locke
necessarily conceived abstract society as consisting of two
classes with different rationality. The two classes in Locke's
England lived lives totally different in freedom and rights.
The basic difference between them in fact was the differ-
ence in their ability to live by the bourgeois moral code.
But to the directing class this appeared to be a differential
capacity in men to live by moral rules as such. This con-
ception of society gave Locke the picture of the state of
nature as unsafe and insecure. For to say, as he did, that
most men are incapable of guiding their lives by the law
of reason, without sanctions, is to say that a civil society
with legal sanctions (and a church with spiritual sanc-
tions) is needed to keep them in order. Without these
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 221

sanctions, i.e., in a state of nature, there could be no

peace.
Both views of the state of nature flowed from the bour-
geois concept of society, and both were necessary to it.
Their common source obscured their contradictory quality.
There was no question of Locke's basing his theory on an
Aristotelian concept of two classes-masters and slaves-
whose relative positions were justified by a supposed in-
herent difference in rationality. With Locke the difference
in rationality was not inherent in men; it was socially ac-
quired by virtue of different economic positions. But since
it was acquired in the state of nature, it was inherent in
society. Once acquired, that is to say, it was permanent,
for it was the concomitant of an order of property rela-
tions which Locke assumed to be the permanent basis of
civilized society. His notion of differential rationality justi-
fied as natural, not slavery,S3 but the subordination of
·one part of the people by their continual contractual alien-
ation of their capacity to labor. In the bourgeois view
men were free to alienate their freedom, and Locke, at
least, thought that the difference in rationality was a re-
sult rather than a cause of that alienation. But the differ-
ence in rationality, once established, provided a justifica-
tion for differential rights.

THE AMBIGUOUS CIVIL SOCIETY

We may now inquire how Locke's ambiguous positicn

on natural rights and rationality enters and affects his
theory of the formation of civil society. Men enter into
civil society, Locke asserts, to protect themselves from the
inconveniences, insecurity and violence of the state of na-
ture. Or, as he declares repeatedly, the great reason for
men's uniting into society and putting themselves under
38 Locke did, of course, justify slavery also, but not on grounds
of inherently differential rationality. Enslavement was justified
only when a man had "by his fault forfeited his own life, by some
act that deserves death" (§ 23). Locke appears to have thought
of it as a fit penalty for his natural criminals.
B*
222 C. B. Macpherson
government is to preserve their property, by which, he
says, he means their "lives, liberties and estates" (§ 123,
cf. § 173). When property is so defined, everyone has a
reason to enter civil society, and everyone is capable of
entering it, having some rights which he can transfer.
However, Locke did not keep to this definition. He used
the term in two different senses at points where its mean-
ing was decisive in his argument. The property for the
protection of which men oblige themselves to civil society
is sometimes (e.g., §§ 123, 131, 137) stated to be "life,
liberty a~d estate," but sometimes (e.g., § § 138-140) it
is clearly only goods or land. 34 Consequently, men with-
out estate or goods; that is, without property in the ordi-
nary sense, are rightfully botll in civil society and not in
civil society.
When the property for the protection of which men
enter civil society is taken to be life, liberty and estate,
all men (except slaves) are eligible for membership; when
it is taken to be goods or estate alone, then only men
who possess them are eligible. Locke interprets it both
ways, without any consciousness of inconsistency. What
has happened is understandable in the light of our analy-
sis. Locke's recognition of differential class rights in his
own society, having been carried into his postulates as an
implicit assumption of differential natural rights and ra-
tionality, without displacing the formal assumption of
general rationality and equal rights, has emerged at the
level of the social contract in a crucial ambiguity about
who are parties to the contra~t.
The question as to whom Thcke considered to be mem-
bers of civil society seems to admit only one answer. Eve-
ryone, whether or not he has property in the ordinary
sense, is included, as having an interest in preserving his
34 A striking instance of the latter use is in § 138, where, after
arguing that men in society must have property (since the pur-
pose of their entering society was to preserve property), he con-
cludes that "they have such a right to the goods which by the
law of the community are theirs, that nobody hath a right to take
their substance or any part of it from them without their own
consent; without this they have no property at all."
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 223

life and liberty. At the same time only those with "estate"
can' be full members, for two reasons: only they have a
full interest in the preservation of property, and only they
are fully capable of that rational life-that voluntary obli-
gation to the law of reason-which is the necessary basis for
full participation in civil society. The laboring class, being
without estate, are subject to, but not full members of,
civil society. If it be objected that this is not one answer
but two inconsistent answers, the reply must be that both
answers follow from Locke's assumptions, and that neither
one alone, but only the two together, accurately represent
his thinking.
This ambiguity about membership in civil society by
virtue of the supposed original contract allows Locke to
consider all men as members for purposes of being ruled
and only the men of estate as members for purposes of
ruling. The right to rule (more accurately, the right to
control any government) is given only to the men of es-
tate; it is they who are given the decisive voice about taxa-
tion, without which no government can subsist (§ 140).
On the other hand, the obligation to be bound by law and
subject to the lawful government is fixed on all men
whether or not they have property in the sense of estate,
indeed, whether or not they have made an express com-
pact. When Locke broadens his doctrine of express con-
sent into a doctrine of tacit consent, he leaves no doubt
about who are obligated. Tacit consent is assumed to have
been _given by "every man, that hath any possessions, or
enjoyment, of any part of the dominions of any govern-
ment . • . whether this his possession be of land, to him
and his heirs forever, or a lodging only for a week; or
whether it be barely travelling freely on the highway; and
in effect, it reaches as far as the very being of anyone
within the territories of that government" (§ 119). Locke
is careful to say (§ 122) that this does not make a man a
full member of civil society, but only subjects him right-
fully to its government: the men of no estate are not
admitted to full membership by the back door of tacit con-
224 c. B. Macpherson
sent.35 Of course, Locke had to retreat to tacit consent be-
cause it was impossible to show express consent in the case
of present citizens of an established state. However, his
doctrine of tacit consent has the added convenience that
it clearly imposes obligation, reaching to their "very being,"
on those with no estate whatever.
It appears from the foregoing analysis that the result of
Locke's work was to provide a moral basis for a class state
from postulates of equal individual natural rights. Given
the seventeenth-century individualist natural-rights as-
sumptions, a class state could only be legitimized by a
doctrine of consent which would bring one class within,
but not make it fully a part of, the state. Locke's theory
achieved this end. Its accomplishment required the im-
plicit assumptions which he held. These assumptions in-
volved him in the ambiguities and contradictions that per-
vade his argument. It is difficult to see how he could have
persisted in such contradictions had he not been taking
the class state as one desideratum and equal natural rights
as another.
Locke did not twist deliberately a theory of equal natu-
ral rights into a justification for a class state. On the con-
trary, his honestly held natural-rights assumptions made
it possible, indeed almost guaranteed, that his theory
would justify a class state without any sleight of hand. The
decisive factor was that the equal natural rights Locke en-
visaged, including as they did the right to unlimited ac-
cumulation of property, led logically to differential class
rights and so to justification of a class state. Locke's con-
fusions are the result of honest deduction from a posfulate
of equal natural rights which contained its own contradic-
tion. The evidence suggests that he did not realize the
contradiction in the postulate of equal natural right to un-
limited property, but that he simply read into the realm
of right (or the state of nature) a social relation which he
85 We may notice incidentally that in his discussion of tacit
consent, as well as in that of the supposed express entry into civil
society by the contract, Locke lumps together life, liberty and es·
tate under one tenn, and here the tenn is not even "property" but
"possession" (§ 119, quoted above).
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 225

accepted as normal in civilized society. The source of the

contradictions in his theory is his attempt to state in uni-
versal (nonclass) terms, rights and obligations which nec-
essarily had a class content.

UNSETI'LED PROBLEMS RECONSIDERED

When Locke's theory is understood in the sense here

ascribed to it, some outstanding difficulties of its inter-
pretation may be resolved.
( 1) The problem inherent in the joint-stock interpreta-
tion of Locke's state is now no problem, for we have seen
how Locke considers that the state consists both of
property-ownerS only and of the whole population. He has
no difficulty, therefore, in thinking of the state as a joint-
stock company of owners whose majority decision binds
not only themselves but also their employees. The labor-
ing class, whose only asset is their capacity to labor, can-
not take part in the operations of the company at the same
level as the owners. Nevertheless, the laboring class is so
necessary to the operations of the company as to be an
organic part of it. The purpose of the company is not
only to keep the property it has, but also to preserve the
right and conditions which enable it to enlarge its prop-
erty; one of these conditions is a labor force effectively
submitted to the company's jurisdiction. Perhaps the cloS-
est analogue to Locke's state is the joint-stock company
of merchants trading with or planting in distant lands,
whose charter gives them, or allows them to take, such
jurisdiction over the natives or the transplanted labor force
as the nature of the trade requires.
(:2) The implicit contradiction in that interpretation of
Locke's theory which emphasizes the supremacy of the
majority is also explained. The inconsistency', it will be
remembered, was between the assertion of majority rule
and the insistence on the sanctity of individual property.
What would happen if the propertyless were a majority?
This was no fanciful problem. It had been raised in the
debates between the Levellers and the Independents in
226 C. B. Macpherson
the parliamentary army during the civil wars.36 It was a
real difficulty in Locke's day, for it was thought that the
propertyless were a majority.37 We can now see that there
is no conflict between the assertion of majority rule and
of property right inasmuch as Locke was assuming that
only those with property were full members of civil society
and thus of the majority.
( 3) Various inconsistencies left unexplained in Locke
by the liberal-individualist interpretation can also be re-
solved. Mr. Gough asks, for instance, whether Locke can
really have believed, as he did (§ 140), "that the consent
of a majority of representatives was the same as a man's
own consent, from which it is, in fact, twice removed?"38
Locke can easily have thought sq if he was thinking pri-
marily of the defense of property owners as a whole. His
equation of a man's own consent with the consent of the
majority makes sense only if he was thinking in this way.
Locke was very well aware that there were differences of
interest between the landed men, the merchants, and the
monied men, differences which he saw sharply demon-
strated in struggles over the incidence of taxation. 30 In
these circumstances, the fact that he could identify indi-
vidual and majority consent to taxation indicates that he
was thinking of the defense of property as such. Locke
could assume, as a man of property himself, that the com-
mon interest of propertied men was more important than
their divergent interests as owners of land, or of money,
or of mercantile stock. .
(4) The debate about whether Locke was an individ-
ualist or a "collectivist," whether he put the purposes of
the individual or the purposes of society first, now appears
in a new light. When the fundamental quality of Locke's
individualism is kept in mind, the controversy becomes
meaningless. His individualism does not consist entirely in
maintaining that individuals are by nature free and equal
36 A. S. P. Woodhouse, ed., Puritanism and Liberty (London:
Dent, 1938), esp. pp. 53-63.
37 Cf. King's estimate, cited above, n. 12..
880p. cit., p. 69.
8D Considerations, in Works (1759), II, 36, 29.
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 227
and can only be rightfully subjected to the jurisdiction of
others by their own consent. The main significance of
Locke's individualism is that it makes the individual the
natural proprietor of his own person and capacities, owing
nothing to society for them.
Such an individualism is necessarily collectivism (in
the sense of asserting the supremacy of civil society over
every individual). For it asserts an individuality that can
be realized fully only in accumulating property, and,
therefore, realized only by some at the expense of the indi-
viduality of the others. To permit such a society to func-
tion, political authority must be supreme over individuals;
if it is not, there can be no assurance that the property
institutions essential to this kind of individualism will
have adequate protection. Individuals who have the means
to realize their personalities (that is, the propertied) do
not need to reserve any rights against civil society, since
civil society is constructed by and for them, and operated
by and for them. All they need to do is insist that civil
society, or the majority of themselves, is supreme over any
government, for a particular government might otherwise
get out of hand. Locke did not hesitate to allow individuals
to hand over to civil society all their natural rights and
powers, including specifically all their possessions and
land (§§ 120, 128, 136), or, what comes to the same
thing, to grant all the rights and powers necessary to the
ends for which society was formed (§§ 99, 129, 131), the
majority being the judge (§ 97). The wholesale transfer
of individual rights was necessary to get sufficient collec-
tive force for the protection of property. Locke could af-
ford to propose this transfer because the civil society was
to be in the control of the men of property. Under these
circumstances individualism must, and could safely, be
left to the collective supremacy of the state.
The notion that individualism and "collectivism" are
the opposite ends of a scale along which states and theories
of the state can be arranged, regardless of the stage of
social development in which they appear, is superficial and
misleading. Locke's individualism, that of an emerging
capitalist society, does not exclude, but on the contrary
228 C. B. Macpherson
demands, supremacy of the state over the individual. It
is not a question of the more individualism, the less col-
lectivism; rather, the more thoroughgoing the individual-
ism, the more complete the collectivism. Hobbes's theory
is the supreme illustration of this relation, but his denial
of traditional natural law and his failure to provide guar-
antees for property against the sovereign (whether a ma-
jority of the people or an absolute monarch) did not rec-
ommend his views to those who thought property the
central social fact. Locke was more acceptable because of
his ambiguity about natural law and because he provided
some sort of guarantee for property rights. When the spe-
cific quality of seventeenth-century bourgeois individual-
ism is seen in this light, it is no longer necessary to search
for a compromise between Locke's individualist and col-
lectivist statements; they imply each other.
( 5) Locke's constitutionalism now becomes more in-
telligible; it need not be minimized or emphasized. It can
be seen for what it is, a defense of the rights of expanding
property rather than of the rights of the individual against
the state.
We may notice, in this respect, that Locke did not
think it desirable (whereas the Levellers in the Agree-
ment of the People had thought it essential) to reserve
some rights to the individual against any parliament or
government. Locke's state does not directly protect any
individual rights. The individual's only safeguard against
arbitrary government lies in the right of the majority to
say when a government has broken its trust to act always
in the public good, never arbitrarily. Locke could assume
that this supremacy of the majority constituted a sufficient
safeguard for individual rights because he thought that all
who had the right to be consulted were agreed on one con-
cept of the public good: maximizing the nation's wealth,
and thereby (as he saw it) its welfare. This agreement
could be postulated only because he thought that the la-
boring class had no right to be consulted. Locke's consti-
tutionalism is essentially a defense of the supremacy of
property-not that of the yeoman only, but more especially
The Social Bearing of Locke's Political Theory 229

that of the men of substance to whom the security of un-

limited accumulation was of first importance.
Locke's insistence that the authority of the government
("the legislative") is limited and fiduciary, dependent on
the consent of the majority of taxable persons, or on that
majority's interpretation of the government's faithfulness
to its trust, is not the primary part of his whole theory.
He had to develop limitations on government because he
had first constructed the other part, i.e., the total subordi-
nation of the individual to civil society. Both parts were
necessary for any theory which sought to protect and pro-
mote the property institutions, and thereby the kind of
society, to secure which a civil war, a restoration, and a
further revolution had been necessary. If in 1689 the con-
finement of arbitrary government had a more obvious im-
mediacy, subordination of the individual to the state had
at least as lasting a significance. The \Vhig revolution
not only established the supremacy of parliament over the
monarchy but also consolidated the position of the men
of property-specifically of those men who were using their
property in the new way, as capital employed to yield
profit-over the laboring class. Locke's theory served the
\Vhig state in both respects.
We have seen how Locke, by carrying into his postulates
the implicit assumptions of class differential rationality
and rights (derived from his comprehension of his own
society), reached an ambiguous theory of differential
membership in civil society, a theory which justified a
class state from postulates of equal individual natural
rights. Ambiguity about membership concealed from
Locke himself the contradiction in his individualism,
which produced full individuality for some by consuming
the individuality of others. Locke could not have been
conscious that the individuality he championed was at
the same time a denial of individuality. Such conscious-
ness was not to be found in men who were just beginning
to grasp the great possibilities for individual freedom
which lay in the advancement of capitalist society. The
contradiction was there, but these men could not recog-
nize it, let alone resolve it. Locke was at the fountainhead
230 C. B. Macpherson
of English liberalism. The greatness of seventeenth-
century liberalism was its assertion that the free rational
individual was the criterion of the good society; its tragedy
was that this very assertion necessarily denied individual-
ism to half the nation.
 LOCKE AND THE DICTATORSHIP
OF THE BOURGEOISIEI
ALAN RYAN

It is a commonplace, but true, that the two tenns on

which Locke rests the greatest weight of doctrine in the
Second Treatise are 'consent' and 'property'. It is with
the second of these tenns that we are here concerned,
and in particular with the use which Locke makes of his
doctrine that:
'The great and chief end therefore, of Mens uniting
into Commonwealths, and putting themselves under
Covernment, is the Preservation of their Pro/Jerty.'2
There has been a good deal of criticism levelled at Locke's
account of property from one direction or another. Com-
plaints of wild and absurd individualisms contrast with
assertions of his collectivist leanings. 4 Complaints about
his obsession with history that never happened 5 contrast
with assertions of his intense interest in, and the great im-
portance to his theory of, sociology, history and anthro-
pology,8 in as genuine a fonn as the seventeenth century
knew them. Here we'shall concentrate on a different issue,
namely on the extent to which it is true that Locke's ac-
From Political Studies, Vol. XIII (1965). Reprinted by per-
mission of the author and of the Clarendon Press, Oxford.
1 I should like to say how much lowe to the late G. A. Paul
in this paper; it amounts to a good deal as to doctrine, and all
but everything as to method.
2 See 124, cf. 134 (all refs. to Laslett edition).
8 Vaughan: Studies in the History of Political Philosophy.
4 Kendall: John Locke and Majority Rule.
r; Gough: John Locke's Political Philosophy.
6 Cox: Locke on War and Peace.
232 Alan Ryan
count of property, and his resultant account of natural
rights, political obligation, and the proper functions of
government, form an ideology for a rising capitalist class.
My question is How far does what Locke says in the Sec-
ond Treatise substantiate Macpherson's7 thesis that he
was providing-perhaps no more than half-consciously-a
moral basis for the dictatorship of the bourgeoisie?
One initial clarification of the scope of my discussion
of this question is needed. Macpherson uses a good deal
of material from outside the Second Treatise to substanti-
ate his view of it. Indeed his working assumption seems
often enough to be that we should look for Locke's politi-
cal theory outside the Second Treatise and then see if
previously ambiguous passages in that work (numerous
enough on anyone's reading) will square with the theory
obtained elsewhere. This may be a method appropriate
to a historical inquiry into Locke's political intentions; it
may yield the historian a coherent and convincing answer
to the question of what Locke really meant. Here, how-
ever, I take the alternative path of attempting to find
within the Second Treatise alone some coherent doctrine
of political right and obligation, based on what Locke says
there about property. Such an account may perhaps be in
danger of refutation by the historian as an account of what
Locke intended. It is in less, even no, danger of contradic-
tion from such a quarter as an account of what Locke said.
And in case this is thought too small a claim, let me point
out that we usually hold people to what they say, rather
than to what they may suppose to follow from what they
meant to say.
The essence of Macpherson's account is that Locke in-
tends to supply the moral basis of that stage of economic
advance which we have called the dictatorship of the bour-
geoisie; this is a state of unrestrained capitalism, brutal in
its treatment of the labouring classes, ruthless in its de-
7 Macpherson: Political Theory of Possessive Individualism,
ch. V. cf. "Locke on Capitalist Appropriation," Western Political
Quarterly, Vol. IV (1951), pp. 550-66 and "The Social Bearing
of Locke's Political TheolY," reprinted in this volume, pp. 199-
230 above.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 233
struction of traditional values, of all social ties that impede
the advance of the propertied classes. Locke is thus argu-
ing for nothing less than the rightful absolute power of
the propertied classes, for a morally justified tyranny of
the employers over the employed. Indeed, the labouring
and the unemployed classes have their rights so ruthlessly
eroded that their status is to be subject to civil society
without being full members of it; they are in it but not of
it. TIle state of nature that Locke envisages must there-
fore be such that these elements of the bourgeois state
follow from it. Crediting Locke as no-one has done be-
fore, with a logically rigorous deduction of civil society
from the state of nature, Macpherson argues that every-
thing in the state of nature conceived by Locke was put
there by him for the purpose of generating some feature
or other of bourgeois society. The misery, the viciousness,
and the instabilities of the resulting society are attnouted
to 'contradictions' put into the state of nature by Locke.
I need not emphasize how different is this Locke from the
one we have met before.

The twin pivots upon which Macpherson's account

turns are the premises he ascribes to Locke of the natural
proprietorship of one's own labour, and the dependence
of freedom and morality, and hence of citizenship, upon
the possession of rationality. These are, of course, impor-
tant clements in Locke's political theory; to Macpherson
they account for the whole of this theory. They are central,
vital, and closely connected. Rationality is evinced by
(sometimes it seems that Macpherson is saying it is iden-
tified with) the ability to acquire goods and go on acquir-
ing them up to the limits set by the Law of Nature. A
rational man is one who obeys the law of Reason, and the
law of reason is in tum the Law of Nature, and this is the
will of God. Given such a gloss on what it is to be rational,
the argument clearly runs that it is morally excellent to
accumulate, that success in accumulating is a moral virtue,
234 Alan Ryan
and hence that the man of property is of greater moral
worth than the man without property. In the state of na-
ture before the invention of money the title to property is
given by labour, for in the state of nature each man is
originally the unconditional owner of his own labour. This
doctrine is, on Macpherson's account of it, an important
and indeed a decisive break with medieval attitudes to
labour and property, which were concerned to emphasize
the obligations of a man to society and to his fellows, not
his rights against them. So the rational man sets about
accumulating property, and because his right to it is de-
rived from his absolute right to his own labour, this right
is absolute, too.
'If it is labour, a man's absolute property, which justi-
fies appropriation and creates rights, the individual
right of appropriation overrides any moral claims of
the society. The traditional view that property and
labour were social functions and that the ownership
of property involved social obligations, is thereby
undermined.s
Thus Locke secures the right to unlimited accumulation.
But in the state of nature before the invention of money
there are two limitations upon the exercise of this right.
The first is that 'enough and as good' must be left for
others,9 which one may call the sufficiency limitation. The
second is that nothing may spoil in the hands of the per-
son who gathers it:
'As much as anyone can make use of to any advan-
tage of life before it spoils; so much he may by his
labour fix a Property in. Whatever is beyond this, is
more than his share, and belongs to others. Nothing
was made by God for Man to spoil or destroy.'lO
This we may call the spoliation limitation. There is a
third apparent limitation imposed by the labour criterion
of ownership, namely that a man must mix his labour with
whatever he appropriates. l l This limitation lies at the
heart of what one might call 'radical' labour theories of
S Macpherson p. 221. 9 Sees. 27, 33, 35.
10 Sees. 31, 37, 38, 46. 11 e.g. at sec. 27.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 235
value, where the intention is to deny any title to property
other than the title of manual labour. The obvious simi-
larity between Locke's premises and those of all labour
theorists leads many writers to suppose that he shares, or
at any rate should have shared, this conclusion; but as we
shall see, it is an important part of Macpherson's case
that Locke never intended such a limitation at all. The
two initial limitations are transcended by the invention of
money. They are not broken or cast aside; rather, the sort
of conditions under which they are applicable no longer
obtain. The invention of money is seen by Locke as the
discovery of:
' .. some lasting thing that Men might keep without
spoiling, and that by mutual consent Men would take
in exchange for the truly useful, but perishable Sup-
ports of Life.'12
Although a man may by purchase acquire more land than
he can use the immediate product of, he still leaves
enough and as good for other men. It is true that this is
not enough land and as good as that appropriated-though
Locke seems at times to want to argue that even this is
true-but rather that the standard of living is at least as
good as before for everyone else.1s That is, even when all
the land is appropriated, the general standard of living is
improved for everyone, even for the landless, because the
invention of money has enabled the rational capitalist to
apply his skills and labour to land and raw material that
were formerly of little or no value to mankind. Locke puts
a good deal of stress on this:
'For I aske whether in the wild woods and unculti-
vated wast of America left to Nature, without any
improvement, tillage or husbandry, a thousand acres
will yield the needy and wretched inhabitants as
many conveniences of life as ten acres of equally fer-
tile land doe in Devonshire where they are well cuI-
tivated.'14
Besides this transcending of the sufficiency limitation,
there is now no risk of infringing the spoliation limitation.
12 Sec. 47. 13 Sees. 37, 41. 14 Sec. 37.
236 .Alan Ryan
For money does not decay, so however much of it a man
has, he has no fears of it perishing uselessly in his posses-
sion. A man may heap up gold and silver ad infinitum:
' . . . he might heap up as much of these durable
things as he pleased; the exceeding of the bounds of
his just Property not lying in the largeness of his
Possession, but the perishing of anything uselessly in
it.'15
As for thc third limitation, Locke never meant it to hold.
TIle crucial point about Locke's calling labour a form of
property is not that it is a peculiar and sacred form of
property, but that being property it is alienable; in the
state of nature as elsewhere, men must be supposed free
to exchange their labour for subsistence or for a wage.
(Indeed they must, if Locke's fantasy of a pre-political
market economy is to make any sense.) In his support
Macpherson quotes Locke's equation of 'my' labour with
the labour of my servant. The passage runs:
'Thus the Grass my Horse has bit; the Turfs my Serv-
ant has cut; and the Ore I have digg'd in any place
where I have a right to them in common with others,
become my Property, without the assignation or con-
sent of anybody. The labour that was mine, removing
them out of that common state they were in, hath
fixed my Property in them.'16
The only meaning that such a passage will bear indicates
that Locke never doubted that one man could appropriate
the labour of another and thus become the owner of it.
'My' labour includes the labour of anyone I employ;
hence the requirement that we mix 'our' labour with what-
ever we appropriate imposes no limits on the right to
appropriate.
Given that it is morally excellent to accumulate prop-
erty, whether consumable or durable, but particularly the
latter, and given that the invention of money enables such
accumulation to go on indefinitely, certain consequences
for Locke's political theory may be drawn. Macpherson
15 Sec. 46. 16 Sec. 2.8.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 237
not only goes on to draw them, but holds that Locke drew
them too, and, further that Locke regarded them as the
most important parts of his theory. The first is that
Locke's wide definition of property as: 'Lives, Liberties,
and Estates, which I call by the general Name Property'17
is not the one usually adhered to, and is not the one in-
volved in the crucial sections of the Second Treatise deal-
ing with the limits on the authority of any government
and with the right of the people to rebel against govern-
ments which they find oppressive. IS In these passages,
says Macpherson, 'property' means what we normally
mean by the term, and refers particularly to property in
fixed capital goods. From this it follows that 'the people'
to whom Locke entrusts the right of rebellion cannot be
the whole population, but must be the propertied classes
only. The grounds of revolt are comprised under the head-
ing of the government failing to preserve the property of
its citizens; since very few people have any property, only
this small number have any right to rebel. Labourers with-
out property are in any case not fully rational-as demon-
strated by the fact that they have no property-and there-
fore have no claim to full membership of civil society.
'\V11ile the labouring class is a necessary part of the
nation its members are not in fact full members of
the body politic and have no claim to be so . •
Whether by their own fault or not, members of the
labouring class did not have, could not be expected to
have, and were not entitled to have full membership
in political society.'19
As something less than full members of political society,
they are objects of administration rather than citizens.
This part of Macpherson's case is a crucial one, and my
criticism of Macpherson's interpretation of Locke is
largely concerned with this part of his account. An added
merit Macpherson claims for his account is that it dis-
poses of such riddles as Locke's basing obligation upon
consent. If 'the people' are in fact the propertied classes,
17 Sec. 124. 18 Macpherson pp. 198, 230-1, 247-50.
19 Macpherson pp.221, 227.
238 Alan Ryan
then they will readily give their consent to whatever the
legislative enacts, since what it enacts will always be in
their class-interest, and the interest of the class against
the rest of society is more vital to each member of it than
is his own interest against other members of his class. TIle
state has thus become a committee for managing the com~
mon interests of bourgeoisie. Naturally this also solves the
clash between the individualist and collectivist elements
in Locke's thought. To behave as an extreme individualist
is to behave as a successful capitalist, and this is to achieve
moral excellence; it is however a form of moral excellence
only possible at the expense of those against whom one
competes successfully, and of those whose labour one uses
to enrich oneself. Hence what is needed by the individual-
ists is a strong government which will hold the ring for
their competition. Its strength is no threat to them, since
it is a blatant instrument of class-rule; the tough capitalist
does not require protection from his fellows.
'The individuals who have the means to realize their
personalities (that is, the propertied) do not need to
reserve any rights as against civil society, since civil
society is constructed by and for them, and run by
and for them.'20
The propertied class has a coherent, cohesive interest in
maintaining its position vis Ii vis the labouring classes.
Individual rights thus disappear; the labouring classes have
none, the propertied class needs none. Similarly the oft
noted analogy between Locke's civil society and a joint-
stock company takes on a new aspect. Locke
' ••• would have no difficulty in thinking of the state
as a joint-stock company of owners whose majority
decision binds not only themselves, but also their em-
ployees.'!1
The only shareholders in the firm are the board of direc-
tors. The workers are employed to maximize the wealth of
the firm, but have no say in the running of the company.
Thus the domination of the state by the rising bourgeoisie
is complete; its goals are their goals; its machinery is their
!O Macpberson p. 256• 21 Macpberson p. 251.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 239
machinery; its decisions are their decisions. Their power
over the labouring proletariat is absolute, and it is rightly
so.

II

Macpherson supports this account of the ideological

Locke with a good deal of quotation from the Second
Treatise; but it will be appreciated by anyone familiar
with that work and the variety of interpretation to which
it has given rise, that no conclusive argument emerges
from these quotations alone. The establishing of Locke as
a capitalist lackey rests heavily, therefore, on his economic
writings, where his attitude to the labouring poor, and
even more to the unemployed, is indubitably severe. Simi-
larly Locke's disparagement of the rationality of the poor
is drawn from the Reasonableness of Christianity. In the
light of a theory drawn from these sources it is not diffi-
cult to put the appropriate gloss on the ambiguous pas-
sages of the Second Treatise. (My objections to Macpher-
son are all based on the unambiguous passages to which
I fear -he pays less careful attention.) About these outside
sources I am sceptical. For one thing they cover a period
of forty years, and one may doubt both Locke's coqsistency
over that period and his remaining interested in precisely
the same problems for so long. For a second, thing, the
Reasonableness of Christianity was largely written to point
out that the detailed disputes of the sects were beyond the
scope of anybody's reason, and its moral hardly seems to
be that the working class is peculiarly irrational. It may be
an ungracious response to so exciting an account as Mac-
pherson's, but the impression made by his welding to-
gether of all this disparate evidence into a tough, lucid,
and consistent theory is that of an interpretative tour de
force rather than of a natural or convincing account of
Locke.
Confining ourselves to the Second Treatise, there is
ample room for doubt about Macpherson's account, and
some plainly unambiguous statements by Locke that flatly
240 Alan Ryan
contradict it. On the issue of rationality, for example, it is
true that this is Locke's basis for knowledge of the moral
law and hence the basis for being able to obey it. But it is
quite incredible that Locke intends us to believe it is the
property of one class only, or that he thinks it is chiefly
displayed in the acquisition of capital goods. It is stated
explicitly by Locke that very nearly all men are rational
enough to know what the Law of Nature requires of them,
though most men are little enough inclined always to obey
it:
'The State of Nature has a Law of Nature to govern
it, which obliges everyone; and Reason which,is that
Law teaches all mankind who will but consult
it .. :22
The problem is not that some people have not the ability
to know what the Law requires of them, but that they will
not take the trouble to think that they are morally obliged
to do, or if they do take that trouble they will not take the
trouble to do what they are morally obliged to. The rea-
son, in general, why the Law of Nature is not enough is
human selfishness and not human intelligence. In fact the
only qualification Locke places on the general possession
of rationality is that of age or mental defect:
'. . ,'we are born Free, as we are born Rational; not
that we have actually the exercise of either; Age that
brings one, brings with it the other toO: 23
The only persons other than the young who are not quali-
fied by rationality are
'Lhnaticks and Jdeots. . . . Madmen'24
who hardly seem to be coextensive with the whole class
of the labouring poor whom Locke is said to have written
off as non-rational. Moreover, this statement by Locke
comes only one chapter after the account of property
rights in which the erosion of the rationality of the prop-
ertyless is supposed to have occurred. The total absence of
any sign that Locke was sliding into the doctrine which is
22 Sec. 6 cf. 12. &c. 23 Sec. 61. 24 Sec. 60.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 241

said to be his considered opinion leaves us with no grounds

for supposing that the mere absence of property in the
sense of capital goods is sufficient to deny citizenship to
persons who, by all normal tests, are sane and rational
when they reach years of discretion.
Moreover, there is a good deal of confusion in Macpher-
son's account of what is supposed by Locke to be the dis-
tinctively rational feature about capitalist accumulation.
There is initially a good deal of confusion in Locke too,
but Macpherson does not so much clear this up as ignore
it in favour of a doctrine which he attributes to Locke, ap-
parently for no better cause than that it is the doctrine
which a moralizing capitalist ought to have held. The only
consistent line for Locke to take is fairly simple, and the
elements of it are at least hidden in the account of prop-
erty rights he does give. The Will of God, which he identi-
fies with the Law of Nature and the demands of Reason,
requires all men to be preserved as far as possible. The
man who appropriates land, employs his skill upon it, and
thus enriches mankind, is thereby obeying the demands of
reason, that is, he is being rational. This is Locke's argu-
ment in a number of places. He refers initially to the
right that each man has of preserving all mankind 25-a
'right' which is better termed a duty. He argues that the
man who encloses land and works it confers a benefit upon
mankind; almost everything required for a civilized exist-
ence is due to the skill and effort which men have lavished
upon the raw materials supplied by nature. In one passage
he begins with the assertion:
'I think it will be but a very modest Computation to
say, that of the Products of. the Earth useful to the
Life of Man nine out of ten are the effects of La-
bour.'26
Just how modest he thinks this computation to be appears
soon enough:
' . . . nay, if we will rightly estimate things as they
come to our use, and cast up the several Expences
about them, what in them is purely owing to Nature,
25 e.g. sec. 11. 26 Sec. 40.
242 Alan Ryan
and what to labour, we shall find, that in most of
them ninety-nine out of one hundred are wholly to be
put on the account of labour.'27
And a moment later the proportion becomes 999 parts in
1,000.28 The invention of money allows this process to be
carried to the lengths typical of a developed economy.
Thus the labourer, along with society generally, benefits
from the activities of the capitalists. And this is the ra-
tionale of capitaI:sm. But, what is the incentive for the
capitalist himself? According to Macpherson, Locke holds
that capitalists develop their personalities in capitalism;
but Locke says nothing of the sort, and in any case, it is
both an unconvincing and vacuous account of the matter.
What does it amount to beyond the assertion that people
who want to become capitalists gratify their wish if they
do become capitalists? Locke in fact is confused. At one
point he suggests that nothing more than a fanciful liking
for gold is at the bottom of it-but the rationality of piling
up prettily coloured stones and metals is not clear. The
value of money, of course, is a fancy value not in the sense
of being a fanciful value, but in the sense of being an
agreed or conventional value. But Locke does sometimes
equate this with having no value at all. When he refuses
to allow the conqueror the right to the conquered's terri-
tory, he excludes money thus:
'For as to Money, and such Riches and Treasure
taken away, these are none of Natures Goods, they
have but a Phantastical imaginary value: Nature has
put no such upon them . . .'29
This clearly confuses conventional value and no value at
all. The explanation of the good sense of capitalism that
Locke hints at elsewhere, which makes a sound case, had
three elements in it. The first is that men have come to
have more wants than nature gave them; they desire more
than they absolutely need; clearly the day labourer living
at English subsistence level is much better off than the
Indian king living at a high standard for a savage; a ra-
27 Sec. 40 • 28 Sec. 43. 29 Sec. 184 d. sec. 46.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the'Bourgeoisie 243
tional man will clearly join in this better consumption-
an explanation of the inducement to become a capitalist
which Macpherson rejects, but which makes good sense.
But, on occasion Locke identifies the desire of having more
than we need with simple greed, and suggests that the
pre-monetary state of nature was a Golden Age.so In
which case, the capitalist is not merely not rational, not
morally excellent, but positively corrupt. (Macpherson's
defence3l that the condemnation of greed applies not to
the capitalist but to the property-less who covet the capi-
talists' goods is clever, but is impossible to reconcile what
Locke says about the earliest governments ruling a simple
society. It is the whole state of society, not that of a single
class which Locke commends or disapproves, and he clearly
places the arrival of greed at the time of the invention of
money.) 32 The second element is that we have already
discussed, namely the argument that the capitalist is mor-
ally bound to promote the well-being of society; and
Locke tends-as we noted in the case where he terms a
duty a 'right'-to equate being bound by reason with want-
ing to do what reason tells one. So for Locke doing what is
right can be something the capitalist gets out of being a
capitalist. The third element is Locke's suggestion that a
man will want to provide for other people to whom he
feels an obligation or perhaps for those to whom he sim-
ply wants to give his goods. Giving away is a recognized
form of use.33 Of these three elements, only the first
is a genuine prudential consideration which would allow
us to say that the capitalist was being rational in the pru-
dential sense rather than in the moral sense. It is plainly
the account which Locke ought to have taken to match
his conventionalist account of money. For if money h,as a
conventional value within some society or other, then the
whole point of getting rich is to be able to share the ad-
vantages of that society's economy to an increased extent.
It seems that Macpherson confuses further what Locke
confuses sufficiently. The only consistent line to be found
in Locke is that capitalism is rational-morally-because it
80 Sec. 111. SlMacphelson pp. 236-7. 82 Sec. 108.
83 Sec. 46.
244 Alan Ryan
is a step to the bettenncnt of society, and that being a
capitalist is rational-prudentially-because it enables one
to enjoy a greater share of the bettennent. A man's share
in the greater social product is both his incentive and his
reward. But so simple a doctrine as this is far indeed from
fulfilling the requirements of Macpherson's theory.
This becomes clearer when we examine Macpherson's
curious assertion that property rights are absolute because
labour rights are so. The labour theory of proprietorship
has been much misunderstood by Macpherson. It begins
not as a theory of proprietorship but as theory of identifi-
cation.34 Locke says of the diet of the Indian:
'The Fruit, or Venison, which nourishes the wild In-
dian, who knows no Inclosure, and is still a Tenant in
common, must be his, and so his, i.e. a part of him,
that another can no longer have any right to it, before
it can do him any good for the support of his Life.'33
But the sense in which food must belong to a man before
it can do him any good is a biological one-namely he has
to eat it; and the sense in which an Indian's nourishment
is his is a logical one-namely that we can only identify
nourishment by identifying the man nourished. This is
not to talk of rights at all, and pa,rticularly not to talk of
absolute rights. It is a very dangerous way of talking, for it
swiftly confuses the 'his' of identification with the 'his' of
ownership or rightful possession. Thus, there is a perfectly
good sense in which: 'The Labour of his Body, and the
Work of his Hands we may say, are properly his.'s6 But
this sense needs elucidating. In one sense it is bound to be
'his', as it is a truth of logic that only he can do his labour-
ing, and in this sense, whomever he labours for, it is still
'his' labour. But this does not establish that the only per-
son entitled to benefit from his labour is himself. It is
moreover impossible to reconcile Locke's concern for the
rights of wives and children with the right to be absolutely
selfish which Macpherson ascribes to Locke's natural man.
84 See J. P. Day's review of Macpherson's book, Philosophical
Quarterly, Vol. 11 (1964), pp. 26~8.
85 Sec. 26. 6 Sec. 27.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 245
The confusion may be as much Locke's fault as anyone's,
but it is fair to point out that Locke never talks of an 'ab-
solute' right to anything at all. Customarily accepted moral
obligations are not mentioned-or not often-but this
might well !Je because Locke took them for granted, not
because he did not accept them. Locke's concern after all
was to defend men against royal force and robbery, and
this is not a category which includes the demands of
friends and family. The point of Locke's initial account of
the right to goods given by labour is surely negative. He is
faced with the question of how undifferentiated goods be-
come the exclusive property of some one man; and the
answer is that where there is plenty for everyone, acquisi-
tion and ownership need not be distinguished. If a man
acquires something without breaking the laws of nature in
the manner of his acquiring it, that is enough. The answer
to the question '\Vho has it?' serves as the answer to the
question 'Who has it?'. Macpherson's emphasis on the
absence of obligation to society is odd in view of the fact
that at this point the conditions which create social ties do
not exist at all; and the minimal obligation of leaving
enough and as good for whomever may chance along is
surely some sort of obligation, while obligations to one's
family presumably exist at this rudimentary stage too.
And Locke says clearly enough that when a man enters
society he has his social title to his goods on society's
termsS7-a pre-echo of Rousseau. This after all is Locke's
consistent line; we enter society to protect our property, so
we must be prepared to contribute our fair share of what-
ever is required for this defence, and society must judge
what it needs for the successful performance of its func-
tions. If property includes life, limb, liberty, and pos-
sessions, then some pay taxes, but all forgo their natural
liberty, and all are liable for the defence of the country
from enemies external and internal.38
If we are correct in arguing that talk of 'absolute' prop-
erty is seriously misleading and that no sort of absolute
ownership is involved in either life, liberty or goods, on all
87 Sec. 120. 38 Sees. 128-30'
246 Alan Ryan
of which there can be claims, then there seems less reason
than ever to suppose that Locke restricts the meaning of
'property' to fixed property in goods, or to suppose that he
is engaged in an attempt to deprive the proletariat of all
political rights for the benefit of th'e employing classes.
The only essential characteristic that property possesses
is that property is that of which a man cannot be deprived
without his consent; for example, Locke says of the rights
of the conquered under the conqueror:
'. . . whatsoever he grants them, they have so far as it
is granted, property in. The nature whereof is, that
without a Man's own consent it cannot be taken from
him.'SD
And elsewhere, it is the absence of this characteristic that
removes a possession from the position of actually being a
man's property:
'For I have truly no Property in that, which another
can by right, take from me, when he pleases, against
my consent.'40
This characteristic applies for Locke to all goods both
bodily and mental, save one's own life, which one cannot
dispose of by contract, but which one can lose the right to
by a sufficient breach of the natural law. It is significant
that Macpherson's view of the power exercised over the
property-less is that of Locke; it is despotic power, absolute
and arbitrary, a power which Locke explicitly contrasts
with political power. And it is crucially important to no-
tice that the only case of despotic power allowed by Locke,
and hence by inference the only case he allows of a man
without property, is power over the renegade against rea-
son and society:
'. • • Despotical Power is an absolute, arbitrary power
One man has over another, to take away his life, when-
ever he pleases. This is a power, which neither nature
gives . . . . nor compact can convey • . • . but it is
the effect only of forfeiture, which the aggressor
makes of his own life, when he puts himself into the
state of war with another.41
8DSec. 195. "OSee. 138. 41 See. 172.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 247
Of political power he says in the next paragraph:
'(By Property I must be understood here, as in other
places, to mean that property which men have in
their persons as well as goods.) Voluntary Agreement
gives . . . . Political Power to Governours for the
benefit of their subjects, to secure them in the posses-
sion and use of their properties: 42
And this power is immediately contrasted with power over
the property-less:
'And Forfeiture gives the third, Despotical Power
to Lords for their own benefit, over those who are
stripp'd of all property:43
And finally he sums up:
'Paternal Power is only where minority makes the
child incapable to manage his property; Political
where men have property in their own disposal; and
Despotical over such as have no property at an: 44
This seems to me conclusive enough against Macpherson's
thesis that 'property' is to be read as if it referred only
to property in goods. An obvious consequence, however,
that we must draw is that if we accept Locke's wide read-
ing of property as bona civilia, or 'life, liberty, health, and
indolency of body; and the possession of outward things
such as money, lands, houses, furniture, and the Iike,'45
then it is clear that we must accept the whole population
who have reached years of discretion as being the 'people'
for the purposes of entrusting them with the right of revo-
lution. That Locke did so is shown clearly by what he
considers as a possible objection to his doctrine:
'To this perhaps it will be said, that the people being
ignorant, and always discontented, to lay the founda-
tion of Government in the unsteady opinion, and un-
certain humour of the people, is to expose it to cer-
tain ruine.'46
His reply does not matter: what is important is how this
contradicts Macpherson's picture of Locke. Locke is hardly
42 Sec. 173. 43 Sec. 173. 44 Sec. 174.
45 Lasletl's note to sec. 3. 46 Sec. 22.3.
248 Alan Ryan
likely to think it a plausible criticism of the rising capita}..
ists that they are ignorant or unsteady of opinion or un-
certain of humour. One verbal point that might lead one
into accepting Macpherson's account is Locke's talk of
'deputies' and 'representatives'; it is easy enough to slip
into thinking that this involves electing M.P .s-and of
course no-one suggests that Locke is advocating universal
suffrage. But, if we recall that Locke counts a monarch,
ruling without a council, or a permanent oligarchy, as
legislatives in precisely the same sense as the English
King-in-Parliament is a legislative, it becomes clear that
to be represented is not necessarily to have voted.47 Mac-
pherson may still be willing to argue that the labourer is
not a 'full member' of civil society-but the trouble here
is that Locke talks only of members, and never distin-
guishes between full and any other sort of membership.
The passage Macpherson rests his case on is an oddity, and
is anyway concerned with distinguishing the status of for-
eigners residing in a country from that of genuine subjects:
'And thus we see, that Foreigners, by living all their
lives under another Government, and enjoying the
priviledges and protection of it, though they are
bound, even in conscience, to submit to its adminis-
tration, as far forth as any Denison; yet do not
thereby come to be Subjects or Members of that
Commonwealth. Nothing can make any man so, but
his actually entering into it by positive engagement,
and express promise and compact.'48
Here it is the foreigner who is being contrasted with the
member or subject; Macpherson's contrast is between the
labourer who is a subject but not a member, and the prop-
ertied man who is both, a contrast of which the text is in-
nocent. The obligation that the labourer and the foreigner
incur, they incur along with the capitalist, for they have all
given their tacit consent by enjoying property:
'. . . whether this his possession be of land to him
and his heirs for ever, or a lodging only for a week; or
- whether it be barely travelling freely on the high-
way.'49
47 Sec. 138. 48 Sec. 122. 49 Sec. 119.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 249
If this puts the labourer on a level with the foreigner it
does so only by putting him on a level with his employer
too. Locke never solves the problem of why a man's first
country is thought to be his only country, but it is surely
implausible to suggest that he anticipated Marx in holding
that the proletarian has no country, only a class. It would
be a foolish doctrine for Locke to hold, since it would have
involved him in releasing labourers from the obligation to
defend their country against external enemies, and would
have meant that they could not be held guilty of such
crimes as treason. We cannot but conclude that if labour-
ers can be said to have a property-and we have seen no
reason why they cannot be-then they are members of civil
society. They receive benefits and accept corresponding
obligations. They may pay no taxes, but they lend their la-
bour and their strength to the defence of their society
against enemies internal and external:
'. . . the Power of Punishing he wholly gives up, and
engages his natural force (which he might before im-
ploy in the execution of the Law of Nature, by his
own single Authority, as he thought fit) to assist the
executive power of his society, as the law thereof shall
require.'50
Men allow society to regulate their lives, their liberties and
their possessions; all who have need of protection for any
of these things can receive it from civil society and thereby
become obliged by its rules. The state exists not for a class
but for all who are willing and able to use it on equitable
terms.

III

Although Macpherson's theory about Locke'$ doctrine is

thus falsified in so many details, it still presents a chal-
lenge to any critic. For its overall coherence and interest is
extremely impressive, even though its foundations are
shaky; and some of the detail-for example the exposition
IIOSec. 130 cf. 136.
250 Alan Ryan
of Locke's defence of unequal property rights-is superior
to anything yet produced on Locke. All discounting made
of the ideological overtones which Macpherson hears in
every word of Locke, the force of Macpherson's account
challenges one to produce some alternative picture that fits
the text better than his, but which takes notice of what is
most valuable in his account. Let us then agree that the
chapter Of Property is intended to justify the achievement
of the capitalist, and the reward he reaps. As we argued
above, the simplest argument for this is based on God's
will that all mankind should flourish. Given fair distribu-
tion, the greatest social product is the will of God, and the
dictate of reason. Locke never argues explicitly that the
distribution is fair, though the elements of the argument
required are there. They lie in the insistence that even the
worst off in modem society is better off than he would
be outside it, a thesis backed up by the ubiquitous Ameri-
can Indian; these latter it will be remembered:
'. . . have not one hundredth part of the Conven-
iences we enjoy: And a King of a large and fruitful
Territory there feeds, lodges and is clad worse than a
day Labourer in England.'51
And they lie too in the suggestion that it is the superior
ability and greater efforts of the capitalist that leads to his
greater wealth:
'And as different degrees of Industry were apt to give
Men Possessions in different proportions, so this In-
vention of Money gave them the opportunity to con-
tinue and enlarge them.'52
And perhaps, finally, in the suggestion that even now there
is some surplus land left:
'in some inland, vacant places of America.'63
Thus, the capitalist is worthy of his profit; that he is
worthy of all his profit Locke does not argue; perhaps his
laissez-toire inclinations were not so strong that he thought
it was true; perhaps they were so strong that he thought it
CilSec••p. G2Sec. 48. Ci3Sec. 36.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 251

needed no proving. The basic point, however, is simple

enough; since all men have profited by entering a market
society, there is no cause for complaint if some men have
done better than others.
But, here we part company with Macpherson. In Mac-
pherson's account, Locke now proceeds to pile political op-
pression on top of inequality of possessions. A more con-
vincing picture is that of Locke moving from the negative
point that the labourer and the capitalist were not at odds
to the positive task of showing that they have a shared in-
terest, a common ground of political obligation, and a com-
mon right to see to the maintenance of their interests. It
is indubitable that both are bound by the law; therefore
the law must give something to them both, in return for
which they are bound to obey it. And it is this something
which Locke calls:
' . . . the Preservation of their Property'54
or else:
the mutual Preservation of their Lives, Liber-
ties and Estates which I call by the general Name,
Property.'55
A common interest requires one term to describe it, even
though the most disparate things come as a result to shel-
ter under the name of 'property'. All the inhabitants of a
well-governed and well-organized country benefit from its
government-even resident foreigners-so they all have a
share in something; and whatever it is that they have a
share in Locke calls property. Peace and security are also
said by Locke to be the ends of government; men enter
civil society:
' . . . by stated Rules of Right and Property to secure
their Peace and Quiet.'56
All men require peace and security to lead tolerable lives,
so all men have so much property as requires government
for its preservation. It is, of course, odd to talk of all the
54 Sec. 124. 55 Sec. 12 3. 56 Sec. 137.
252 Alan Ryan
things that society protects as property, but the effect is
surely not that of setting up a bourgeois dictatorship so
much as finding some common interest shared by both the
proletarian and the bourgeois in a state which must often
have seemed to give nothing save to those who were rich
and powerful enough to need nothing from it. And the im-
portance of giving the proletariat and the bourgeoisie a
common interest is surely that their interests are opposed
to absolute monarchy; nothing could be clearer than that
the target of the Second Treatise is not the peaceful and
docile proletariat, but the doctrine that a monarch has an
absolute, and more particularly an arbitrary, power over
his subjects. This is a recurring theme of the whole trea-
tise, which might indeed have been subtitled a treatise
against arbitrariness and in favour of relevance in political
power. A large part of the chapter Of the Dissolution of
Government is a defence of regicide as a last measure
against a king who claims to have an absolute and arbitrary
authority over his people. 57 Despite occasionally light-
hearted manner in which he discusses the question of how
we are to join reverence with a knock on the head, Locke
commits himself to views which abundantly explain why
he did not wish to be known as the author of the work
during the lifetime of James II. Locke's bitterest attacks
are always on absolute monarchy, as when he says:
'Hence it is evident that Absolute Monarchy, which
by some men is counted the only Government in the
world, is indeed inconsistent with Civil Society.'58
or that:
'Absolute, arbitrary power, or governing without set-
tled standing Laws, can neither of them consist with
the ends of society and government.'59
or that:
'Absolute Dominion, however placed, is so far from
being one kind of civil society, that it is as incom-
patible with it, as slavery is with property.'60
118 Sec. 90. 59 Sec. 137. 60 Sec. 174.
Locke and the Dictatorship of the Bourgeoisie 253
It seems quite incredible that anyone should not take it as
an attack on the pretensions made by James II (or those
which he was suspected of being about to make) to the
position of a recipient of divinely granted power, and thus
to freedom from all human law and control. Locke's target
is arbitrariness rather than absoluteness; he goes into some
detail about martial law, which allows summary execution
for disobedience even to lethally dangerous orders, but
which will not allow a general to touch one penny of a
soldier's goods; the reason given by Locke is that this is:
'Because such a blind Obedience is necessary to that
end for which the Commander has his Power, viz the
preservation of the rest; but the disposing of his
Goods has nothing to do with it.'61
Locke generalizes the argument that authority is limited in
its scope to what is necessary to secure the ends for which
the authority is set up to cover the case of parliament, the
monarch and any other sort of authority. All rights are
limited by the ends they are meant to secure, and the right
to our obedience vested in our rulers is in exactly the same
case. Royal authority, in other words, depends not on the
person of the monarch, but on the good of the society. The
quarrel is not between bourgeoisie and proletariat, but be-
tween king and people. No doubt the people are but rarely
justified in revolution; but there is no question that they
have the right to rebel in extremis.
Even on this reading of Locke, his theory is still a bour-
geois one. It is beyond doubt a bourgeois mind which en-
visages all rights as property rights; it is also, more impor-
tantly for the political philosopher, a perceptive sort of
confusion that leads to such an identification. For 'prop-
erty' is not an inapt general name for the class or rights and
obligations that enter into social theory-quasi-contractual
rights and duties as they are. For in many ways property
rights, in the ordinary sense of 'property', are paradigms of
the rights that are exchanged and protected by contract.
But only a bourgeois mind could fail to see that they are
paradigmatic rather with respect to procedure than with
61 Sec. 139 •
••
254 Alan Ryan
respect to the importance of tIle ethical values involved.
They are paradigmatically contractual, but they are not the
most important contractual rights. But this still goes no
way towards justifying Macpherson's attributing to Locke a
ruthless, dictatorial programme of class-domination. In the
joint-stock company that is Locke's state, all men are share-
holders. Some men hold shares of life, liberty, peace, and
quiet alone, while others hold shares of estate as well; these
latter may receive more of the benefits and play a greater
part in the running of the state, but there is no reason to
suppose that in the eyes of God or Nature (or even in the
eyes of John Locke) their shares have a peculiar impor-
tance. Few or no practical conclusions follow readily from
Locke's account of political obligation; Macpherson's con-
clusions follow even less readily than the more egalitarian
and humane ones that have been drawn in the past.
 BERKELEY'S DENIAL OF MATERIAL
SUBSTANCE
C. D. BROAD

1. Preliminary Clarification. Before considering Berke-

ley's arguments it will be wise to ask what is commonly
understood by 'material substance,' and in what sense
Berkeley denied its existence. For he always maintains that
he is denying only the theories of certain scientists or phi-
losophers, e.g., the Newtonians, Descartes, and Locke. He
asserts that his own view admits the existence of all that
plain men understand by 'bodies' or 'material things'. It
will also be wise to clear up beforehand the notions of
'perception' and 'sensation'. These preliminaries will take
up a considerable part of the paper.
1.1. What do we understand by a 'material thing'? It is
always dangerous for philosophers to dogmatise about the
opinions of plain men. What one ascribes to them is in
fact an inference, drawn partly from one's introspection of
oneself in one's 'plainer' moments, and partly from the
phraseology of everyday speech in the few languages with
which one is familiar. There is always a risk of putting into
the mouths of babes and of sucklings what could have oc-
curred only to the wise and prudent. But, provided that
one is alive to the risks that one is taking, there is no great
harm in taking them.
It seems to me that a plain man means by a 'solid body'
or a 'bit of matter' something which has all the following
characteristics. (1) It is literally extended. It is bounded
by a closed surface and has an outside and a front. (2) It
From The Philosophical Review, Vol. LXIII ( 19 54 ). Re-
printed by permission of the author and The Phl1osophical Re-
view.
256 C. D. Broad
is literally pervaded throughout its volume and over its sur-
face with certain extensible qualities, e.g., colours, tempera-
ture, roughness or smoothness, and so on. (3) It is a centre
from which there emanate certain sensible 'atmospheres',
which form a kind of aura about it, e.g., a characteristic
field of sound in the case of a tolling bell or a waterfall, a
characteristic field of odour in the case of an apple, a field
of sensible warmth in the case of a radiator, and so on. (4)
Some of the qualities mentioned under headings (z) and
( 3 ) are revealed by some of our senses and others by
others. But the very same part of the same body, e.g., the
upper face of a certain coin, has at the same time qualities
proper to various senses, e.g., colour, temperature, and
textural qualities. It has temperature and texture when one
is looking at it and not touching it and therefore is sensibly
aware only of its colour; and it has colour when one is
touching it and not looking at it and therefore is sensibly
aware only of its temperature and its texture. Moreover, it
has temperature, when one is only looking at it, in pre-
cisely the same sense in which it has temperature when one
is feeling it; and when one is only touching it it has colour
in precisely the same sense in which it has colour when
one is looking at it. Lastly, it may have extensible qualities
which none of our senses are fitted to reveal to us. (5) Be-
side having extensible qualities, which it may present to us
sensibly, a bit of matter has certain causal or dispositional
properties, active or passive. Among these may be men-
tioned inertial mass, impenetrability, greater or less elas-
ticity and so on. ( 6) The same person can perceive the
same part or different parts of the same bit of matter on
various occasions by means of the same sense or different
senses. (7) Different persons can perceive the same part or
different parts of the same bit of matter, by means of the
same sense or different senses, on the same occasion. (8)
A bit of matter can exist, and change or remain unaltered,
and act upon or be acted upon by other bits of matter, at
times when no one is perceiving it. None of its extensible
qualities or its powers is altered or abolished or reinstated
by its becoming or ceasing to be perceived.
I do not say that all or any of these common sense be-
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 257
liefs are true. But I do say that, unless there be particulars
which answer to all these eight conditions, then there are
no 'bodies' or 'material things' in the plain straightforward
sense of these phrases.
It is worth while to notice that philosophers who have
explicitly or implicitly denied that there are material
things, have done so for one or another of two fundamen-
tally different reasons. One of these is much more radical
than the other. The more radical line is to argue that the
notion of one or more of the characteristics which enter
into the notion of 'material thing' involves a contradiction,
and therefore that nothing could possibly have that charac-
teristic. This is the line taken, e.g., by Leibniz and by Mc-
Taggart. They argue that nothing could possibly be ex-
tended, because to be extended would entail consequences
-e.g., being composed of parts which are themselves com-
posed of parts and so on without end-which are palpably
absurd. The other way is to argue that, although each of
the characteristics involved in the notion of 'material
tlling' may severally belong to something or other, yet,
collectively they could not be combined in anyone par-
ticular. This is in fact the line which Berkeley takes. Ac-
cording to him, there are particulars which are extended,
particulars which are coloured, particulars which have sen-
sible hotness, and so on. But, in the first place, no particu-
lar which had colour could possibly have temperature, none
which had temperature could possibly have colour, and so
on. And, secondly, every such particular is confined in its
existence to some one particular occasion in the mental his-
tory of some one particular person. He calls such particu-
lars 'ideas'. Then again, according to him, there are also
particulars which are persistent, capable of acting and be-
ing acted upon, and which exist independently of being
perceived. But these are all unextended, and it is meaning-
less to ascribe to them colour, temperature, motion-or-rest,
etc., or to suppose that they could be perceived by means
of any conceivable sense. They are in fact minds or spirits;
their activity consists in volition, and their passivity in be-
ing caused to have sensations or images by telepathic or
immanent action.
258 C. D. Broad
1.2. Perception and Sensation. Berkeley unfortunately
uses the one word 'perceive' to cover two quite different,
though closely interconnected, kinds of experience. One is
the non-inferential cognition which we take ourselves to
have of material things and of certain physical events by
means of sensation. This is the kind of experience which
one would naturally express by saying: 'I see a cow over
there', 'I am touching a bit of ice', 'I see a flash of light-
ning', 'I hear a bell toIling', and so on. The other kind of
experience is having a sensation or quasi-sensation. When
Berkeley is being careful he no doubt intends to mark this
distinction by the use of the phrases 'perceive' and 'imme-
diately perceive' respectively. When he uses 'perceive' in
the wide sense it includes, besides what he calls 'immedi-
ate perception', a great deal of what he would call 'sugges-
tion'. He takes the latter to consist of images, evoked
through association by an immediate perception. But gen-
erally he uses 'perceive' for what he should describe as
'immediately perceive'. This is a dangerous practice, and it
is well to avoid it altogether. I shall use 'perceive' only in
the usual sense, in which the proper grammatical object
of the verb is the name or a description of some material
thing or physical event, e.g., 'a cow', 'a brown, round, flat
bit of copper', 'a flash of lightning', and so on. I shall use
the technical word 'sense' as equivalent to what Berkeley
in his more careful moments would describe as 'immedi-
ately perceive'.
Even if we confine ourselves to using 'perceive' in the
way just mentioned, there is still a tiresome ambiguity
about it, which we must now notice. 'Perceive', when so
used, is a general name for seeing, hearing, touching, etc.
Now it is customary to use such words as 'see', 'bear',
'touch', etc., only with the implication that the following
two conditions are fulfilled. (i) That the experience is
veridical, at any rate in its main outlines, i.e., that there is
in fact a certain one body or physical event, answering
pretty clearly to the description'which the experient would
naturally give of the object which he claims to be perceiv-
ing at the time. (ii) That the experience is normaU}'
evoked. In the case of visual perception this means that
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 259
it is evoked by light coming to the experient's eyes directly
or indirectly from a region outside his body. In the case of
auditory perception it means that it is evoked by sound-
waves coming to the experient's ears directly or indirectly
from an external source. And similarly mutatis mutandis
for other cases. If we believe that either of these conditions
is unfulfilled, we should not commonly say that a person is
'seeing' or 'hearing' or in general 'perceiving'. Suppose,
e.g., that I knew or believed that a person, who claimed to
be seeing an oasis in the desert or to be hearing a voice,
was dreaming or hallucinated. TIlen it would be contrary
to usage for me to say: 'He is seeing an oasis' or 'He is hear-
ing a voice'. I might say: 'He seems to himself to be seeing
an oasis' or 'He seems to himself to be hearing a voice'. Or,
if I were making my statement in writing, I might put the
words 'see' or 'hear' in inverted commas. Suppose, again,
that I knew or believed that a person's visual or auditory
experience corresponded to a certain distant scene or event
so closely as to exclude all question of chance-coincidence.
And suppose that I knew that the experience could not
possibly have been evoked in him directly or indirectly by
light-waves or sound-waves coming to his body from the
region of that distant scene or event. Then, again, it would
be contrary to ordinary usage for me to say: 'He saw such
and such a scene' or 'He heard such and such a sound'. I
should say: 'He seemed to himself to see it' or 'He seemed
to himself to hear it'; and I should add: 'But really it must
have been a case of telepathy or clairvoyance or clairaudi-
ence'. Here the experience is veridical, but not normally
evoked.
It is evident, then, that we need a word which shall be
purely descriptive and shall not carry with it any implica-
tions either of veridicality or of normal evocation. We
want a word which will cover, e.g., normal waking sense-
perceptions, waking hallucinations (both delusive and ve-
ridical), and dreams. I propose to use the phrase 'ostensi-
ble perception', and the corresponding phrases 'ostensible
seeing', 'ostensible hearing', etc., for its various specific
forms. With this terminology 'to see' is to have an osten-
sible visual perception which is both veridical in its main
260 C. D. Broad
outlines and normally evoked. And similar remarks apply
mutatis mutandis to the words 'to hear', 'to touch', and so
on.
Now, whenever a person is having an ostensible percep-
tion he is ipso facto having a certain sensation or quasi-
sensation. (I introduce the second alternative in order to
cover the case of dreams and of certain kinds of waking
hallucination. In these cases it might well be denied that
the experient is having sensations, if that word is used so
as to imply that the experiences are due to the stimulation
of his external sense-organ. But he is certainly having
colour-experiences, sound-experiences, and so on, which
very clearly resemble in their intrinsic character sensations
which are normally evoked.)
To illustrate these terms let us suppose, e.g., that a per-
son has an experience, whether veridical or delusive, nor-
mally or abnormally evoked, which would correctly be
described as 'ostensibly seeing a cricket-ball'. An essen-
tial part of that experience would consist in having a
colour-sensation or a colour-quasi-sensation of a certain
characteristic kind. The precise character of this could
vary within certain ill-defined limits according to circum-
stances. If it were a normal waking perception, e.g., the
details of the sensation would vary according to the part of
the ball facing the percipient, according to his distance
from it, the state of his eyesight, the lighting, and so on.
But it would certainly be a sensation of a round-looking,
convex-looking, brownish expanse.
But, although a colour-sensation or a colour-quasi-
sensation of this kind is an essential factor in any experi-
ence which could properly be called 'ostensibly seeing a
cricket-ball', it is not the whole of it. By a 'cricket-ball'
we mean something which is solid and spherical; which
has coldness and smoothness and hardness as wen as
brownness; which has parts which are not at the moment
manifesting themselves to the observer's senses; and which
has causal properties, such as mass, impenetrability, hard-
ness, and elasticity. By 'ostensibly seeing a cricket-ball' we
do not mean just having a sensation of a round-looking,
convex-looking, brownish expanse. We mean (i) having
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 261
such a sensation, and (ii) being led by it, without any
explicit process of inference and without even any experi-
ence of associative transition, to take oneself to be facing
an object answering to the description which I have just
given.
It would be logically possible to have such a sensation
without being led by it to take for granted anything of the
kind. It might be suggested that that would be the case
with a young baby, looking at a cricket-ball for the first
time. If so, it would be incorrect to say that the baby was
ostensibly seeing a cricket-ball, and it might well be incor-
rect to make even the vaguer statement that it was osten-
sibly seeing a globular body. But I would not like to com-
mit myself to the statement that a young baby would or
even could (in the causal sense of possibility) have a vis-
ual sensation precisely like that which a grown person
would have in a similar situation. It is possible, and it
seems to me likely, that the character of the visual sensa-
tion itself is subtly modified by the associations which it
comes to evoke. Then, again, it is quite possible, both
logically and causally, for a grown person to have such a
sensation and not be led by it to take himself to be facing
a cricket-ball or even a body of any such kind. He might
know or have reason to believe that he was subject to an
optical delusion or a hypnotic suggestion. But in his case
there would certainly be a strong incipient tendency to
take himself to be facing a cricket-ball, and, unless he
made and kept up a pretty deliberate effort, he would find
himself slipping into that state of mind. Lastly, a grown
person might be dreaming or hallucinated and be at the
time quite unaware of the fact. In that case he would os-
tensibly be seeing a cricket-ball, but his ostensible per-
ception would be wholly delusive.
1.3. Analysis of Sensation. I come now to the analysis
of sensation or quasi-sensation. At any rate in the case of
those visual and tactual sensations which occur when one
ostensibly perceives a body of definite outline and selec-
tively attends to it, the following analysis seems plausible.
It seems plausible in such cases to say that having a scnsa-
tion consists in being immediately aware of a particular,
262 c. D. Broad
which has certain characteristics, e.g., a certain colour
spread out within a certain contour, and which manifests
those characteristics to one in and through the sensation.
Take, e.g., the visual sensation which a person has when
he is ostensibly seeing a cricket-ball. It seems highly plau-
sible to say that having this sensation consists in being im-
mediately aware of a particular which is, and sensibly pre-
sents itself to one as being, round and convex and brown.
On the assumption that this kind of analysis is correct, I
shall give the name 'sensing' to the act or process of being
immediately aware of a particular as having certain quali-
ties, e.g., colour in visual sensation, temperature in tactual
sensation, and so on. I shall call any particular which is
capable of being sensed a 'sensibile'. So the assumption
which we are making, and which is embodied in this ter-
minology, is that to have a visual or tactual sensation is to
be sensing a sensibile which has certain sensibile qualities
and to be sensing it as having some at least of the qualities
which it has.
I can now define the word 'sense-datum'. I shall say
that a sensibile is a 'sense-datum' for a certain person on a
certain occasion, if and only if he is sensing that sensibile
on that occasion.
Before going further I want to make it quite clear that
these phrases are intended to leave all the following ques-
tions quite open. (1) Whether or not one and the same
sensibile can combine qualities which can be sensed only
by different senses, e.g., whether one and the same sensi-
bile could have both sensible colour and sensible tempera-
ture. (It will be noted that, if this question should be an-
swered in the affirmative, then a sensibile which is being
sensed by a certain person on a certain occasion may have
sensible qualities beside those which he then senses it as
having.) ( 2) Whether or not one and the same sensibile
could be sensed by the same person on more than one oc-
casion, either by the same sense or by different senses.
(3) Whether or not one and the same sensibile could be
sensed by two different persons, either on the same or on
different occasions, and either by the same or by different
senses. (4) Whether or not there could be sensibilia which
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 263
are sometimes not sensed by anyone, or again sensibilia
which are never sensed by anyone. (5) Whether the sensi-
bile which a person senses when he ostensibly sees or
touches a certain part of the surface of a body is sometimes
or is never identical with that part of the surface of that
body.
To aU these questions Berkeley would unhesitatingly
give a negative answer. In our terminology he would as-
sert the following proposition:-Any sensibile is necessarily
a sense-datum for some one and only one person on some
one and only one occasion, and it could not conceivably
have any characteristics beside those which that person
senses it as having on that occasion.
Now I strongly suspect that this assertion of Berkeley's
rests upon a certain other proposition, which is more fun-
damental than it. We may approach this in the following
way. I defined a 'sensibile' as a particular which has cer-
tain sensible characteristics, e.g., sensible redness and sen-
sible coldness. Again, I said that having a sensation con-
sists in sensing a sensibile, and that an essential factor in
this is sensing it as having certain qualities, e.g., as round
or as red or as cold, and so on. Now these statements
plainly leave open a further question, which I have not as
yet mentioned, viz., whether or not a sensibile could be
sensed as having a quality which it did not in fact have.
Could it, e.g., be sensed as red when in fact it had no
colour at all? or could it, e.g., be sensed as elliptical in
contour when it was in fact circular? I have kept this ques-
tion separate from the others, because nearly everyone
who has accepted the analysis of visual and tactual sensa-
tions which is embodied in the present terminology has
explicitly or tacitly answered it in the negative.
We are now in a position to state the more fundamen-
tal proposition which I suspect Berkeley to have held. I
think that he would deny the distinction between having
a sensible quality and being sensed as having a sensible
quality. I think he would hold that no meaning whatever
can be attached to beIng sensibly red or being sensibly
round or being sensibly cold except being sensed by some-
one as red or as round or as cold, as the case may be. In
264 c. D. Broad
fact, to be sensibly red just is to look or sensibly appear
red to someone; to be sensibly cold just is to feel cold to
someone; and so on for any sensible quality. It would fol-
low at once from this that to talk of a sensibile which was
not a sense-datum to anyone would be a contradiction in
terms. For to describe something as a 'sensibile' is to im-
ply that it has some sensible characteristic or other, and
to deny that it is a sense-datum to anyone is to deny that
it is sensed by anyone as having any sensible characteristic.
Now, if the only meaning that can be attached to 'having a
sensible characteristic' is being sensed by someone as hav-
ing that characteristic, this assertion and this denial con-
tradict each other. It would also be meaningless to suggest
either (a) that a sense-datum could have any quality
which it is not sensed as having, or (b) that it could be
sensed as having any quality that it does not have.
n should be noted that the proposition, which I have
supposed to be at the back of Berkeley's mind, would not
in itself entail that one and the same sensibile could not
be sensed by different persons, either simultaneously or
successively. AlI that it entails is that a sensibile must al-
ways be a sense-datum to someone or other. Again, it does
not, strictly speaking, exclude the possibility that one and
the same particular might sometimes be sensed and some-
times not sensed. AlI that it entails is that, if that were so,
that particular could not possibly be calIed a 'sensibile' ex-
cept at the times when it is a sense-datum to someone or
other.
Now there is another, and still more radical, proposi-
tion, which would entail all the negative propositions
which Berkeley maintains. It is this. Perhaps the suggested
analysis of having a sensation, e.g., of a round, convex,
brown expanse, is altogether mistaken. Perhaps it does not
consist in sensing a certain particular as round and convex
and brown. That analysis implies that there are two fac-
tors, viz., an act or process of sensing and a particular
which is sensed, and that the latter might conceivably exist
without being the object of the former. But might not a
sensation be a completely unitary occurrence, not analys-
able into act of sensing and object sensed, but just having
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 265
two radically different but inseparable aspects? In respect
of one of these aspects, viz., its being a state or modifica-
tion of the percipient's mind, it is called a 'sensation of
his', and counts as an event in his mental history. In re-
spect of the other aspect it is called a 'sensation of so-
and·so', e.g., of a brown, round, convex expanse. On this
view the fundamental mistake is to suppose that 'of' here
has the same kind of meaning as 'of' in such phrases as
'memory of so-and-so', 'thought of so-and-so', etc. In these
latter phrases it certainly does denote the relation of a
cognitive act or process to a cognised obiect, and the latter
always is in principle existentially independent of the for-
mer. The mistake, it would be said, is to treat a sensation
as a kind of cognition, and to regard the 'of' in the phrase
'sensation of so-and-so' as denoting the relation of a cogni-
tive act or process to a cognised object. We might talk, on
this view, of the 'content' of a sensation, but not of its
'object'. This view was held, e.g., by Prichard.
If this view were accepted, the negative Berkeleian prop-
ositions follow at once. What we have called a 'sensibile'
would simply be a sensation considered in one of its two
inseparable aspects. In its other aspect a sensation is an
occurrence in the mental history of some one and only one
person at some one and only one date. That, I suspect, is
what Berkeley ought to have held and perhaps did hold.
But, if so, his language often tends to disguise his
meaning.
2. Berkeley's Arguments. We can now consider Berke-
ley's own explicit arguments. We may divide them into
three groups, viz., (1) direct arguments for his view, (2)
attacks on certain alternative views, and (3) discussion of
certain possible objections to his view. I shall confine my-
self here to the direct arguments against the existence of
material substance. These may be divided into (i) the
'esse' = 'percipi' argument, and (ii) a pair of supplemen-
tary arguments. We will now consider these three in tum.
2.1. The 'esse' = 'percipi' argument. At the end of Sec-
tion 4 of the Principles of Human Knowledge Berkeley
asks three rhetorical questions, and they constitute his
266 c. D. Broad
main positive argument on this topic. I will now deal with
them in the light of our preliminary clarification.
The questions are these: (1) "What are" houses, moun-
tains, etc., "but the things which we perceive by sense?"
( 2) "What do we perceive beside our own ideas or sensa-
tions?" (3) "Is it not plainly repugnant [i.e., internally in-
consistent] that any of" our ideas or sensations "or any
combination of them, should exist unperceived?" Berkeley
evidently expects us to answer the first two questions with
'nothing', and the third with 'yes'. If we do so, the argu-
ment would then run as follows: 'Houses, mountains, etc.,
are nothing but things which we perceive with our senses.
Things that we perceive with our senses are nothing
but our own ideas or sensations. But it is plainly self-
contradictory to suppose that anyone of our ideas or sen-
sations, or any combination of them, should exist unper-
ceived. Therefore, it is self-contradictory to suppose that
houses, mountains, etc., should exist unperceived'. I will
now take the three rhetorical questions in tum.
(I) If there are such things as 'houses', 'mountains',
etc., they are certainly things which we can and often do
perceive with our senses. But they would be a great deal
more than that. They would be particulars which, even
when we are perceiving them, have many parts and many
qualities which they are not directly manifesting to our
senses. For they would have insides as well as outsides,
backs as well as fronts, temperatures and textures as well
as colours, and so on. Again, each of them would be a
thing which can be perceived by several persons simul-
taneously or successively, and by the same person on many
different occasions, from various points of view and by
means of various kinds of sensations. Lastly, they would be
things which have characteristic powers and dispositions,
which interact with each other, and which unfold their
various histories whether anyone happens to be perceiving
them or not. Berkeley is arguing from the common mean-
ings and usages of ordinary words and sentences. If so, he
ought to take into account their full meanings and impli-
cations, and not just a small selection which specially
favours his case.
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 267
(2) Either the word 'perceive' is being used in the
same sense in the second question as in the first, or in a
different sense. If it is used in a different sense, the argu-
ment collapses through having an ambiguous middle term.
But, if it is used in the same sense, it is simply untrue that
what a person perceives is 'his own ideas and sensations'.
What we ostensibly perceive is houses, mountains, rivers,
etc. To apply the phrase 'one's own' to these, in the sense
in which it is used in the phrase 'one's own sensations', is
quite meaningless. It can be applied to them only in the
quite different and irrelevant sense of legal ownership, as
when one talks of 'my umbrella' or 'your bicycle'. You
and I may perceive St. Paul's Cathedral; it is quite mean-
ingless to say that you perceive your St. Paul's and I per-
ceive mine.
There is one and only one interpretation which I can
put on the second question which would enable me to an-
swer it affirmatively. I should have to transform it as fol-
lows: 'What does a person sense, on any occasion when he
is perceiving a material thing, but a sensibile? Is it not
plain that this cannot be identified with the thing as a
whole, and doubtful whether it can be identified even with
a part of the thing's surface? Is it not plain, in any case,
that it does not manifest to the percipient all the qualities
which he takes to be possessed by the part of the thing
which he is perceiving? And is not the fact that a person
senses such and such a sensibile on a certain occasion, and
that it then manifests to him such and such sensible char-
acteristics, always determined to some extent by his posi-
tion and orientation and by the sense-organs which he is
using at the time?' I think that the answer to these ques-
tions is: 'Yes'. But an affirmative answer to them does not
help Berkeley's argument.
(3) The third question is equivalent to the following:
'Is it not self.contradictory to suppose that there might
be unsensed sensibilia?' In Section 3 of the Principles
Berkeley says that the statement: 'There was a sound' just
.means: A sound was heard'; 'There was an odour' just
means: 'An odour was smelled'; and so on. He sums this
up by saying that 'to exist', as applied to sensible objects,
268 C. D. Broad
just means 'to be perceived'. (For reasons which I have
already given, I shall substitute 'to be sensed' for 'to be
perceived' . )
It is plain, however, from what he says elsewhere that
Berkeley would wish to modify this at least in one or
other of the following two ways. (i) 'There was a sound'
means: 'Either a sound was actually heard by some man
or animal, or one would have been heard if certain condi-
tions, wholly describable in terms of sensations, had been
fulfilled'. (ii) 'There was a sound' means: 'Either a sound
was heard by some man or animal, or, if not, a sound was
in some way present to the mind of God'. I think it is
fairly plain that Berkeley really took the second alterna-
tive. In Section 48 of the Principles he writes' as follows:
"For, though we hold . . . the objects of sense to be noth-
ing . . . but ideas which cannot exist unperceived; yet we
may not then conclude that they have no existence ex-
cept only when perceived by us, since there may be some
other spirit that perceives them, though we do not. Wher-
ever bodies are said to have no existence without the mind,
I would not be understood to mean this or that particular
mind, but all minds whatsoever." Again, in Dialogue II of
the Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous he makes
the following explicit statement: ". . . I conclude, not
that they have no real existence, but that, seeing that they
depend not on my thought and have an existence dis-
tinct from being perceived by me, there must be some
other mind wherein they exist." The fact is that Berkeley
himself was not a phenomenalist, though phenomenalism
is a very natural alternative line of development from his
principles.
Now I think it is fantastic to suggest that any proposi-
tion about God is part of the meaning of such a state-
ment as: 'There was still a hooting sound going on when
the ship's foghorn continued to blow after all the ship's
company had moved away out of earshot in the lifeboats'.
Let us, then, ignore this alternative here, and consider the
other, i.e., the phenomenalist one. According to this, the
only meaning which can be attached to this statement,
although it is in the indicative mood, is the conditional
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 269
proposition that, if a man or other suitably equipped ani-
mal had been within earshot, he would have heard a hoot-
ing sound. What are we to say of this kind of contention?
( 1) I think that many people would find it almost self-
evident about odours and tastes, and highly plausible
about sounds. But I would remark that the antecedent of
the conditional involves the notion of being within ear-
shot or some similar notion, i.e., the notion of an observer
having a body which conditions his sensations and of that
body being in a certain kind of spatial relation to another
body which is supposed to be emitting the sound or the
odour. I think that the plausibility and even the intelli-
gibility of the proposed analysis vanish, if we try to analyse
these features in the antecedent of the conditional in the
way in which we have analysed the original proposition
that there was a hooting sound.
( 2) However that may be, does anyone find this kind
of analysis in the least plausible, if applied to sensibilia of
the kind which a person senses when he ostensibly sees or
touches a body and when there is no ordinary common-
sense reason to think that his ostensible perception is
delusive? So far from it seeming obvious to me, it does
not seem prima facie to be even plausible. When I look
at a cricket-ball, e.g., I automatically take what is being
sensibly presented to me, viz., a certain round convex
brown expanse, to be part of the surface of a certain body.
I unhesitatingly take for granted that the rest of its sur-
face, which is not now being sensibly presented to me, is
now round and convex and brown, in precisely the same
way in which my present immediate object is so. I un-
hesitatingly take for granted that my present immediate
object existed before I began to sense it and that it will
continue to exist after I have ceased to do so. I assume
that it then was and then will be round and convex and
brown in precisely the way in which it now is so. I unhesi-
tatingly take for granted that my present immediate ob-
ject now is smooth and hard and cold, although I am not
now sensing it as such; and that, if I were to touch it, I
should sense it as having these qualities, which it already
has but is not sensibly presenting itself to me as having.
270 c. D. Broad
Arguments may be produced to show that these instinctive
beliefs are false or highly doubtful. But when I am told
that I cannot possibly have them, because all this is mean-
ingless nonsense which I cannot even think, and that I
must instead be believing some conditional proposition
about what I or someone else would sense under certain
unfulfilled conditions, I remain wholly unconvinced.
Why is it that Berkeley'S contention seems so obvious
about odours, so plausible about sounds, and so uncon-
vincing about the colour-expanses which one senses when
one ostensibly sees bodies? We may begin by noting the
following fact. The cases in which it seems obvious are
those in which the percipient has no tendency to regard
the sensibile which he senses as part of the material thing
which he ostensibly perceives. The cases where it seems
unplausible are those in which he naturally takes for
granted that the sensibile which he senses is part of the
Sl.1lface of the material thing which he ostensibly perceives.
Now in the former cases the percipient also has no tend-
ency to believe that the sensibile which he senses has
other qualities or parts or spatia-temporal continuations
besides those which it sensibly presents itself to him as
having. In the later cases, as we have seen, he always takes
such things for granted about the sensibile which he
senses. It is worth noticing that, even in the case of visual
sensations, the Berkeleian contention is by no means un-
plausible for those vague, peripheral, or unusual sense-
data which the percipient does not automatically and un-
critically take to be a part of the surface of some body
which he is looking at more or less directly. Take, e.g., the
case of a visual after-sensation experienced with closed
eyes, or the 'stars' which a person 'sees' when a blow is
struck on his eye. It seems plausible, rather than shocking,
to suggest that each of these exists only as sensed by a
certain one person on a certain one occasion. And in the
case of what are called 'mental images' of the visual kind,
I suppose that everyone would find Berkeley's contention
prima facie obvious, and the doctrine that such a coloured
extended particular could exist except as imaged by a cer-
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 271
tain one person on a certain one occasion extremely
paradoxical.
TIle fact is that Berkeley leads his readers 'up the gar-
den path' at this point by the following two devices. (1)
He discusses explicitly the case of an unheard sound, i.e.,
a sensibile of a kind which no one regards as a part of a
body or of its surface even when it is sensed in connection
with ostensibly perceiving a body, e.g., hearing a bell toll-
ing. ( 2 ) He assimi~ates the sensibile which one senses
when one is ostensibly seeing a body, to a visual mental
image or to the sense-datum of a visual after-sensation.
He takes for granted that it has and can have only the
qualities which it is now sensed as having, viz., a certain
colour and a certain extension and figure; whereas the
instinctive belief of common-sense is that it can and does
have others besides, viz., a certain texture and a certain
temperature, which it is not now sensed as having simply
because the appropriate sense-organ is not in operation.
It is fair to say that he had already argued elaborately
in the New Theory of Vision against the possibility that
any particular prehended by sight should be identical with
any particular prehended by touch. We must therefore
briefly consider the argument at this point. For, if it were
valid, it would justify Berkeley in holding that the visual
sensibilia sensed when one ostensibly perceives a body re-
semble visual mental images and the sense-data of visual
after-sensations in having none but purely visual qualities.
The argument occurs in Section 49 of the New Theory of
Vision. He assumes there as a premiss something which he
claims to prove considerably later on, viz., in Section 121
and those that immediately follow it. The premiss is that
no characteristic which a particular is visually sensed as
having can be identical with any characteristic which a
particular is tactually sensed as having, and conversely.
Thus, e.g., if I say and say truly: 'This looks round' and
'That feels round', the word 'round' must stand in the
one sentence for a determinate under one determinable
and in the other sentence for a determinate under a wholly
different determinable. We need not here discuss whether
272 C. D. Broad
this is true or false, well established or ill established.
Let us grant it for the sake of argument.
Berkeley says that the correct conclusion to draw from
this premiss is that a visually sensed particular and a tac-
tually sensed one could never be the same particular. It
seems to me quite plain that this does not follow from the
premiss. In order to prove the conclusion the premiss
needed is that characteristics which can be visually sensed
are incompatible with those which can be tactually sensed.
He has made no attempt to show this. And the more you
insist that they fall under radically different determina-
bles, the less reason you have to accept this. If the word
'round' in the sentence 'This feels round' and the word
'elliptical' in the sentence 'This looks elliptical' denote
qualities which fall under quite different determinables,
there is no obvious reason why a particular which feels
round and a particular which looks elliptical should not be
one and the same particular. A fortiori there is no obvious
reason why a particular which looks brown and a particular
which feels cold and smooth and hard should not be one
and the same particular.
I have now examined in tum the three steps in Berke-
ley's 'esse'= 'percip;' argument. It is time to draw to-
gether the threads and examine the argument as a whole
in the light of our comments on the parts. What Berkeley
claims to prove is that it is self-contradictory to suppose
that houses, mountains, and other bodies should exist un-
perceived. It is plain that in order to do this it is not
enough to prove that it is self-contradictory to suppose
that sensibilia should exist unsensed. It is necessary to add
to this the premiss that a body is a sensibile, or a set of
interrelated sensibilia, and nothing besides. What emerges
from my comments is that Berkeley is faced with the fol-
lowing dilemma. There certainly are sensations with re-
gard to which it is highly plausible to hold either (a) that
the analysis into act of sensing and sensibile sensed does
not apply to them, or (b) that, if it does, then it is ob-
vious that no such sensibile could exist except as a sense-
datum to a certain one person on a certain one occasion.
Examples are sensations of smell, auditory sensations, and
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 273
visual after-sensations. But in the case of none of these
sensations would it be at all plausible to maintain that the
sensibilia sensed are in any way parts of the bodies osten-
sibly perceived, or of any other bodies. On the other hand,
there are sensibilia, viz., those which a person senses when
he ostensibly sees or touches a body, which are taken by
the percipient to be parts of the surface of the body seen
or touched. But in the case of none of these sensibilia is
it all obvious that the supposition that they might exist
unsensed is intrinsically absurd. It can be made to seem
absurd only by assuming, contrary to what common sense
takes for granted, that they can have no qualities beside
those which the person who senses them at any moment
then senses them as having. This amounts to assuming
that it is absurd to suppose that one and the same sensibile
could be sometimes a purely visual sense-datum, some-
times a purely tactual sense-datum, and sometimes both a
visual and a tactual sense-datum. I have tried to show that
Berkeley's argument in the New Theory of Vision to
show that this is absurd is quite inconclusive. But it would
not help his case even if it were conclusive. For, just in
proportion as we assimilate these sensibilia to visual im-
ages or the sense-data of visual after-sensations, so does it
become increasingly unplausible to identify any body with
anyone of these sensibilia or any collection of them.
I conclude, then, that the argument is a failure. But I
am sure that, like the ontological argument, it is a most
interesting and important failure and far more valuable
philosophically than most successes. Moreover, there are
other arguments, based on certain specific features of os-
tensible sense-perception and on its physical and physio-
logical conditions, which claim to show that the sensibile
which a person senses, when he ostensibly sees or touches
a body, cannot in fact be a part of the surface of that or
any other body, and probably exists only in so far as it is a
sense-datum to that person on that occasion. I find the
cumulative effect of these arguments very convincing, and
the attempted rebuttals very weak, though I admit
that the arguments are neither severally nor COllectively
coercive.
274 c. D. Broad
2.2. Supplementary Arguments. Berkeley uses two sup-
plementary arguments against the existence of material
substance. One occurs in Sections 16 and 17 of the Prin-
ciples of Human Knowledge, and the other in Sections 18,
19, and 20. I will now take these in tum.
(A) The first of these arguments is an attack on the
notion of material substance as a substratum in which ex-
tension and other qualities inhere. Berkeley brings much
the same objection as Locke did when he said that the na-
tion of substance is the notion of 'a something I know not
what' which supports qualities. This line of argument is
logically independent of the 'esse' = 'percipf principle,
and it might consistently be used by a person who rejected
that principle.
Now Locke saw that, if there is anything in this objec-
tion, it applies equally to mental and to material sub-
stance. If there is a difficulty in the notion of a substratum
in which sensible qualities inhere and physical events oc-
cur, surely there will be exactly the same difficulty in the
notion of a substratum in which mental qualities inhere
and mental events occur. Locke's conclusion is simply that
we have a very inadequate notion of substance. But Berke-
ley rejects the possibility of material substance on the
ground of these difficulties, while he is perfectly convinced
that each person's mind is a mental substance. The ques-
tion arises whether this is a consistent position to hold.
Berkeley was well aware that he might be twitted with
inconsistency on this point. In Dialogue III of the Dia-
logues between Hylas and Philonous he makes Hylas argue
as follows: "It seems to me that . . . in consequence of
your own principles it should follow that you are only a
system of floating ideas, without any substance to support
them. . . • As there is no more meaning in 'spiritual sub-
stance' than in 'material substance', the one is to be ex-
ploded as well as the other." To this he makes Philonous
answer as follows: ". . . I know or am conscious of my
own being, and that I myself am not my ideas, but some-
what else, a thinking active principle that perceives,
knows, wills, and operates about ideas. . . . Further I
know what I mean when I affirm that there is a spiritual
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 275
substance or support of ideas, i.e., that a spirit knows and
perceives ideas". Bylas professes himself satisfied with this
answer, but ought we to be?
We must remember that Berkeley means by 'ideas' sen-
sibilia and mental images, and by 'knowing or perceiving
ideas' sensing sensibilia and imaging images. Also he
holds that it is nonsense to talk of a sensibile which is not
a sense-datum to some one particular person on some one
particular occasion and that the same holds mutatis mu-
tandis for images.
We must distinguish two parts in Bylas' contention.
(1) That Berkeley is committed to holding that a per-
son's mind is nothing but a system of interrelated ideas,
i.e., sensed sensibilia and imaged images. ( 2 ) That on
Berkeley's principles there is no more meaning in the
phrase 'spirit.ual substance' than in the phrase 'material
substance'. It is really only the second contention which
directly concerns us at present.
Now the first part of Philonous' answer is addressed only
to the first part of Bylas' contention. Be argues that that
which senses sensibilia and which images mental images,
which exercises volition, and so on, cannot just be a system
of sensed sensibilia and imaged images, however interre-
lated. That may very well be true. It amounts, in fact, to
saying that the notion of a mental substance is the notion
of something which wills, senses, images, and so on, which
has a certain characteristic kind of unity at each moment,
a certain kind of identity throughout time, and so forth.
But the question remains whether to talk of that which
performs these acts and has these properties, as distinct
from the acts which it performs and the properties which
it has, is not to talk of a 'something we know not what'.
I suppose that Philonous must be addressing himself to
this question when he says: "Further I know what I mean
when I affirm that there is a spiritual substance or support
of ideas . . ." I think that Berkeley must mean that each
of us is acquainted with his self as substratum, as well as
with his own mental acts and with the sensibilia which he
senses and the images which he images, and so each of us
knows by acquaintance the relation of the former to the
276 c. D. Broad
latter. He is presumably contrasting this with the fact that
no one has ever pretended to be acquainted with the sub-
stratum of a. material thing, as distinct from the qualities
that it has and the events and processes which go on in it.
So no one can pretend to know by acquaintance the rela-
tion of the former to the latter in that case. If this is Berke-
ley's position, I think it is self-consistent. Whether the
positive part of it is tenable is another question. It would
of course have been denied by Hume, for what that is
worth. But it would no less have been denied by Kant and
by James and by Stout, who were not professional sceptics
and were explicitly reflecting on the question.
(B) Berkeley's second supplementary argument is di-
rected to prove· that, even if per impossibile there were
bodies ~isting independently of being perceived, it would
be impossible for anyone to know of the existence of any
such body directly or to prove it demonstratively or even
to establish it as a probable hypothesis.
I do not think that anyone would claim, with regard to
any body which he was not ostensibly perceiving at the
time, to know directly that it exists. So I think we may
fairly discuss the question under the following two head-
ings. (1) The case of a person who is ostensibly perceiv-
ing a certain body and who claims, with respect to it, tllat
he knows directly or by demonstration or has good reasons
for believing that it exists independently of being per-
ceived. (2) The case of a person who claims, with respect
to a body which he is not at the time ostensibly perceiving,
that he knows by demonstration or has good reasons for
believing that it exists independently of being perceived.
Now I do not think that anyone would make the latter
claim except on one or other of the following two bases:
(i) Testimony from another person that he is perceiving
or has perceived the body in question. (ii) A causal argu-
ment to the existence of the body in question from certain
observed features in some body which he is perceiving or
has perceived or which some other person testifies to per-
ceiving or having perceived. Suppose that no one ever
knows directly or by demonstration or has good reasons for
believing, with regard to any body which he is ostensibly
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 277
perceiving, that it exists independently of being perceived.
Then a fortiori no one would know or have good reasons
for believing this with regard to any body which he is not
ostensibly perceiving. So we may confine our discussion
to Berkeley's attempt to establish the former negative
proposition.
In order to do so profitably it is desirable to begin by
drawing some distinctions which Berkeley does not ex-
plicitly recognize. I shall use the word 'know' in such a
way that what is known is always a fact and not a particu-
lar existent. .pn this understanding we can distinguish
prima facie at least the following kinds of knowing. (1)
Knowing a fact about a presented particular by inspecting
it and noting the characteristics which it presents itself as
having. In this way a person knows, with regard to the
sensibile which is presented to him when he looks at a
penny in ordinary daylight, that it is brown and approxi-
mately circular. And he does not know at the time in this
way that it is cold or that it is hard or that it is smooth.
This may be called 'knowledge by acquaintance'; (2)
Knowing a general fact by reflecting on the nature of cer-
tain terms and intuiting that terms of that nature must be
or cannot be interrelated in a certain manner. In that way,
e.g., a person knows that anything that had shape would
have extension. He does not know in that way that tri-
angles on the same base with their vertices on a line paral-
lel to that base must be equal in area. This may be called
'knowledge by internal evidence'. (3) Knowing a fact by
seeing that it is a logical consequence of another fact or of
a conjunction of several other facts which one knows. This
may be called 'knowledge by demonstrative inference'.
(4) Knowing, by means of an experience which does not
itself consist in knowing a fact and seeing its logical im-
plications, a fact which is other than the fact that that
experience is occurring and is of such and such a kind. A
plausiblc example would be memory-knowledge by means
of a present image that one has had a ccrtain experience
in the past. This may be called 'knowledge by non-logical
mediation' . We can group together knowledge by ac-
quaintance and knowledge by internal evidence under the
K
278 C. D. Broad
head of 'unmediated knowledge'; and we can group to-
gether knowledge by demonstrative inference and knowl-
edge by non-logical mediation under the head of 'medi-
ated knowledge'.
In the case of grounded belief we can draw a prima facie
distinction analogous to that which we have drawn be-
tween the two kinds of mediated knowledge. A person's
justification for believing a proposition with a certain de-
gree of conviction may be that he sees it to be more or
less probable relative to some fact which he knows or to
some other proposition which he strongly believes. This
might be called 'belief grounded on probable inference'.
But there seems prima facie to be another possibility.
Might not a person in some cases be justified in believing
a proposition with a certain degree of conviction, merely
because he was having an experience of a certain kind,
which did not consist in knowing a fact or believing an-
other proposition and seeing that the proposition in ques-
tion is more or less probable relative to this known fact
or believed proposition? This might be called 'belief
grounded on non-logical mediation'. Memory would again
provide a plausible example. It might be said that the
presence in a person's mind of a certain kind of image in
a certain kind of context not only causes but also justifies
a more or less strong conviction that he has had a certain
experience in the past, even though it may not enable
him to know that he has done so.
lt should be noted that there is an ambiguity in the
words 'immediate' or 'direct', as commonly used in con-
nexion with knowledge or belief. What I have called
'knowledge by non-logical mediation' would sometimes be
asserted to be 'immediate' or 'direct', because it is not
mediated by inference; and it would sometimes be denied
to be 'immediate' or 'direct', because it is mediated by
something.
We can now deal fairly briefly with Berkeley's present
contention. (1) On his principles it is quite obvious that
a person who is ostensibly perceiving a body cannot know,
with regard to the sensibile which he is then sensing, that
it could exist independently of being sensed. For anything
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 279
that can be known must be a fact, and Berkeley claims to
have shown that no sensibile could possibly exist except as
a sense-datum for some one person on some one occasion.
(2) Suppose that Berkeley were mistaken on this point.
Suppose that in fact a sensibile which a certain person
senses on a certain occasion can and does exist also when
neither he nor anyone else is sensing it. Even so, it is plain
that merely to sense a certain sensibile on a certain occa-
sion does not give to a person knowledge by acquaintance
that it existed before he began to sense it or that it will
exist after he shall have ceased to sense it. The only
knowledge by acquaintance that it supplies is knowledge
that the sensibile now exists and that it now has at least
those qualities which it is sensed as having.
Still less does merely sensing a certain sensibile on a
certain occasion supply knowledge by acquaintance that it
is part of a more extensive and persistent particular, hav-
ing other parts and other qualities which are not at the
moment being presented to one's senses, and possessing
also various dispositional properties.
( 3) Berkeley argues that one could never infer demon-
stratively, from the mere fact that one is ostensibly per-
ceiving a body answering to such and such a description,
that there now is or ever has been or will be a body an-
swering to that description, or indeed any body at all. His
argument may be put as follows. If such a demonstrative
inference were valid, its conclusion would always have to
be true wllenever its premiss, viz., that one is ostensibly
perceiving a body answering to such and such a descrip-
tion, is true. But it is notorious that there are cases, e.g.,
dreams and waking hallucinations,. where the premiss is
true and the conclusion would be false.
This contention seems to me to be true but trivial. If
the premiss of the supposed demonstrative inference is
assumed to be rigidly confined to the fact that a person is
having such and such an ostensible perception at a certain
moment, Berkeley's objection is valid. But why should it
be so confined? Why should not the minimal premiss in-
clude facts about the antecedents, the sequels, and the
context of the ostensible perception? After all, there are
280 c. D. Broad
certain tests by which we claim to distinguish dreams and
waking hallucinations from normal waking ostensible per-
ceptions, and Berkeley must be assuming the validity of
these tests. He ought therefore to have considered care-
fully whether an ostensible perception which passes aU
these tests could be delusive in principle, even if it might
be more or less so in points of detail.
Nevertheless, I entirely agree with Berkeley's conclu-
sion. I do not see how the existence of any particular body,
or of bodies in general, could possibly be demonstrated
from any premiss, however extended, about the occur-
rence, the characteristics, and the interrelations of osten-
sible perceptions. Plainly some universal premiss would
be needed in addition. Now I cannot imagine what this
could be and I cannot believe that we could plausibly
claim to know it.
Would the case be improved, if we were to substitute
what I have called 'nor.-Iogically mediated knowledge' for
knowledge by demonstrative inference? The allegation
would be as follows. Whenever a person has an ostensible
perception, occurring in a certain kind of sequence of os-
tensible perceptions and in a certain kind of experiential
context, he thereby knows without inference that he is in
the presence of a body, answering more or less closely to
the description which he would naturally give of what he
is ostensibly perceiving. I think that this is less vulnerable
to criticism than the former contention. But it may be
invulnerable only in so far as it remains too vague and
general for the critic to come to grips with. If he were to
insist on our specifying the kind of sequence and the kind
of experiential context, we might have a difficulty in doing
so, and he might be able to point out plausible counter-
instances to every attempt that we might make.
(4) In considering whether one could justify a belief
in the existence of bodies as a probable inference, Berke-
ley assumes that the argument would have to be from
ostensible perceptions as mental events to bodies and
events in bodies as their probable causes. He accepts as
self-evident the principle that every event must have an
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 281
efficient cause. Two of his objections rest on propositions
about causation.
(i) He held it to be self-evident that the only possible
efficient causes are minds and that they can produce ef-
fects only by volition. If that be so, even if there were
bodies they could cause nothing, and therefore no infer-
ence to them by way of the principle of universal causa-
tion could be valid. I do not propose to discuss this argu-
ment here.
(ii) Even if it be admitted that events in bodies could
be efficient causes of events of some kind, viz., in other
bodies, it is generally admitted that the causation of a
mental event, e.g., a sensation, by a bodily event, e.g., the
vibration of a particle in a person's brain, is completely
unintelligible. But any causal argument, from the occur-
rence and interrelations of ostensible perceptions of bod-
ies to the existence of bodies, would presuppose this kind
of causal transaction. Berkeley evidently regards this as a
serious objection. But it is not clear to me that it would
be so, even if we granted the premiss that there is some
special difficulty in the notion of a physico-psychical trans-
action. The objection would no doubt be fatal, if the
alleged difficulty were supposed to show that the notion
of such a transaction is self-contradictory and therefore
that no such transaction is possible. But it seems to me
that the utmost that could be granted is that no law of
physico-psychical causation can have any trace of self-
evidence, while some laws of physico-physical causation
(e.g., the modification of motion by impact) might plau-
sibly be alleged to be self-evident.
Berkeley's remaining argument may be put as follows.
Even if there could be bodies, and even if events in bodies
could cause mental events, still it must be admitted that
we could have had exactly the same ostensible perceptions
as we now have, even though no bodies had existed. Now,
if that had been the case, we should have had precisely
the same grounds for the causal inference from ostensible
perceptions of bodies to the existence of bodies as we now
have. And by hypothesis the inference would have been
282 C. D. Broad
mistaken. So it might be mistaken if we were to make it
now.
This assertion is doubtless true. But it is surely irrele-
vant here. For we are no longer considering the contention
that the existence of bodies could be demonstrated from
the fact that we have such and such ostensible perceptions
of bodies and that they occur in such and such sequences
and experiential contexts. What we are considering now
is the contention that, relative to that fact, the proposition
that there are bodies is highly probable, and therefore that
we are justified in believing it fairly strongly. Whether
that be so in fact, Berkeley's objection that nevertheless
the belief may be mistaken is surely completely irrelevant.
But no doubt there are serious difficulties in the con-
tention. One is the question: Wllence did we get the na-
tion of bodies, if the only particular existents which we
are ever acquainted with are such that no one of them
could conceivably exist except as a sense-datum for a cer-
tain one person on a certain one occasion? Another is this:
Ability to explain known facts can make a hypothesis
probable only if the hypothesis has some finite degree of
probability antecedently to the facts to be explained. But
what is meant by the probability of the existence of bod-
ies antecedently to the fact that we ostensibly perceive
bodies and that our ostensible perceptions occur in certain
sequences and experiential contexts? And, if this notion
be intelligible, what ground is there for assigning a finite
value to this antecedent probability?
Finally we must consider a possibility which Berkeley
did not envisage, viz., the possibility of what I have called
'belief grounded on non-logical mediation'. Might it not
be claimed that whenever a person has an ostensible per-
ception, occurring in a certain kind of sequence of osten-
sible perceptions and in a certain kind of experiential
context, he not only does believe, but is thereby justified
in believing with considerable confidence, that he is in
presence of a body, answering more or less closely to the
description which he would naturally give of what he is
ostensibly perceiving? Obviously this is even less vulner-
able to criticism than the stronger claim to knowledge by
Berkeley's Denial of Material Substance 283
non-logical mediation, which we have already considered.
Moreover, since no question of premisses, and therefore no
question of causal premisses, would arise, it is not open to
objections based upon difficulties in the notion of causa-
tion in geneml or in the notion of mental events being
caused by bodily events. I do not think it can be refuted,
but I do not know how it could be recommended to any-
one who was disinclined to accept it.
BERKELEY'S EXISTENCE IN THE MINDl
A. A. LUCE

We find existence in the mind asserted and existence

outside the mind denied scores of times, probably more
than a hundred times, in the Principles. 2 In the earlier
portion of the work there is scarcely a section without a
reference to the doctrine. TIle term in the mind is clearly
a hinge of Berkeley's system, and it has been persistently
misunderstood, in my opinion, from his day to ours.
Kant took it to mean that 'the objects in space are mere
products of the imagination'.3 Critics to-day are reluctant
to attribute such nonsense to a sensible thinker; but many
of them make much the same mistake as Kant. They put
the charge less bluntly and more broadly; for Kant's words
'products of the imagination', they would substitute 'prod-
ucts of our faculties'; but that change would not affect the
gravamen of the charge, viz., that Berkeley's existence in
the mind is mental existence. .
My task is to show that by existence in the mind Berke-
ley does not mean mental existence, but does mean non-
mental existence, perceived or perceivable by the mind.
If by existence in the mind Berkeley had meant mental
existence, he would have said so, we may be sure. He was
not the man to use four words habitually where two would
From Mind, Vol. L (1941). Reprinted, with minor correc-
tions, by permission of the author and Mind.
1 References to the Three Dialogues (abbrev. Hyl.) give the
page number of Fraser's edition (1901) of the \Vorks. Refer-
ences to the other works give the section number. For the Com-
monplace Book (CPB) I bse Johnston's numbering of the entries.
2111e Three Dialogues is equally insistent on the point from
start to finish.
3 Refutation of Idealism.
Berkeley's Existence in the Mind 285
do. The term mental occurs in Locke. Berkeley uses it in
his Commonplace Book (740, 805, 821), and occasionally
in his published works (e.g., Princ. Intro., 9), but always
in its proper meaning, i.e., 'of or belonging to the mind'.
He nowhere applies it, or, as far as I have observed, any
equivalent term, to objects of sense. 4 No, Berkeley's key
phrase does not mean mental existence.
What it does mean is clearly stated at the first OCCUI-
rence of the term in the Principles, section 2.5 In the
previous section Berkeley has described his first type of
created reality, ideas, and now he turns to his second type,
mind, spirit, soul or my self, and says, 'By which words I
do not denote anyone of my ideas, but a thing entirely
distinct from them, wherein they exist, or, which is the
same thing, whereby they are perceiv'd'. This is official
doctrine, explicit, decisive, and often repeated. To exist in
the mind, for Berkeley, is to be perceived by the mind,
and yet to be entirely distinct from the mind. From this
definition he never deviates. This is his axiom, his New
Principle, the positive aspect of his denial of matter.
There is no matter, he teaches, because 'we eat, and drink,
and are clad with the immediate objects of sense which
cannot exist unperceiv'd or without the mind' (38). Ob-
iects seen, touched, heard, tasted, or smelled, sensible
4 I have carefully verified this statement with regard to the
Principles and the Three Dialogues, which together constitute
the proper field of Berkeleian exegesis. The only doubtful terms,
to my mind, are notions and passions. The former is applied to
things of sense in Prine. 5 and perhaps, 74, the latter in Prine.
89. Both designate the object of knowledge, not the subject. No-
tion is one of the vaguest terms used by Berkeley. Passion is the
equivalent of passive entity, and does not mean emotion. Both
terms may be relics of the early stage of his thought (reflected in
the first part of the Commonplace Book), when mind, for him,
was passive, and not distinguished from its contents. The nearest
approach to mental existence is notional existence, which in Hyl.
426 is opposed to real existence, real existence being repeatedly
in the context predicated by Berkeley of things of sense. On no-
tional, as used by the Objector in Pnnc. 34, see below, p. 290.
Ii Many other sections, notably 7, 14, 23, 24, 33, 38, 41, 82,
86, 87, 90, 94, 124, may be cited in evidence, but I shall here
concentrate upon sections 2, 34. 45-48, and 49, because in them
Berkeley is expressly expounding the meaning of the term.
K*
286 A. A. Luce
qualities or things or ideas, sensations, sensa, or sense-
data, call them what you please or what fashion dictates,
they, one and all, when I perceive them, are in my mind,
only in my mind, and are entirely distinct from my mind;
and that, says Berkeley, is what I mean by existence in
the human mind.
Now mind, in Berkeley, may also mean the divine mind;
and this and other ambiguities, or should I say obscurities,
in the key phrase require to be cleared up before we go
further.
Berkeley's term in the mind is flexible, at times indefi-
nite, but it is not intentionally ambiguous; if it is am-
biguous to us, we must not blame Berkeley. It is an elastic
term, and to a certain extent it takes its colour from its
context, and the reader has to be on the alert about it.
Take first the preposition. The in is the equivalent of in
relation to;6 but the full phrase is too awkward for general
use. In our idiom 'I have it in mind' is a neat expression
for the cognitive relation in general, and Berkeley is cor-
rect linguistically in using 'in the mind' as an abbreviation
for 'in direct cognitive relation to the mind'. The phrase
is not to 'be understood in the gross literal sense'.7 The
preposition implies, not situation in, not forming part of,
but apprehension by.s Thus the British Museum is in my
mind when I am in the British Museum, provided I am
perceiving it or thinking about it. Things are not in my
mind as the brain is in the head or as Monday is in the
week or as the act of synthesis is in conception.
Then analyse the noun. Mind, in the Principles, is a
very flexible term. It may mean the divine mind or the
human mind, or it may be the negation not-matter. When
Berkeley is merely the controversialist, attacking material-
ism, his in the mind means not in matter. Matter, ex
hypothesi, is outside the mind and beyond its range.
Berkeley says there is no such thing; he has looked; the
6 Ct. CPB, 814; Prine. 3; and Hyl., pp. 384, 453.
7 Hyl., p. 470. This passage is perfectly explicit, and deserves
careful study.
8Ibid. 'My meaning is only that the mind comprehends or
perceives them.'
Berkeley's Existence in the Mind 287
things he sees and touches are in his mind and not out-
side. But of course he does not long remain at the stage of
denial; mind soon becomes to him positive and a sub-
stance. It may be only mind in general, at the outset; for
he can go a long way on that road without being specific;
but sooner or later he has to distinguish sharply between
the mind of God and the mind of man. And he does so.
When he is drawing the line between sense and imagina-
tion, or between the perceived and the perceivable, the
contrast between mind infinite and mind finite steps into
the centre of the stage. Idealists to-day may think of mind
as a vague, impersonal ether of spirit; but to Berkeley
mind was minds, the mind of God or the minds of men.9
Having cleared up these ambiguities I return to my
point that existence in the mind is not mental existence.
I shall be met with the argument that Berkeley called
things of sense ideas, which is equivalent to calling them
mental. He does call them ideas of course; in his early
books10 he tried to establish the usage, because idea im-
plies immediacy and 'a necessary relation to the mind'.
It was a young man's experiment in technique, reason-
able enough in its day, defensible by experts, but doomed
to failure at the bar of average opinion. It was like trying
to get the man in the street to-day to call shoes and ships
and sealing wax sense-data. They are sense-data, but the
term is too technical to make good. The Berkeleian idea of
sense is exactly the sense-d.atum; but to apply either term
to things opens the door to misunderstanding and to ridi-
cule. But we must not make the wrong inference from this
mistake in tactics. In calling things ideas Berkeley did not
mean that they are mental; for he meant the opposite.
Mind and idea are sharply distinguished in Berkeley's
philosophy. Mind is active; the idea is passive. He was an
9 Berkeley moved in circles keenly alive to this distinction. His
Provost in T.eD.. Peter Browne, made analogy without identity
the cornerstone of his philosophy. His archbishop, William King,
carried the distinction to the extreme, virtually denying all Ie-
senlblance, and making divine thought and will as metaphorical
as divine hands and feet.
10 Hyl., p. 453. Berkeley never quite abandoned this technique;
even in Siris he once or twice calls things of sense ideas.
288 A. A. Luee
uncompromising dualist; he takes the thing into the mind,
but does not let it become the mind, nor infect the mind,
nor merge with the mind. He takes it in, but keeps it at
arm's length. The thing of sense is so in the mind as to
remain distinct from the mind. This distinctness is for-
mally stated at the first mention of existence in the mind
(Prine. 2), and is repeated with growing emphasis at sev-
eral turning-points of the argument (e.g., sect. 27, 86, 89,
139). Berkeley seems to have become, as he worked, more
and more conscious of the activity of active mind and the
passivity of passive idea. They are 'two kinds entirely dis-
tinct and heterogeneous, and which have nothing in com-
mon but the name' (thing or being, sect. 89); they are
'natures perfectly disagreeing and unlike' (sect. 139). He
taught the saine thing ten years later, 'Duo sunt summa
rerum genera, corpus et anima'.u Within the truth of the
creation Berkeley was a convinced dualist. He believcd
that God made the finite spirit and the sensible world,
creating the one for the other, giving man's mind to know
and the things of sense to be known, but not giving to
either the power to produce or generate the other. The
key phrase must be interpreted by the key doctrines; when
Berkeley says a thing is in the mind, and calls it an idea, he
thereby says that it is not a mental existence.
The root of the trouble is the assumption, natural but
mistaken, that to an immaterialist things must be mental,
because there is nothing else for them to be. If there is no
matter, then all is mind; so argues the average man, be-
cause he starts from the equation, All reality is mind and
matter, and, on subtracting matter, he is left with the
equation, All is mind. Now there is no subtraction sum of
that sort in the Principles; Berkeley nowhere says that all
is mind, and he says things12 quite incompatible with
that wild fancy. The more firmly he asserts the mind and
its rights, the more firmly he asserts the not-mind too.
11 De Motu, 21.
12 E.g., Prine., 35. 'That the things I see with my eyes and
touch with my hands do exist, really exist, I make not the least
question. The only thing whose existence we deny, is that which
philosophers call matter or corporeal substance.'
Berkeley's Existence in the Mind 289
There is nothing outside the range of mind, for him, but
there is much that is not mind. There is, to take a striking
instance, the brain. Berkeley says that the brain 'being a
sensible thing, exists only in the mind'.13 Of course he
does not mean that the brain is the mind, or is mental; he
means that it is immediately perceived or perceivable.
Berkeley so denied the material as to assert the sensible.
Giving up matter he held on to sensible things and the
sensible world. His phrase in the mind was the war-cry,
not of monism, nor mentalism, nor subjectivism, nor sol~
ipsism, but of direct awareness. He maintained a two-term
theory of perception, and was up against thinkers, notably
Locke, who held a three-term theory and put reality out-
side the mind. Knowledge is not knowledge, argued Berke-
ley, if the real be outside the mind, and only a pale copy
thereof within. He insists, quite sensibly, that sensible
reality is in the mind, is not outside the mind, exists only
in the mind, and has neither absolute nor twofold exist-
ence. Existence in the mind is the elimination of the third
term from knowledge, the removal of the cataract from
mental vision, and the assurance that we see what we see,
and not a tertium quid.
A river in brown flood builds its banks, while appearing
to break them down. Berkeley's thought is like that river.
It breaks matter, but builds the sensible. It destroys a~
solute existence, but establishes relative existence. It abol-
ishes twofold existence in order to lay well and truly the
foundation for the simple existence of the thing perceived.
Thus Berkeley restores our native confidence in our senses,
assuring us that what we actually sense is there, is given, is
in our minds when we are minding it, and that when we
are not minding it, it is still there, still offered, still in the
mind of God.
Berkeley had the dramatic talent; he was able to think
and feel with the other man, and he knew just where his
opponent would misunderstand him. He foresaw the three
main misrepresentations of his philosophy, and he deals
with them as, respectively, the first, the fourth, and the
13 Hyl., p. 421 •
290 A. A. Luce
fifth Objections to it.14 In each of these passages he makes
important statements about existence in the mind. We
will consider them in order.
'By the foregoing principles, all that is real and sub-
stantial in nature is banish'd out of the world; and instead
thereof a chimerical scheme of ideas takes place. All things
that exist, exist only in the mind, that is, they are purely
notional.'lll That is the first Objection, Kant's objection,
and the gist of it is that Berkeley gives things of sense only
a mental existence, and thereby obliterates the distinction
between real and imaginary. Berkeley, in reply, refers to
sections 29, 30, and 33 to prove that on his principles, (1)
the things we see, hear, touch, etc., really exist; (2) there
is a reTUm natura; and (3) the distinction between real
and imaginary retains its full force.
In other words, Berkeley requires us so to understand
existence in the mind as to preserve intact the real exist-
ence of the sensible world, the laws of nature, and the
contrast between real and imaginary.
Can it be done? I do not see why not. I, for one, have
no difficulty at all about it. I hold existence in the mind,
in what I take to be Berkeley's sense of that term, and I
believe in the reality of the sensible world, and in laws of
nature, and I can tell the difference between real and
imaginary; but, of course, one has to accept ex animo
Berkeley's contention that the realities of sense are sig-
nificant entities (ideas), produced and sustained by om-
nipresent Deity, and 'that they are not fictions of the
mind perceiving them' (sect. 36).
Tum now to the fourth Objection (sects. 4;-48). It is
vividly summarised in the objector's cavil, 'Upon shutting
my eyes all the furniture in the room is reduc'd to nothing,
and barely upon opening 'em it is again created'.18 The
14 Prine. 34, 41.-8, 49.
111 The words, that is, they are purely notional' are not Berke-
ley's, but the objector's gloss; ct. CPB, 540, which contains this
passage in brief.
18 Some readers have taken these words as representing Berke-
ley's own views; and I grant that these sections are not as care-
fully written as most; but the words are not his views, and the
fact becomes quite plain, if sections 45 and 48 are read contin-
Berkeley's Existence in the Mind 291
objector is urging that on Berkeley's principles things are
every moment annihilated and created anew, that sensible
things, beinll ideas, must have only an intermittent exist-
ence, dawning in and fading out like the Cheshire cat in
Alice in Wonderland, or like the fairy, Tinkabell, in Peter
Pan. After stating the objection in section 45a, giving it
its full force, Berkeley (sect. 4 5b) replies in effect; well,
even if that charge be a true bill, it shall not move me
from my primary intuition, nor make me assent to mean-
ingless propositions. I actually perceive the tree; therefore
it exists; and to claim for it an existence outside all mind
at bottom has no meaning.
At this point Berkeley digresses; in sections 46 and 47
he points out that intermittency is accepted by Lockeans
and Cartesians in respect of the 'secondary qualities', and
that annihilation and continual creation are taught by the
Schoolmen, and are assumed by the materialism of his
day, notably in the infinite divisibility. These are ad h0-
minem arguments only, designed to secure side-whld for
his sails; for he did not accept Locke's 'secondary quali-
ties', nor Malebranche's 'modifications of the soul', nor
the 'matter' of scholastic and mathematician. He makes
his position plain when he returns to his main argument
at the opening of section 48. He says that we are not to
conclude that objects of sense 'have no existence except
only while they are perceiv'd by us, since there may be
some other spirit that perceives them tho' we do not'. He
then expressly denies that annihilation, continual creation
and intermittency follow from his principles. As to
whether they can be held along with his principles, he is
silent; he does not commit himself one way or the other.
But he clearly dissociates himself from those tenets, when
he speaks of some other spirit perceiving the objects of
sense 'tho' we do not'. Without a doubt then Berkeley's
official teaching on existence in the mind is that objects of
uously. The insertion of sections 46, 47 has obscured the main
sequence of thought.
(For a more careful exposition of Sections 45-8, although
without substantial alteration, see the author's The Dialectic of
Immaterialism, Hodder and Stoughton, 1963.)
292 A. A. Luce
sense may go in and out of the small circle of the mind of
man, but do not thereby go in and out of existence; for
they are conserved in the great circle of the mind of God.
TIlerefore the furniture in the room is not reduced to
nothing when I shut my eyes.
Now to the fifth Objection, our third and final passage
(sect. 49), 'If extension and figure exist only in the mind,
it follows that the mind is extended and figured'. This is
a damaging criticism on the traditional view of the Berke-
leian philosophy, but does it no harm on a true view. The
objector raises the searching question, What does exist-
ence in the mind involve for the mind itself? If the divine
mind be in view, Berkeley is charged with Spinozism and
the deification of space; if the human mind be in view, he
is charged with the denial of the distinction between mind
and body. Berkeley's reply takes us right away from tradi-
tional Berkeleianism. He states positively what he means,
and negatively what he does not mean, by existence in the
mind. Extension and figure, he says, 'are in the mind only
as they are perceiv'd by it, that is not by way of mode or
attribute but only by way of idea'. The way of mode or
attribute is Spinoza's way, the way of pantheism and men-
talism, and the way back to materialism. Berkeley rejected
that way; for him there can be no confounding of distinct
natures, no fusion of mind and not-mind, no infecting of
subject by object. He substituted the way of idea,17 ex-
plaining it to mean that things 'are in the mind only as
they are perceiv'd by it'.
Why should not Berkeley be taken at his word? In view
of his plain, reiterated and common-sense statements,
what is the point of making the man into a mystic, and his
chairs and tables into mental entities? 'My meaning is
only that the mind comprehends or perceives them' (Hyl.,
17 The phrase deserves more attention than it has received. It
is quite technical with Berkeley; it occurs again, Prine. 142, 'our
souls are not to be known in the same manner as senseless, inac-
tive objects, or by way of idea', and by implication in Hyl., p.
455, 'in which they exist, not by way of mode or property, but as
a thing perceived in that which perceives it'. See also Hyl., p. 470,
for the same contrast, and Hyl., p. 458, for the impassibility of
the divine mind.
Berkeley's Existence in the Mind 293
p. 470). Why not give the speaker credit for ordinary
sincerity? It is no compliment to try to make him mean
something subtler than he says he means. Berkeley simply
takes his stand on the facts of perception, and bids his
readers understand perception, if they would understand
his existence in the mind. 'The way of idea' is the way of
the object which is not subject, the way of the immediate
object which is the only object, the way of direct aware-
ness, and that is the only way, for Berkeley, in which
things are in the mind, because it is the only way in which
things are perceived. His ideas of sense are sensible ideas,
passive entities in the active mind, not mental, nor par-
taking in the nature of mind, not modes or attributes or
properties of mind; they belong to a different genus. Often
unknown by man, they are always knowable; they can be
perceived and known, as trout can be angled for and
caught. Berkeley nowhere teaches that the human mind is
creative, constitutive or generative; he just teaches the
common-sense doctrine that when a man minds a thing,
that thing is in his mind, and therefore is not in matter.
We have studied Berkeley's direct statements about
existence in the mind, his answers to objections, and the
general tenor of his philosophy, and the results of all three
lines of study agree. Before I sum up and have done, I
must make a brief reference to the 'development' of
Berkeley's thought; for some would blunt the edge of my
argument by asserting that there were two Berkeleys, and
that I have concentrated upon the realist aspect of his
teaching, and have ignored the idealist aspect, "refuted"
by Kant. I reply that the statement that there were in fact
two Berkeleys cannot be substantiated. I believe, after
close study of the question, in the unity of the Berkeleian
philosophy. There were not two Berkeleys, at any rate dur-
ing the period that matters, from 1710 to 1713 inclusive,
the period during which he published his full philosophy.
My first quotation on existence in the mind was from the
opening of the Principles, my last was from the closing
pages of the Three Dialogues, and the two quotations are
in complete agreement. Over that period, about existence
294 A. A. Luee
in the mind there is not a shadow of turning. I am pre-
pared to admit a marked change of view before that pe-
riod began,18 a change which enhances the significance
of his final decision. Berkeley had faced the issue; he had
hesitated and deliberated; he had toyed with subjectivism,
and had learned to distinguish in the mind from of the
mind. When he was making the opening entries in the
Commonplace Book, he did, I think, entertain the view
that existence in the mind is mental existence; but the
later entries tell a different story,19 and before he finished
the Commonplace Book and months before the Principles
went to the press, his monism had given place to dualism,
and the way of mode was replaced by the way of idea.
Let me summarise the conclusions of this article. Berke-
ley's key phrase has three shades of meaning, negative,
psychological, and metaphysical. His in the mind may
mean, (1) not in matter, (2) perceived by the human
mind, or (3) perceived by the divine mind only. No hard
and fast line can be drawn between these meanings; the
reader must go by the context. In many passages the as-
sertion of existence in the mind is, primarily, a denial of
the existence of matter, and the distinction between mind
human and mind divine does not arise; but in some pas-
sages the distinction becomes of cardinal importance. A
sensible object, actually being perceived by you or me, is
actually in the mind of man; but a sensible object, strictly
so called, i.e., one not being actually perceived by you,
me, or other finite mind, exists, Berkeley teaches, in the
mind of God, and in the mind of God alone.
These three shades of meaning correspond to Berkeley's
three philosophical interests. He needed a flexible term
for his varied tasks. First he was the controversialist, deny-
ing matter, 'the founder of a sect called the Immaterial-
18 See my Development within Berkeley's Commonplace
Book, MIND, Vol. XLIX, N.S., No. 193.
19 See especially No. 24, 'Nothing properly but peISons, i.e.,
conscious things do exist, all other things are not so much exist·
ences as manners of ye existence of persons'. With which con·
trast No. 434, 'ImPOSSible anything Besides that which thinks
and is thought on Should exist', also No. 820.
Berkeley's Existence in the Mind 295
ists',20 and he said in the mind meaning not in matter,
as poets say in heaven meaning not on earth. Secondly,
he was the psychologist, author of a new theory of vision;
he believed in immediacy and direct awareness; he be-
lieved that what he saw, he saw, and not another thing or
pale copy; and he expressed that belief by saying that the
thing sensed was in his mind and not elsewhere. Thirdly,
he was the metaphysician seeking ultimate answers to
ultimate questions. He wanted to fathom the distinction
between the perceived and the perceivable, between man's
grasp and man's reach; he wanted to know the cause of
change and the principles of human knowledge. He found
the final solution of his problems in 'the vision of all
things in God', and therefore existence in the mind, in
Berkeley's last analysis, is existence in Him 'in whom we
live and move and have our being'.21
20 Swift to Lord Carteret, 3rd Sept., 1724.
21 It is so stated in Hyl., p. 453.
 THE MIND AND ITS IDEAS: SOME
PROBLEMS IN THE INTERPRETATION
OF BERKELEY
s. A. CRAVE

The problems of interpretation with which I shall be

concerned are set by what Berkeley says (1) about the re-
lation of ideas to the mind, (2) about the mind itself.

The mind and its ideas, Berkeley states, are "entirely

distinct."1 This, I think, is tIle basic text for the unpara-
doxical Berkeley presented by Professor A. A. Luce; it
states, at any rate, a position presupposed by this Berke-
ley's other opinions. He still maintains, of course, that
physical things are "collections of ideas" and that ideas
are "in the mind." But what does "in the mind" mean?
It will mean something consistent with the entire distinc-
tion of ideas from the mind. "My meaning," Berkeley
says, "is only that the mind comprehends or perceives
them. . . ."2 By "in the mind," Luce says, Berkeley means
(with some colouring according to its context) "in direct
From the Australasian Journal of Philosophy, Vol. 42 (1964).
Reprinted by permission of the author and the Australasian Jour.
nal of Philosophy. The paper has been revised for this volume.
1 The Principles of Human Knowledge, § 2. Cf. § 89 ("en.
tirely distinct and heterogeneous"). All quotations from Berkeley
are taken from the edition of his Works by A. A. Luce and T. E.
Jessop (Nelson, 1948-57). Section references only are given for
the Principles.
2 Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, III (Works,
vol. 2, p. 250). Cf. Principles, § 2.
The Mind and Its Ideas 297
cognitive relation to the mind."3 There is nothing in this
relationship which anchors the being of ideas to their be-
ing perceived by anyone in particular rather than by some-
one else. The things they constitute are therefore freed
from dependence on any of us, being denied merely an
existence "exterior" to all minds. Different perceivers can
perceive the same things, which, in our absence, are sus-
tained in existence as objects of God's never-failing
"perception."
Berkeley has supplied all the materials for this unpara-
doxical Berkeley, whose doctrine is indeed so little extraor-
dinary that, apart from making all agency volitional, it
differs only in queer expression from the assertions of
ordinary theism. The physical world has no existence in-
dependently of God. But this is equally true of finite
minds. The dependence of every physical thing on being
perceived subsides, when no perceiver is indispensable
except God, into the dependence of everything on God.
Shortly after declaring the mind and its ideas to be
entirely distinct, Berkeley asks of "the things we see and
feel": "what are they but so many sensations, notions,
ideas or impressions on the sense; and is it possible to
separate, even in thought, any of these from perception?"
And he answers: "For my part I might as easily divide a
thing from it self."4 The identity of an idea with the per-
ception of it welds ideas to individual perceivers, with the
following consequences. 5 The "same idea which is in my
mind, cannot be in yOllrs"-as Berkeley's Hylas says;6 since
things are collections of ideas, you and I therefore never
perceive the self-same thing. The things each of us per-
ceives have an intermittent existence with the intermit-
3 "Berkeley's Existence in the Mind," reprinted in this volume
(pp. 284-95 above), p. 286.
4 Principles, § 5. Cf. "wherein •.. does the perception of
white differ from white?" (Philosophical Commentaries, No.
585, Works, vol. 1, p. 73).
I> As we shall see later on, there are devices which will enable
a philosopher to hold the principle from which these conse·
quences are derived and to emancipate himself verbally from
them.
6 Three Dialogues, III (Works, vol. 2, p. 247).
298 S. A. Grave
tency of our perception and no existence before our per-
ception of them or after this has ceased. The possibility
of a physical world to which God's "perception" is neces-
sary and all other perception indifferent, is quite ruled out.
We have, then, as regards the perceptual access of dif-
ferent individuals to the same object, and as regards the
conditions under which physical things exist, two sets of
opinions, both of which might very plausibly be ascribed
to Berkeley on the basis of what he asserts or implies. We
shall be asking presently whether Berkeley inconsistently
held both sets of opinions; if not, which of them he really
held, and how the illusory presence of the other is to be
explained.
Corresponding to these two sets of opinions are the two
principles which I am calling, respectively, the "distinc-
tion" and "identity" principles. The "distinction-principle"
would permit the unparadoxical opinions; the "identity-
principle," itself paradoxical, would require the paradoxi-
cal opinions. Nothing would be more valuable in Berkele-
ian commentary than a reconciliation of these principles,
an interpretation of Berkeley'S words about the entire
distinction of minds and ideas, which would show that he
had a meaning for them consistent with what he says about
the identity of an idea and its perception. I regret having
no suggestions to offer. TIle positions seem to me quite
irreconcilable, and I think Berkeley was driven into them
by two conflicting desires: one, to oblige men to see that
if there were no minds there would be nothing at all; the
other, to meet the demands of common sense.
"Mem: To be eternally banishing Metaphisics &c & re-
calling Men to Common Sense," Berkeley wrote in his
Note Books. 7 He will not allow, of course, that his own
metaphysical enterprise runs into difficult!es with common
sense; he thinks he can always secure the non-resistance
of common sense when he cannot have its aid. But good
relations with common sense require that the objects of
sight, touch, hearing, etc. be kept distinct from the mind.
An entry in the Note Books reads fairly plainly as giving
7 Philosophical Commentaries, No. 751 (Works, vol. 1, p.
9 1 ).
The Mind and Its Ideas 299
the necessary assurance: "I will grant you that extension,
Colour etc. may be said to be without the Mind in a dou-
ble respect i.e. as independent of our Will & as distinct
from the Mind."8
I have suggested that a concern for common sense de-
manded from Berkeley the distinction-principle. 9 His
metaphysical enterprise could not do without the identity-
principle. Why do physical things have to be perceived in
order to exist? The distinction-principle, which would
counter any answer, has dropped out of sight when the
question is raised. Berkeley's sustained effort to prove that
physical things have no being unperceived, is to be found
in arguments designed to reduce physical things to sensible
things, sensible things to arrangements of sensible quali-
ties, sensible qualities to sensations or ideas, in which
what one is aware of can no more be separated from
one's awareness of it than a thing can be detached from
itself.
Let us now remind ourselves of the consequences of the
identity-principle. It requires each of us as different per-
ceivers to perceive different things. It prohibits the things
that each of us perceives from existing before our percep-
tion of them and imposes on them an intermittent exist-
ence with the intermittency of our perception. It rules
out the possibility of a physical world sustained by God
alone. Some sense of Berkeley's commitment to these
consequences rarely escapes his readers, but though he
occasionally gives them oblique expression, he does not
avow them; on the contrary, he appears repeatedly, in ex-
plicit words or by implication, to represent them as mis-
understandings of his position; the opinions that he
appears to declare are the unparadoxical ones that the
8 Philosophical Commentaries, No. 882 (p. 104).
9 The principle crystallizes also theextreme dualism of Berke-
ley's contrast between the properties of a physical thing and
those belonging to a mind: minds and physical things are "en-
tirely distinct and heterogeneous." Common sense, one can safely
say, would not endorse a contrast which gave minds a monopoly
of "power or agency," nor would it go along with what is pre-
sumably Berkeley's opinion that ideas of the imagination are as
distinct from the mind as things that are seen and handled.
300 s. A. Grave
distinction-principle would sanction. Thus there appear to
be two Berkeleys in Berkeley, one of them-discernible
largely by inference and interpretation-conforming to the
prescriptions of the identity-principle, the other-very vis-
ible-availing himself of the permissions of the distinction-
principle. The first principle, it might be suggested, would
operate in the construction of Berkeley's theory, the sec-
ond in its defence against commonsense objections.
I shall try to show that these appearances are altogether
deceptive: that Berkeley never repudiated any of the con-
sequences of the identity-principle; that the distinction-
principle is in complete abeyance when the question is
asked whether the perception of different individuals can
have a common object, and when issues are raised as to
the conditions under which physical things exist; that the
illusion of two conflicting sets of opinions is generated by
the expression of paradoxical opinions in unparadoxical
language.
Berkeley argues in the Third Dialogue10 that he main-
tains nothing that would prevent us from saying that dif-
ferent persons are perceiving the same thing, whenever
this is what we would ordinarily say: the word "same" is
applied "where no distinction or variety is perceived,"
and he is not altering anyone's "perceptions."
Let us suppose several men together, all endued with
the same faculties, and consequently affected in like
sort by their senses, and who had yet never known
the use of language; they would without question
agree in their perceptions. Though perhaps, when
they came to the use of speech, some regarding the
uniformness of what was perceived, might call it the
same thing: others especially regarding the diversity
of persons who perceived, might choose the denomi-
nation of different things. But who sees not that all
the dispute is about a word? to wit, whether what is
perceived by different persons, may yet have the term
same applied to it?
These imaginary men suddenly endowed with speech
are presented as speaking like ordinary men; the point of
10 Works, vol. 2, pp. 247-48.
The Mind and Its Ideas 301
the conjectural experiment is that what they say might
naturally be said by anybody in their situation. The first
group say: "We all perceive the same thing." (That they
are really no ordinary men is indicated by the fact that, as
Berkeley has it, this is only what they might say.) The
second group are astonishingly disposed to affirm that dif-
ferent things are perceived-not because of any feature of
what is perceived, for they are all "affected in like sort by
their senses," but because there are several perceivers. This
consideration, together with Berkeley's comment that
"same" or "different" here is a matter of words in the
choice of which one can please oneself, shows how what
the first group say is to be construed: different persons
can perceive the same thing in the sense in which they
can have the same headache (or the same idea, in the
ordinary sense of "idea"). Neither group is composed of
ordinary men: the second consists of Berkeleians voicing
paradox, the first of Berkeleians concealing it.ll
Berkeley concludes the discussion of his problem with a
casual gesture towards divine "archetypes," not themselves
perceived by us but corresponding to the objects of our
perception. He points out that the objection that "no two
see the same thing" bears no more hardly on him than on
the philosophers who hold the kind of theory Locke held.
They acknowledge that we immediately perceive only our
own ideas. "But they suppose," he has Hylas say, "an ex-
ternal archetype, to which referring their several ideas,
they may truly be said to perceive the same thing." Hylas
is assured that the "principles" he is being invited to ac-
cept also allow the supposition that our ideas have external
archetypes. External to our minds, located in the divine
11 It is perhaps worth mentioning that Berkeley could have
avoided this paradoxical account of the sense in which different
perceivers can perceive the same thing by attempting a more
complicatedly paradoxical reconstruction of the notion of a thing.
He could have set about representing a thing as a collection of
systematically related ideas not in X's mind alone, or in Y's, but
in the minds of any number of perceivers. X's ideas would indeed
never be objects to Y but the things they partially constitute, the
things which Y's ideas also partially constitute, would be objects
to both.
302 S. A. Grave
mind, they serve "all the ends of identity" as effectively
as if they had absolute externality. A poor recommenda-
tion, as Hylas must have known unless he had quite for-
gotten the close of the First Dialogue.
Samuel Johnson, Berkeley's American correspondent,
wrote to him raising difficulties about a number of mat-
ters and wanting to be sure that he always had Berkeley's
meaning. On the basis of delibemte remarks which we
shall be considering presently, he had understood Berkeley
to be assigning a doubt-aspect existence to things, giving
them an archetypal being as ideas in the divine mind, and
an ectypal being in finite minds as ideas "copying" or
"imaging" or "resembling" in some way these exemplars.
"When therefore," Johnson wrote, "several people are said
to see the same tree or star, etc. . . • it is (if I understand
you) unum et idem in archetypo, tho' multiplex et
diversum in ectypo, for it is as evident that your idea is
Dot mine nor mine yours when we say we both look on the
same tree, as that you are not I, nor I yoU."12 Berkeley's
reply to Johnson is silent on this point.
How are we to understand Berkeley's assumnces that
our perception does not affect the existence of things?
We have to go on hints and obscure statements, but there
is enough to let it be seen that Berkeley is not repudiating
any of the consequences of the identity-principle, that he
is speaking with the vulgar, however reluctantly he may
be only speaking with them. Several ways of thinking are
open to the learned in this matter, as they are when dif-
ferent perceivers are said to perceive the same thing. One
of them, which reappears fugitively but without disguise
in the Principles, is indicated in the Note Books, with
Berkeley's reminder to himself of the need for undisturb-
ing words:
Mem: to allow existence to colours in the dark, per-
sons not thinking &c but not an absolute actual exist-
ence. 'Tis prudent to correct mens mistakes without
altering their language. This makes truth glide into
their souls insensibly.
12 Second letter to Berkeley (Berkeley'S Works, vol. 2., p.
2.86).
The Mind and Its Ideas 303
Colours in y" dark do exist really i.e. were there light
or as soon as light comes we shall see them provided
we open our eyes. & that whether we will or no,13
TIlere is another suggestion in the Note Books. It is
directly applicable to Berkeley's insistence that things have
an existence "exterior" to our minds in the mind of Cod:
"+ Bodies etc do exist even wn not perceiv'd they being
powers in the active Being."14 One has to avoid propping
up an interpretation of Berkeley wiili anyiliing doubtful
from his Note Books, anyiliing that he could plausibly be
regarded as having repudiated during their composition.
Entries inconsistent with later entries come into iliis class,
along with those bearing the + sign which Berkeley might
have intended as a cancelling mark,15 Most of tlIe entries
reducing, or appearing to reduce, unperceived objects to
powers carry the + sign, but a self-admonition towards the
end of the Note Books removes any disqualification on
iliis score: "Not to mention tlIe Combinations of Powers
but to say the things the effects iliemselves to really exist
even wn not actually perceiv'd but stilI with relation to
perception."16 The most natural construction to be put on
this remark would seem to be that Berkeley has decided
against revealing an opinion which he has not rejected. 17
We are to say that tlIe things we perceive exist inde-
pendently of our perception of iliem. The suggestions just
mentioned provide possibilities of meaning for our words
when we are speaking not only with strict propriety but
13 Philosophical Commentaries, Nos. 185, 185a (Works, vol.
1, p. 25). Cf. Principles, § 3 (" ... I should say it existed, mean-
ing thereby that if I was in my study I might perceive it ...");
§ 58.
14 Philosophical Commentaries, No. 52 (Works, vol. 1, p.
13). Cf. Nos. 41, 282, 293, 293a (pp. 11, 35, ~6).
15 See Luce's introduction to his editio dlplomatica of the
Philosophical Commentaries (Nelson, 1944), pp. xxv-xxvi.
16 Philosophical Commentaries, No. 802 (Works, vol. 1, p.
96).
17 In Three Dialogues, III (Works, vol. 2, pp. 239-40) it is
argued that there must be both powers and ideas in the being
which "imparts" ideas to us. As always, the relation between the
ideas pre-existing in God and the ideas imparted is left wholly
obscure.
304 s. A. Grave
also according to the truth of things. Berkeley suggests yet
a further possibility: the things we perceive exist inde-
pendently of us in their divine archetypes. He cannot, of
course, allow us to perceive the divine archetypes them-
selves. To suppose that anything we perceive is identical
with anything in God is to corporealize deity. And so he
says, repudiating Malebranche's "notion" of our "seeing all
things in God": "I do not understand how our ideas, which
are things altogether passive and inert, can be the essence,
or any part (or like any part) of the essence or substance
of God, who is an impassive, indivisible, purely active
being."ls Berkeley goes on to state what he declares to be
his own position:
Take here in brief my meaning. It is evident that the
things I perceive are my own ideas, and that no idea
can exist unless it be in a mind. Nor is it less plain
that these ideas or things by me perceived, either
themselves or their archetypes, exist independently
of my mind, since I know myself not to be their au-
thor, it being out of my power to determine at pleas-
ure, what particular ideas I shall be affected with
upon opening my eyes or ears. They must therefore
exist in some other mind, whose will it is they should
be exhibited to me.
It is an odd statement. The things one perceives are
one's own ideas, Berkeley says. We draw the inferences:
therefore no one else's (in virtue of the identity-principle,
necessarily no one else's), therefore with no existence in-
dependently of their perceiver's mind. These things,
Berkeley says, or their archetypes (as though it didn't mat-
ter which) exist independently of their perceiver in some
other mind. We do not take the alternatives seriously: it
is of course the archetypes which exist in another mind,
and are "exhibited" when things are perceived. Whatever
this word might mean, it cannot, consistently with Berke-
ley's criticism of Malebranche, mean "exhibited."
We perceive objects of sense; the divine archetypes can-
IS Three Dialogues, II (Works, vol. 2, pp. 213-14). Cf.
Principles, § 148.
The Mind and Its Ideas 305
not become objects to our senses. What we perceive was
brought into existence: the divine archetypes are eternal
and uncreated. Arguing in the Third Dialogue for the
compatibility of his opinions with the scriptural account
of creation,19 Berkeley sets up a "two-fold state of things,
the one ectypal or natural . . . created in time," "the
other archetypal and eterna1." This, he implies, will give
everybody all he can intelligibly want. We are bound in
theological orthodoxy to assert that "all objects are eter~
nally known by God." Berkeley asserts it, with the remark
that to say that they have "an eternal existence" in the
mind of God, is to state the same truth. According to the
doctrine of creation, the things that make up the physical
world have a beginning. And according to Berkeley also,
they have a beginning-relatively to finite perceivers, for
"nothing is new, or begins to be, in respect of the mind of
God."20 The creative decree, by which the physical world
was brought into existence, made "perceptible" to crea-
tures what was previously hidden in deity.
Berkeley has Hylas put the objection that he is allow-
ing things which in the Mosaic history of creation precede
man, "no actuality of absolute existence" but only "hypo-
thetical being," before there were men to perceive them.
There is no inconsistency between his opinions and the
Mosaic history, Berkeley replies: these things might have
existed before men in the minds of "other created in-
telligences."
I say farther, in case we. conceive the Creation, as we
should at this time a parcel of plants or vegetables of
all sorts, produced by an invisible power, in a desert
where no body was present: that this way of explain-
ing or conceiving it, is consistent with my principles,
since they deprive you of nothing, either sensible or
imaginable: that it exactly suits with the common,
19 Works, vol. 2, pp. 250-56. Cf. Letter to Percival, Works,
vol. 8, pp. 37-38.
20 The theological doctrine which Berkeley puts into these
ambiguous words maintains that God's knowledge of His crea-
tures does not begin with the (absolute) beginning of their
existence.
306 s. A. Grave
natural, undebauched notions of mankind . . . I say
moreover, that in this naked conception of things,
divested of words, there will not be found any notion
of what you call the actuality of absolute existence.
Berkeley's contention here seems to be this: for men of
plain, uncorrupted common sense, a thing exists if it
could be perceived by anyone suitably circumstanced; they
have no use for, and find no meaning in, talk about "ac-
tuality of absolute existence."
To sum up. Berkeley did not hold two sets of conflicting
opinions, governed by the identity and distinction prin-
ciples respectively; he held the opinions prescribed by the
identity-principle. He would like to have been, and was
willing to be thought, a theistic realist; he was a theistic
phenomenalist. These are the metaphysical facts as Berke-
ley sees them: without God nothing at all would exist;
without creatures capable of perception nothing physical
would exist, for physical things are constituted by ideas
of sense which God "excites" in the mind or "imprints"
upon it; without X nothing that X perceives would exist,
for the things he perceives are constituted by his ideas.
But there are correspondences between X's ideas and Y's,
and between their ideas and the divine archetypal ideas.
The metaphysical facts have no implications for our actual
or possible experience. Accordingly, Berkeley thought, ac-
ceptance of his opinions called for no paradoxical lan-
guage: we are to continue to say in the ordinarily appro-
priate circumstances that different perceivers perceive the
same thing, and to speak in a manner that implies that
things are unaffected by our perception of them.

II

I now tum to problems of interpretation that arise in

connection with some features of Berkeley's conception of
the mind.
Besides our ideas, there is "something which knows or
perceives them, and exercises divers operations, as will-
ing, imagining, remembering about them. This perceiving,
The Mind and Its Ideas 307
active being is what I call mind, spirit, soul or my self."21
"A spirit is one simple, undivided, active being: as it per-
ceives ideas, it is called the understanding, and as it pro-
duces or otherwise operates about them, it is called the
Will."22 We shall be particularly concerned with the elu-
cidation of these statements which represent the mind as
a substance, as something, that is, to which its actions and
passions belong, which is single, simple, and enduring,
while they are various and transitory. The substantival
mind (the soul, the self) is not, for Berkeley, an occult
entity whose existence is merely a suppositional necessity.
It is not an unknowable substratum of experience but
something of which one is, or can become, "conscious."
The word "substance" does not appear in either of the
passages before us. If Berkeley rather tended to avoid
speaking of the mind as a substance-except, curiously, in
relation to ideas which he did not think of as modifica-
tions of a substance-it was perhaps because the word with
its Lockean associations so strongly suggested an unknow-
able substratum.
Berkeley asserts that the qualities which constitute phys-
ical things, deprived of the impossible "support" of ma-
terial substance, have instead the "support" of immaterial
substance, that the mind is their "subject" or "substra-
tum."23 All the familiar metaphysical words, and all their
familiar implications are cancelled Or radically changed.
"It is therefore evident there can be no substratum of
those qualities but spirit, in which they exist . . ." The
distinction-principle, usually inert when the dependence
of ideas upon the mind is in question, now controls Berke-
ley's meaning and he completes his sentence with the
words "not by way of mode or property, but as a thing
perceived in that which perceives it."24 Not by way of
mode or property, because, as he explains, if such were the
manner of their presence, extension, colour, etc., would
21 Principles, § 2. 22 Principles, § 27.
23 Principles, §§ 89, 91; Three Dialogues, III (Works, vol. 2,
pp. 233, 237)·
24 Three Dialogues, III (Works, vol. 2, p. 237)'
308 S. A. Grave
be predicable of the mind;25 the mind could be red and
round.
Now if we look for the reasons Berkeley gives for hold-
ing the mind to be a substance, I think that, apart from
one short argument and the vague and perfunctory ex-
periential claim that he is "conscious" of his being, that
he knows it by "a reflex act," we shall not find anything
other than fragmentary expression of the need for a "sup-
port" or "subject" of ideas. And we have just seen that,
for Berkeley, the mind does not stand to its ideas as a
substance to its modes and qualities; that to say that the
mind supports its ideas or is their subject is merely to
say that ideas, in order to exist, must be perceived. It
seems so far an open question whether ideas must be per-
ceived by what has the monadic unity of a substance, or
whether it is sufficient that they occur as items in a "con-
geries of perceptions." We might profitably at this point
consider Berkeley's short argument.
Your denial of material substance, Hylas says to Philo-
nous, should commit you, in consistency, to the opinion
that you yourself are "only a system of floating ideas,
without any substance to support them". The answer he
gets is this: material substance cannot be perceived, is not
even conceivable. But "I know or am conscious of my own
being . . . I know that I, one and the same self, perceive
both colours and sounds: that a colour cannot perceive a
sound, nor a sound a colour: that I am therefore one indi-
vidual principle, distinct from colour and sound; and, for
the same reason, from all other sensible things and inert
ideas."26
Though Berkeley speaks metaphorically27 when he as-
serts that ideas and the things they constitute have their
"support," "subject" "substratum" in the mind, he is
clearly not dealing in metaphor in this argument for the
25 Principles, § 49.
26 Three Dialogues,III (\Vorks, vol. 2, pp. 233-34).
27 Cf. C. M. Turbayne, "Berkeley's Two OJncepts of Mind,"
Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, September 1959 and
June 1962. Turbayne regards the substantialist language in Berke-
ley's account of the mind as metaphorical throughout.
The Mind and Its Ideas 309
mind or self as a substance, as something unifying its
experience itself an uncompounded unity, not a "system"
but "one individual principle." And the literal truth of a
substantialist account of the mind seems to be presup-
posed in his argument for the immortality of the soul:
"indivisible, incorporeal . . . an active, simple, uncom-
pounded substance," the soul is invulnerable to the decay
and dissolution which affects bodies and is therefore im-
mortal by nature. 28
Once again, however, we have to consider the possi-
bility of a divided, or of. a disguised, Berkeley. The func-
tions of the mind as substance are certainly more abridged
for Berkeley than is often supposed: he does not regard
the mind's ideas as its "accidents." But the actions and
passions of the mind must belong to it as accidents belong
to their substance, if the word "substance" ever retains its
standard meaning as a metaphysical term when he applies
it to the mind. A characterization of the mind which is to
be found in both the Princi(Jles, and the Three Dialogues,
some entries in the Note Books, and an evasiveness in the
correspondence with Johnson suggest that he might be
merely retaining the word while holding a conception
of the mind which would properly be called anti-
substantialist.
". . . all the unthinking objects of the mind agree, in
that they are entirely passive, and their existence consists
only in being perceived: whereas a soul or spirit is an ac-
tive being, whose existence consists not in being perceived,
but in perceiving ideas and thinking."29 How are we
meant to understand the parallel asserted here between
the relation of an object to its being perceived and the
relation of a subject to its perceiving? VVhen esse est
perci(Ji is construed according to the identity-principle,
there is not both the object and its being perceived-these
are one and the same. Are we to construe esse est perci(Jere
28 Principles, § 1.p.
29 Principles, § 139. Cf. §
71 (". • • the question is no longer
concerning the existence of a thing distinct from spirit and idea,
from perceiving and being perceived."); § 81; Three Dialogues,
II (Works, vol. 2, p. 223).
L
 31 0 S. A. Grave
similarly; or are we to apply an equivalent of the
distinction-principle and take Berkeley to mean not that
"perceiving ideas and thinking" constitute the being of
their subject, but that their subject has no inert being,
that it is always perceiving and thinking?
If we tum to the Note Books for illumination, we find
Berkeley in a late entry toppling the substantival pronoun
into the verb: "Substance of a Spirit is that it acts, causes,
wills, operates, or if you please (to avoid the quibble yt
may be made on ye word it) to act, cause, will, oper-
ate • . ."30 On the other hand, the set of "Humian" en-
tries (" ..• Mind is a congeries of Perceptions •••")81
is marked with the + sign. And there are several late en-
tries which more or less clearly assert the mind to have a
being not constituted by its willing and perceiving. This
is the most explicit of them: "I must not Mention the
Understanding as a faculty or part of the Mind, I must
include Understanding & Will etc in the word Spirit by
weh I mean all that 'is active. I must not say that the Un-
derstanding differs not from the particular Ideas, or the
Will from particular Volitions."82 Two entries occurring
well on in the Note Books present a specific problem of
interpretation:
Certainly the mind always & constantly thinks & we
know this too In Sleep & trances the mind exists not
there is no time no succession of Ideas.
To say the mind exists without thinking is a Contra-
diction, nonsense, nothing.ss
Is it a contradiction to suppose that the mind exists with-
out "thinking" because the mind is its thinking, or because
to exist it must persist through time, and there is no time
without the succession of ideaS in thinking? When Berke-
ley asserts in PrincifJles, § 98, "that the soul always
thinks," the reason given is one which connects the "dura-
80 Philosophical Commentaries, No. 829 (Warks, vol. 1, p.
99)·
I1Nos. 579-81 (p.72).
82No. 848 (p. 101). Cf. Nos. 849 (p. 101), 871 (po 103).
BSNos. 651, 652 (pp. 79-BO).
The Mind and Its Ideas 311
tion" of finite minds with this succession, and we are not
helped towards an understanding of esse est percipere
when Berkeley adds that anyone attempting to "abstract
the existence of a spirit from its cogitation" will find it a
difficult task.
If "esse be only percipere," Samuel Johnson wrote to
Berkeley, he could not understand how Berkeley framed
the argument for the immortality of the soul. And
wouldn't the soul have more being at one time and less at
another, corresponding to variations in the intensity of its
"thinking"? And "if esse be only percipere, upon what is
our consciousness founded? I perceived yesterday, and I
perceive now, but last night between my yesterday's and
today's perception there has been an intermission when I
perceived nothing. It seems to me there must be some
principle common to these perceptions, whose esse don't
depend upon them, but in which they are, as it were, con-
nected, and on which they depend, whereby I am and
continue conscious of them."34 Since "any degree of per-
ception" is "sufficient to Existence," Berkeley replied, it
does not follow that we have more existence at one time
than at another; a thousand yards of snow is not whiter
than a yard. He contrasted Locke who "holds an abstract
idea of existence; exclusive of perceiving and being per-
ceived" with Descartes who "proceeds upon other prin-
ciples."35 He did not mention the argument for the im-
mortality of the soul. He directed Johnson to examine
carefully what he had said in various places about abstrac-
tion.
What he had said about abstraction does nothing tn
determine whether or not its "absurdity" is incurred in
supposing the soul to be other than its perceptions and
volitions, though never without some one or other of
these. To try to separate the being of sensible things from
34 Second letter to Berkeley, Berkeley's Works, vol. 2, p. 290.
In his earlier letter (ibid. p. 277) Johnson had asked: "Can ac·
tions be the esse of anything? Can they exist or be exerted with·
out some being who is the agent?" Berkeley gave Johnson no
answer to these questions.
85 Second letter of Berkeley to Johnson (ibid. p. 293).
312 S. A. Grave
their being perceived is to attempt an impossible ab-
straction, but we attempt it also if we try to imagine ex-
tension without any of the secondary qualities-though ex-
tension is different from these qualities. Yet if Berkeley
did hold a substantialist doctrine of the soul, how are we
to explain the evasiveness of his replies to Johnson? If he
did not, how are we to understand his argument for the
immortality of the soul?36 And how are we to interpret
the description of the soul or mind as "an active, simple,
uncompounded substance," as "one simple, undivided, ac-
tive being"?37
Esse est percipere, on one interpretation of this for-
mula, resolves the mind into the complexity of its active
and passive experience. Esse est percipi, intended to de-
fine the existence of bodies, has consequences for the mind
that are more radical. The ideas of sense which constitute
corporeal tllings have no being unperceived because their
being is their being perceived. These ideas, Berkeley ex-
plains, are not in the mind "by way of mode"; their pres-
ence in that manner would corporealize the mind; that
they are "in the mind" means only that they are perceived.
If, however, an idea and the perception of an idea are
identical, it is impossible for perception to be a modifica-
tion of the mind. Unless esse est percipi is understood ac-
cording to tlle distinction-principle, so that being and be-
ing perceived are merely (and gratuitously) hyphenated,
36 What is in question are the grounds on which Berkeley in-
fers the immortality of the soul. One of the earliest entries in the
Note Books records the opinion that immortality is easily thought
of without reference to any metaphysics of the soul: "+ Eternity
is onely a train of innumerable ideas. hence the immortality of
y. Soul easily conceiv'd. or rather the immortality of the person,
yt of y" soul not being necessary for ought we can see" (Phil-
osophical Commentaries, No. 14, Works, vol. I, p. 9).
37 The statement, "1 am therefore one individual principle",
which concludes Berkeley's argument against the notion of the
self as "only a system of floating ideas", impenehably disguises
his opinion if he held the self to have only the unity of a system.
The passage in which the argument occurs was added to the third
edition of the Three Dialogues which was published in 1734. The
correspondence between Johnson and Berkeley falls between Sep-
tember 1729 and March 1730.
The Mind and Its Ideas 313
perception seems to sheer off from its subject and to col-
lapse into its objects. "Wherein," to repeat Berkeley's
question, "does the perception of white differ from white?"
If an idea and its perception are held to be identical, and
the mind is thought of not as a substance but as a sys-
tem, a place for perception can be found within this sys-
tem, but ideas will have to become "part of the mind."38
It was Berkeley's doctrine that the mind and its ideas are
entirely distinct and heterogeneous. Behind some very
curious entries in the Note Books lies, at least in part, I
think, a sense of the disruptive impact made on the mind
by the identification of the esse of an idea with its being
perceived:
The soul is the will properly speaking & as it is dis-
tinct from Ideas.
The Spirit the Active thing that weh is Soul & God
is the Will alone .•.30
One wants if possible a unified Berkeley. The primary
aim of this paper is to draw attention to the need for
harmonizing interpretations of statements which are fun-
damental in his philosophy.
38 Cf. D. M. Armstrong, Perception and the Physical World
(Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1962), pp. 71-72.
so Philosophical Commentaries, Nos. 478a, 712 (Works, vol.
1, pp. 60, 87). Cf. Nos. 708 (p. 86), 814 (p. 97), 847 (p. 101).
BERKELEY'S SENSATIONALISM AND THE
ESSE EST PERCIPI-PRINCIPLE
KONRAD MARC-WOGAU

In the following pages I am going to discuss two propo-

sitions and an argument of great importance in Berkeley's
philosophy. I shall try to state the propositions and the
argument as exactly as possible, and to analyze their mu-
tual relations. This seems to me of interest both from a
historical and a systematical point of view. The problem
is partly in what way the propositions in question and the
premisses of the argument are related in Berkeley's own
thinking, i.e. in what way he has used them in his own
system, and partly in what ·way they are logically related.
These two questions are intimately connected with each
other, and I shall begin with some remarks on this con-
nection.
Berkeley undoubtedly belongs to the kind of philoso-
phers who strive to think as consistently as possible, and
who also have a pronounced sense of logical consistence
and clearness. His train of thinking can be said to be con-
ditioned by the logical relations between the propositions
composing it. Now, suppose that a proposition q can be
shown to follow logically from a proposition p, and sup-
pose further that Berkeley takes p as a premiss from which
follows q, then the assumption is reasonable that Berke-
ley's belief in q, at least in part, is determined by his be-
lief in p. (I say "at least in part", since also other con-
siderations and, perhaps, even feelings may have been
relevant in this connection.)
TIle situation is, however, vcry seldom so simple. Most
From TheoTia, Vol. XXIII (1957). Reprinted, with minor
corrections, by pennission of the author.
The Esse est percipi-Principle 315
frequently a proposition q, which a philosopher of Berke-
ley's type vindicates, and which he deduces from a propo-
sition p, does not follow logically from p only, but from p
and other premisses which are not explicitly mentioned.
Berkeley did not always endeavour to state explicitly all
the premisses of his arguments. In the cases where an
argumentation is such that it will be conclusive only if
several not mentioned premisses have to be added, one
is therefore faced with an awkward problem. Then the
question is admissible: did Berkeley believe that the prop-
osition q follows from the proposition p only, without the
aid of other premisses, or did he mean that other prem-
isses need not be mentioned explicitly? In other words:
is his argumentation a false conclusion or is it a correct
conclusion with one or several tacitly implied premisses?
As a rule Berkeley's utterances do not tell how these ques-
tions are to be answered. The choice of either alternative
depends on one's more or less favourable attitude towards
Berkeley. A rigorous critic may perhaps deny the argumen-
tation to be conclusive, if account is to be taken to the
explicitly mentioned premisses only, and consider that as
an objection to Berkeley; a more favourably disposed in-
terpreter, on the other hand, will argue that Berkeley,
since the explicitly mentioned premisses are not sufficient
to make his argumentation conclusive, must have presup-
posed one or several premisses without mentioning them
explicitly. It seems to me that the last-mentioned attitude
ought to be applied by a historian of philosophy to the
utmost limit, if his interpretation shall be of any interest.
Surely, the claim of consistency must not be exaggerated.
Some degree of obscurity and inconsistence can be ex-
pected even in philosophers who endeavour to think con-
sistently. A lack of clearness which we discover in a phi-
losopher, e.g. from the beginning of the eighteenth
century, can easily be explained by the fact that some im-
portant distinctions, which are commonplace to us, had
not been made at that time. The progress in philosophy
consists indeed, to a large extent, in the introduction of
new, previously neglected distinctions. Berkeley, e.g., did
not ask whether a statement is analytic or synthetic,
316 Konrad Marc-Wogau
whether it is logically necessary or merely factual. It is
therefore not astonishing that he can use a thesis some-
times as a logically necessary, sometimes as a factually true
proposition. Also inconsistencies of another kind can be
found. Different theses of a system may appear more or
less evident to the philosopher, and he does not, perhaps,
pay attention to the fact that some consequences of one
thesis contradict some consequences of another. The de-
tection by a critic of such inconsistencies does not con-
tradict the assumption that the philosopher tried to think
as consistently as possible. The situation is, however, quite
different, when one has to do with a limited argumenta-
tion, which appears inconsistent in spite of the fact that
the philosopher assumed it as consistent. My discussion
aims only at such cases. Even then the claim of consist-
ency must, certainly, not be exaggerated. Sometimes,
when explaining an argumentation, it may be reasonable
to speak about a false conclusion, an inconsistency, or a
gap in a chain of proof. Yet, as a rule it is preferable to
avoid such a kind of explanation, provided the argumenta-
tion can, without much construction, be explained by the
introduction of tacitly presupposed premisses.
The historian of philosophy has then to find these pre-
supposed premisses. This is, however, connected with
great difficulties as every argumentation, however unrea-
sonable it may seem from the beginning, can be made
conclusive, if it is allowed to add a sufficient number of
presupposed premisses. The method of making an argu-
mentation conclusive by supplying it with tacitly presup-
posed premisses has, therefore, only a very restricted ap-
plication. The decision of the question whether, in a given
case, any unmentioned premiss may reasonably be presup-
posed must be left to the judgment of the historian of
philosophy. It is rather difficult to lay down some general
guiding rules.
Now, if it is decided to apply the method in question
to a given case, another problem presents itself. It is easily
seen that an argumentation can be made conclusive by
adding different tacitly presupposed premisses or sets of
such premisses. None of the different explanations may be
The Esse est percipi-Principle 317
absurd or improbable. In such cases the historian of phi-
losophy has to make a choice between the different avail-
able explanations. Also here much depends on his judg-
ment. Sometimes it may suffice to add as a presupposed
premiss some trivial proposition which has never been
doubted. The explanation may then seem convincing.
This, however, is an exceptionally simple situation. In
most cases premisses must be added, which are not at all
self-evident or generally accepted. Then the choice be-
tween the different explanations may be guided by some
general considerations. Some of them may be suggested
here:
(a) If there are utterances by the philosopher showing
him to have believed in a proposition p which can explain
an argumentation, then it may seem reasonable to choose
p as additional premiss. Objections can, however, be raised
against this method. It is not at all sure that p, if un-
familiar to commonsense, may be preferred as a presup-
posed premiss to a proposition q which expresses a com-
monsense belief. The situation seems not to be uncom-
mon that a philosopher in many contexts unconsciously
starts from commonsense beliefs, although in other con-
texts he holds quite a different point of view. But suppose
that a proposition p does not express what common-
sense believes, and clearly contradicts what the philoso-
pher utters in other contexts. Can then p be accepted as a
supplementary premiss? By the addition of p as a premiss
the argumentation may, perhaps, be made conclusive; but,
at the same time by this explanation you impute to the
philosopher an inconsistency in another respect. An ex-
planation of this kind may, nevertheless, often appear con-
vincing. The fact that a philosopher, in different parts of
his system, starts from different premisses which contra-
dict each other is less astonishing than an inconsistency or
a faulty reasoning in the case of a brief, carefully worked
out argument. Of course, if it is assumed that the phi-
losopher starts from incompatible premisses in different
contexts, the explanation of this inconsistency also is a
desideratum. (One argumentation, e.g., may be an in-
L*
318 Konrad Marc-Wogau
heritance from a period, when the philosopher started
from other premisses.)
(b) As a rule it is reasonable to choose the weakest of
two propositions both of which, if chosen as supplemen-
tary premisses, can make an argumentation conclusive. If
PI and P2 are such propositions, and if P2 involves PI plus
something more, the explanation by the addition of the
premiss PI is preferable. Psychologically this rule is per-
haps not obvious. In many argumentations we surely start
from unnecessarily strong premisses. Yet, it seems more
cautious and fairer not to impute to the philosopher an
assumption which implies more than is absolutely neces-
sary for the explanation of a given argument.
(c) A premiss is preferable, if it also can explain other
argumentations found in the same philosopher.
These remarks on the method of explanation appear
perhaps self-evident and uncomplicated, but their applica-
tion to a given concrete material implies many problems.
The situation becomes more complicated when the dif-
ferent principles, suggested here, have to be weighed one
against the other. From the following examination of some
of Berkeley's theories it will become evident that often
one and the same argumentation can be explained in dif-
ferent ways; at least it may be very difficult to see the rea-
son for giving preference to one over the others.

A cornerstone in Berkeley's philosophy is his thesis of

the infallibility of sense-perception. We meet it already
in Berkeley's Philosophical Commentaries (=PC). One
ought, he says, to trust the senses as people generally do.
lt is absurd to put aside the senses (entries 740, 539). In
the published writings 'this idea is taken up with the same
decisiveness. What "makes philosophy ridiculous in the
eyes of the world" is that philosophers doubt of everything
they see, hear, or feel (A Treatise concerning the Prin-
ciples of Humtm Knowledge [=Pr.], § 88). And with a
point directed against Cartesianism, Berkeley reiterates:
"That what I see, hear, and feel does exist, • . • I no
more doubt than I do of my own being" (Pr. § 40). "Away
then with all that scepticism, all those ridiculous philo-
The Esse est percipi-Principle 319
sophical doubts. What a jest is it for a philosopher to
question the existence of sensible things, till he has it
proved to him from the veracity of God . . . I might as
well doubt of my own being, as of the being of those
things I actually see and feel" (Three Dialogues between
Hylas and Philonous [=D.], Works of George Berkeley
edited by Luce and Jessop, II 230). And he adds: "That
a thing should be really perceived by my senses, and at the
same time not really exist, is to me a plain contradiction"
(ibid.) .1
This assumption that the object of sense-perception
necessarily is real or exists is a basic idea of sensationalism.
Certainly, it would be wrong to call Berkeley sensational-
ist, if sensationalism means the doctrine that all knowl-
edge consists in, or originates from, sense-perception. He
assumes, as is well known, a special kind of knowledge
which has nothing to do with sense-perception, viz. the
knowledge of minds and relations. It is, however, possible
to speak about the sensationalistic thesis in Berkeley's
philosophy in respect to the above mentioned idea, that
every sense-perception is a perception of something real.
Berkeley, however, maintains a thesis of considerably wider
1 Very instructive in this respect are Berkeley's brief remarks at
the end of § 22 of the Introduction to Pr. (II 39), where he
discusses the possibility of mistake in respect to what is directly
perceived. Like many adherents of the theory of sense-data in
modem time Berkeley maintains that only verbal errors are pos·
sible in respect to the objects of perceiving. "So long as I confine
my thoughts to my own ideas divested of words"-he says-"I do
not see how I can easily be mistaken." He mentions different
possibilities_ (a) "The objects I consider, I clearly and ade-
quately know" (cf. the doctrine that a sense-datum cannot be
otherwise than it is perceived to be); (b) "I cannot be deceived
in thinking 1 have an idea which I have not"; Berkeley thus reo
jects here the possibility of the situation that one believes to
perceive something, e.g. to hear a sound, though in reality he has
no such perception (cf. my book Theorie der Sinnesdaten, p.
428 f.); (c) every judgment about my ideas (the directly per·
ceived), both a judgment in which 1 compare two ideas and a
judgment in which I analyze a given compound idea, is based
upon my attention to the content of my consciousness, Le. is
"knowledge by acquaintance", a knowledge which is founded
upon direct awareness, and therefore does not contain a mistake.
32 0 Konrad Marc-Wogau
scope. The infallibility of sense-perception is due to the
fact that perception is a direct awareness of the object, i.e.
an awareness which does not imply any inference or asso-
ciative transition from something to something else. Yet,
according to Berkeley, all kind of perceiving, not only the
perceiving of ideas of sense, has this nature of direct
awareness. Also the perceiving of ideas of imagination and
memory is direct awareness in this sense, and therefore
free from mistake. 2 Thus the thesis that the perceived is
undoubtedly real or exists is applicable not only to the
objects of sense-experience, but to the objects of every
kind of perceiving. I shall call this thesis the extended
sensationalistic thesis in Berkeley, and shall express it as a
formal implication:
(x) (x is perceived ~ x exists)
(Following an abovementioned principle I choose this
weaker formulation, although a stronger one, e.g. in the
sense of a strict implication, is quite possible; it is very
difficult to know exactly, how much Berkeley attaches to
his own formulations. This is, however, irrelevant to the
following argumentation.)
Another basic thesis in Berkeley's philosophy is the esse
est peTcipi-principle. It holds true of all ideas that their
esse is their percipi. In PC this thesis is introduced as a
new principle of great importance. "This I think wholly
new. I am sure 'tis new to me", Berkeley writes in entry
491. And in his published books he repeatedly returns to
the principle in question, and uses it as an important
premiss in many argumentations.
Though this fundamental principle is referred to and
commented in many contexts, it is very difficult to inter-
pret its meaning. The comparison of different utterances
gives the impression that Berkeley, without observing it,
takes the principle sometimes in one, sometimes in an-
other sense. My first problem is to distinguish some of the
possible senses of the principle between which the inter-
2 Cf. D., II 238: "it being a manifest contradiction to suppose
he should err in respect of that", i.e. what he perceives im-
mediately.
The Esse est percipi-PrincifJle 321

preter has to choose. I ask first what "esse", then what

"fJercifJi", and lastly what "est" can mean in the phrase
"esse est fJercifJi".
1. Berkeley translates the word "esse" sometimes by
"being", but most often by "existence" (or "reality"). In
Pr. § 6 he says that the "being" of the sensible things "is
to be perceived or known". In § 3 and often elsewhere, in
commenting the principle, he asks, on the other hand,
what is meant "by the term exist when applied to sensible
things". This different translation may correspond to a dif-
ference in respect to what Berkeley intends to say. It is
well known that the term "esse" has been used in mediae-
val philosophy both for "essentia" and "existentia". If
"esse" is taken in the former sense, the principle could be
interpreted as a statement to the effect that the property
to be perceived is essential to ideas or sensible things or is
implied by their very being, i.e. that it belongs to the no-
tion idea or sensible thing.s If, on the other hand, "esse"
is taken in the latter sense, the principle must mean that
the existence of ideas, which is a property not belonging
to the notion idea, involves their being perceived. Be-
tween these two interpretations there exists a fundamental
difference. According to the former the principle is an
analytic statement the truth of which follows from Berke-
ley's definition of the terms "idea" and "sensible thing" as
object of perceiving. The principle means that the prop-
erty of being perceived necessarily belongs to the idea, in
virtue of this definition. According to the latter interpre-
tation of "esse" the principle may be non-analytic. It only
states that there is, in respect to ideas, an intimate rela-
tion between their property to exist and their property to
be perceived, a relation which does not necessarily follow
from the meaning of the word "idea".
Berkeley considered his esse est percifJi-principle as a
S Cf. e.g. Pro § 25, where Berkeley expresses the doctrine that
passiveness is essential to ideas by the words: "the very being of
an idea implies passiveness". In the same manner, but using now
the word "existence", he says in the third Dialogue (II 236)
"every unthinking being is necessarily, and from the very nature
of its existence, perceived by some mind".
322 Konrad Marc-Wogau
demonstrable principle. "Newton begs his principle, I
demonstrate mine", he says in PC, entry 407. It could then
be concluded that the principle is not meant as an analytic
statement in the given sense. There seems to be stronger
evidence for the interpretation of the principle as a state-
ment the truth of which does not follow from the defini-
tion of the term "idea". But it is, of course, also possible
that Berkeley, without observing it, gave his principle dif-
ferent senses in different contexts.
Some evidence for the interpretation of tile principle
as an analytic statement in the given sense can be found
at the beginning of the first dialogue. It is worth while to
examine Philonous' argumentation in these pages. Here
the discussion turns about the meaning of the term "sen-
sible thing"; Philonous introduces the definition: "sensible
things are those only which are immediately perceived".
He then demonstrates that only sensible qualities, like
light, colour, shape, sound, etc., are sensible things. In
spite of the fact that he nowhere makes an explicit state-
ment to this effect, his conclusion seems to be tIlat the
property of a sensible quality to be immediately perceived
follows from the definition of the tcrm "sensible thing".4
Thus the statement that the quality of being immediately
perceived is indispensable to a scnsible thing seems to be
analytic. It must, however, be observed that this argu-
mentation is based upon a wholly unwarranted transition
from the definition of "sensible things" as those objects,
"which can be perceived immediately by sense" to the
definition: "sensible things are those only whicll are im-
mediately perceived by sense" (II 174; italics mine). In
this context Philonous really shifts from one definition to
the other, Hylas not observing tile trap. The two defini-
tions are indeed entirely different: that a sensible thing
4 The last sentence of Pr. § 4 may, perhaps, be considered as
such a conclusion. "Eor what arc the forementioned objects (i.e.
sensible objects) but the things we perceive by sense, and what
do we perceive besides our own ideas or sensations; and is it not
plainly repugnant that anyone of these or any combination of
them should exist unperceived?" This repugnance is, Berkeley
seems to mean, a consequence of the definition of "sensible
things" as things immediately perceived by sense.
The Esse est percipi-Principle 323
must be actually perceived, follows from the latter, but
not from the former. Not before the third dialogue (II
234) does Hylas quite legitimately raise the objection: "I
grant the existence of a sensible thing consists in being
perceivable but not in being actually perceived". But by
this time Philonous is able to refer to earlier alleged rea-
sons that an idea cannot exist without being actually per-
ceived. Thus, while at the beginning of the first dialogue
the esse est percipi-principle, viz. that ideas exist. only
when actually perceived, is introduced as an analytic
statement the truth of which follows from the definition
of "sensible thing", the argumentation which follows
clearly shows that the principle is not meant as an analytic
statement of this kind. Only the assumption that the prin-
ciple is not an analytic statement makes it also explainable
why Berkeley felt a need of its demonstration.
2. The terms "percipl?' (to be perceived) and "per-
cipere" (to perceive) Berkeley uses in a very wide sense.
As has already been indicated "perceiving" means direct
awareness of ideas, i.e. an apprehension which does nei-
ther contain nor presuppose any inference or transition
from one mental act to another. It is the opposite to "rea-
son" or demonstrative knowledge. As awareness of ideas,
it is also opposite to the knowledge of minds and relations
which, according to Berkeley, is a special kind of knowl-
edge, introduced in the later editions of Pr. and D. as
"notion". Perceiving seems to comprise both sensuous and
unsensuous cognition, not only the apprehension of sen-
sible things and of ideas of memory and imagination, but
also a kind of unsensuous knowledge of what something
is. Berkeley e.g. uses the expression "to perceive the table"
not only in respect to the apprehension which 1 or other
finite minds have of the table, but also to God's percep-
tion of the table though "His ideas are not convey'd to
Him by sense, as ours are" (II 241). According to one of
Berkeley's letters to S. Johnson, it is easy to think of the
mind freed from the body as having ideas of colour with-
out an eye and of sounds without an ear (II 282). In these
cases the perception might be understood in analogy to
what Berkeley says about God's having the idea of pain.
324 Konrad Marc-Wogau
God does not suffer pain, but he knows "what pain is,
even every sort of painful sensation" (II 240). His per-
ceiving of ideas is a kind of knowledge of what they are.-
In PC Berkeley's mode of expression is more differenti-
ated. There he speaks about "being perceived, imagined,
thought on". In his published writings the term "to per-
ceive" is a comprehensive term for all these different kinds
of apprehension. When the esse est percipi-principle is
discussed, the different kinds of apprehension are only
seldom enumerated. The expression in PT. § 6 that the
being of ideas "is to be perceived or known", is one of the
few exceptions.
It has been maintained that Berkeley's term "peTcip!'
does refer not only to the actual, but also to a possible
awareness of an idea. "Esse" is also "posse peTcipf'.fl This
interpretation can be supported by a clear utterance in
§ 3 of Pr., where Berkeley says: "The table I write on, I
say, exists, that is, I see and feel it; and if I were out of my
study I should say it existed, meaning thereby that if I
was in my study I might perceive it, or that some other
spirit actually does perceive it". Thus the existence of the
table means that it can be perceived, or that it is actually
perceived by a mind. 6 According to the theory of creation,
worked out by Philonous in the third dialogue, things
partly have absolute existence, as far as they are (actually)
perceived by God, partly "relative or hypothetical" exist-
ence, as far ,as they have been made accessible by God's
creation to possible perception of finite minds. The crea-
tion consists in God's decision that "they should become
perceptible to intelligent creatures, in that order and man-
ner which he then established and we now call the laws
of nature" (II 253). That the table in my study exists in
this hypothetical sense thus means that it should be per-
ceived by me or some other finite spirit, if I or he be in my
study.-There exist, on the other hand, many clear utter-
ances by Berkeley showing that "percipl~' in the phrase
"esse est percipf' does not refer to possible, but only to
fl Cf. A. A. Luce, Berkeley's Immaterialism, p. 61.
6 Also other utterances can be adduced as evidences for this
hypothetical interpretation of existence. Cf. Pr. § 58.
The Esse est percipi-Principle 325
actual perceiving. When Hylas, in the third dialogue,
grants that "the existence of a sensible thing consists in
being perceivable, but not in being actually perceived",
Philonous blames him with the words: "And what is per-
ceivable but an idea? And can an idea exist without being
actually perceived?" (II 234). In Pro § 78 Berkeley says
that ideas "exist only in a mind perceiving them; and this
is true not only of the ideas we are acquainted with at
present, but likewise of all possible ideas whatsoever",
The existence of a possible idea thus seems to mean that
it is actually perceived by a mind. When I am out of my
study, the table in the study is, according to Berkeley, al-
ways actually perceived, at least by God. If it exists, it is
actually perceived. The counterfactual that I should per-
ceive it, if I were in my study, may be true, but is irrele-
vant to the question of the existence of the table.
But how should then Berkeley's utterance in § 3 be ex-
plained? I think that the interpretation of the existence of
an unseen thing in terms of possibility of perception is a
residue from Berkeley's earlier way of thinking. In PC we
are faced with this doctrine. There it is connected with
Berkeley's opinion that bodies are powers in active sub-
stances. In the entry 293a we read: "Bodies taken for
Powers do exist when not perceiv'd, but this existence is
not actual. When I say a power exists no more is meant
than that if in the light I open my eyes and look that way,
I shall see it . . . etc." In entries 98 and 185a Berkeley
again maintains the existence of a tree in the park or of
colours in the dark in the sense that we should see the tree
and the colours if we walked in the park or if light il-
luminated the colours. Later Berkeley abandoned this in-
teresting idea. It has to bl'! observed that at this time
Berkeley had not yet laid down the argument for the exist-
ence of God, an argument which plays an important rtlle
in his published writings. One premiss of this argument is
that the existence of material things presupposes their
actual perception. This premiss obviously contradicts the
earlier idea that the existence of bodies or colours means
that they can be perceived.
326 Konrad Marc-W ogau
3. The interpretation of "ese' in the phrase "esse est
percipi" presents a rather difficult problem. Here it seems
to me quite certain that Berkeley, without being aware of
it, takes the term in two different senses, a stronger and a
weaker.
A. A usual expression in Berkeley's writings reads that
the esse of the ideas "consists" in their percipi. Thus
Philonous asks at the beginning of the first dialogue:
"Does the reality of sensible things consist in being per-
ceived? or, is it something distinct from their being per-
ceived?" (II 175; d. II 42 et passim). This expression
seems to be plausibly interpreted, if we say that the prop-
erty to exist and the property to be perceived are one and
the same property. Esse est percipi then states the identity
of esse and percipi. In contradiction to the common opin-
ion that the term "to exist" designates one property and
the term "to be perceived" another property, the new
principle states that both terms designate the same prop-
erty, viz. a relation to the perceiving mind.
In different contexts it may even seem as if the esse est
percipi were introduced as a definition of the term "esse",
either as a declaration of the sense in which Berkeley
wants to use this term, or as a statement what sense the
term has in common speech. Thus Berkeley says in PC
that he does not "take away existence. I only declare the
meaning of the Word so far as I can comprehend it"
(entry 593). In the entry 604 he is persuaded that people
would agree with him, if they "examine what they mean
by the word existence" (cf. en try 408). The same opinion
Berkeley stresses in Pro when introducing his new prin-
ciple: "I think an intuitive knowledge may be obtained of
this, by anyone that shall attend to what is meant by the
term exist when applied to sensible things" (§ 3).
Many investigators into Berkeley's philosophy have pro-
posed the interpretation of the esse est percipi as a defini-
tion, at least as one altemative. 7 Another possible inter-
pretation of the esse est percipi is as an analytic statement
the truth of which follows from the definition of the term
7 Cf. I. Hedenius, Sensatio1UJlism and Theology in Berkeley's
Philosophy, 1936, p. 45.
The Esse est percipi-PrincifJle 32 7
"esse". Both interpretations seem, however, to contradict
the abovementioned fact that Berkeley tries to demon-
strate his principle. Indeed his text contains several argu-
ments in which the principle is deduced from different
premisses. Such arguments would be out of place, if the
esse est fJercifJi were intended as a definition or an analytic
statement the truth of which follows from the definition
of the term "esse".
There is at any rate much stronger evidence for the in-
terpretation of the principle as a synthetic proposition
which states the identity of esse and fJercifJi. But here
again the vagueness of Berkeley's text makes it impossible
to know exactly, whether the relation between esse and
percifJi aimed at by him is the relation of identity or a
weaker one, e.g. of strict or formal equivalence. Following
a methodological rule mentioned in the introduction to
this paper I select the weakest formulation of Berkeley's
principle in the sense discussed so far:
(x) (x exists::x is perceived) (2)
(where the values of x are restricted to ideas).
It may be observed that the extended sensationalistic
thesis in Berkeley's philosophy (our proposition (1» fol-
lows logically from the esse est percipi, irrespective of the
interpretation of the relation between esse and peTcipi as
identity, strict equivalence, or formal equivalence. If the
esse est percifJi is to be interpreted as the formal equiva-
lence (2), then it can be said to be a conjunction of the
extended sensationalistic thesis ( 1) and the formal im-
plication:
(x) (x exists :J x is perceived) (3).
In many contexts Berkeley adduces the esse est percifJi as
an argument for the sensationalistic thesis. Thus in Pro
§ 88, when denying the possibility of doubting the "things
which I actually perceive by sense", he says: "it being a
manifest contradiction, that any sensible object should be
immediately perceived by sight or touch, and at the same
time have no existence in nature, since the very existence
of an unthinking being consists in being perceived". Again,
328 Konrad Marc-Wogau
in the following argumentation of the third dialogue the
sensationalistic thesis is taken as a consequence of the
esse est perci{Ji. Here Philonous wants to show that the
esse est percipi corresponds to the view of commonsense.
"Ask the gardener", he says, "why he thinks yonder cherry-
tree exists in the garden, and he shall tell you, because he
sees and feels it. . . . Ask him, why he thinks an orange-
tree not to be there, and he shall tell you, because he does
not perceive it" (II 234). Both answers, Berkeley seems to
mean, are quite intelligible, if the gardener tacitly pre-
supposes as a premiss the esse est percipi-principle. They
are instances of the two implications constituting the prin-
ciple: a is perceived ~ a exists and a is not perceived ~ a
does not exist (or a exists ~ a is perceived).
B. Berkeley seems, however, to take his principle also
in a weaker sense which may be expressed by the formal
implication:
(x) (x exists :J x is perceived)
(or, perhaps, by the corresponding strict implication).
Both in Pr. and in D. the presentation of the esse est
percipi-principle is followed by a long argumentation
which is meant as a motivation of this principle. But it is
quite obvious that, in case the argumentation proves any-
thing, it must be the weaker proposition (3) and not the
stronger (2). The main question here is, whether or not
the ideas "can exist without being perceived", and this is
what Berkeley denies.
Sometimes one gets the impression that Berkeley him-
self oscillates between the two senses of the esse est per-
cipi. Let us consider the following argumentation in D.
(II 230): "(a) ideas cannot exist without the mind; (h)
their existence therefore consists in being perceived; (c)
when therefore they are actually perceived, there can be
no doubt of their existence". The argumentation consists
of three propositions, here called a, h, and c. The second
proposition is introduced as a consequence of the first, and
the third as a consequence of the second. This second
proposition h, which is the esse est percipi-principle, thus
acts the part of the conclusion in one, and the part of a
The Esse est percipi-Principle 329
premiss in the other argumentation. "Therefore" in b
shows that b is meant to express that b follows from a.
Now if this is to be the case the esse est peTcipi-principle
must here be taken in the weaker sense (3). In this sense,
but not in the stronger sense ( 2 ), the principle indeed
follows from the statement that ideas cannot exist without
the mind [i.e. (x) (x exists ~ x is within the mind)], and
from the presupposed premiss that to be within the mind
means to be perceived by the mind. But here the esse est
peTcipi also acts the part of premiss in another argumenta-
tion, an argumentation of the same kind as the above-
mentioned in PT. § 88. As in this paragraph, the principle
must here have the stronger sense (2), if the argumenta-
tion shall be conclusive. If the passage quoted is really
meant as an argumentation, it illustrates how the sense of
the esse est peTcipi-principle can suddenly change in
Berkeley's text.-Also another interpretation is of course
possible: It could be said that the esse est peTcipi-principle
always has the stronger sense (2), and that the argumenta-
tion quoted is logically inconclusive. The former interpre-
tation is, however, preferable. The alternative, viz. that
Berkeley did not clearly distinguish between the different
senses of the term "est", is less improbable than the al-
ternative that he has committed the more obvious logical
fault which otherwise his argumentation would be found
to contain.
Let us, however, drop the question, whether the weaker
proposition (3) or the stronger proposition (2) expresses
what Berkeley called the esse est peTcipi-principle. TIle
essential point is that the proposition (3) has a great im-
portance in Berkeley's philosophy, and that this proposi-
tion already expresses his idealism. (3) is also the
proposition which Berkeley strives to prove by different ar-
guments. In the rest of this paper I want to discuss one of
these arguments. It is the argument which according to
Berkeley is sufficient to prove his idealism. Berkeley is
willing to abandon his idealistic philosophy, if the argu-
ment can be refuted. (Cf. PT. § 22, D. II 200.)
The argument in question refers to what Perry has
called "the ego-centric predicament", and is intended to
330 Konrad Marc-Wogau
prove our proposition (3). It is alluded to in PC, entry
472, and elaborated in Pr. § 23 and the first dialogue (II
200). In Pr. Berkeley asks, whether we could imagine
trees in a park, or books in a closet, and nobody present to
perceive them. His answer is that this can easily be done
by framing in our minds certain ideas of trees and books,
and at the same time omitting to frame an idea of anyone
who may perceive them. But also then we ourselves must
perceive them or think of them all the time. Although
nobody is. imagined to perceive the ideas, they are never-
theless perceived. But to imagine or to perceive ideas as
not perceived at all is a contradiction. In order to show
that ideas exist without the mind or unperceived, "it is
necessary that you conceive them existing unconceived or
unthought of, which is a manifest repugnancy".-In a sim-
ilar way the argument is presented in the first dialogue.
Hylas declares: "what more easy than to conceive a tree or
house existing by itself independent of, and unperceived
by any mind whatsoever?" Philonous then presses him:
"How say you, Hylas, can you see a thing which is at the
same time unseen? . . . Is it not as great a contradiction
to talk of conceiving a thing which is unconceived? . • •
The tree or house therefore which you think of, is con-
ceived by you" and thus "in the mind." Hylas then finds
out his mistake, and declares: "As I was thinking of a tree
in a solitary place, where no one was present to see it, me-
thought that was to conceive a tree as existing unperceived
or unthought of, not considering that I myself conceived it
all the while."
Now, what is the logical structure of this argument, and
which are its premisses? Different interpretations are pos-
sible. In the following I intend to discuss five different
interpretations.8
I. In his famous paper on the ego-centric predicament9
R. B. Perry, without mentioning any particular philoso-
8 Other possible interpretations, e.g. the interpretation given
by A. N. Prior in his short paper "Berkeley in logical fonn"
(Theoria XXI, 1955), will not be discussed here.
9 R. B. Perry, "The Ego·centric Predicament", Journal of Phi-
losophy, VII, 1910.
The Esse est percipi-PrincifJle 33 1
pher, points to the opinion of idealists that idealism can
be proved by an inductive inference. The following seems
to be his way of reasoning. Let us examine different cases
in which an idea can be said to exist, e.g. a book in the
closet, or a tree in a park etc. Then we shall find that all
these cases, without exception, agree also in so far as the
ideas in question are perceived (at least by the person who
examines the cases). Now, by the method of agreement
the conclusion is drawn from the examined cases-unjustly
according to Perry-that all ideas are perceived. Or, to
state it in a different way which better fits Berkeley's
words: in order to show the falsehood of the statement
that there exists an idea without being perceived, let us
consider different ideas, e.g. a book in the closet, or a tree
in the park, etc. When examining them we must still
think of them; they are thus perceived. And this being the
case in all examined cases, without exception, it is proba-
ble that there is no idea at all which exists unperceived.
It is, however, very unlikely, that Berkeley in the passages
quoted should have this argumentation in mind. Admit-
tedly, he there considers different cases in which an idea
is supposed to exist unperceived, and he shows that the
idea is yet perceived, at least by the mind, who supposes
it. But his conclusion seems not to be an inductive one.
The issue is not that probably no idea exists unconceived,
but that it is logically absurd to suppose an idea which
exists . unperceived. The exemplification indeed has its
part to play, but rather as an illustration in concreto than
as an induction. To prove the statement that every idea
which exists is perceived, Berkeley endeavours to show the
absurdity of supposing that there exists an unperceived
idea. And in order to show this he discusses some exam-
ples. He argues as follows: it is absurd to suppose that the
idea of a book exists unperceived, or that the idea of a
tree exists unperceived, or that any idea whatsoever should
exist unperceived. This is, however, not an induction.
In the following interpretations (II-V) of Berkeley's
argumentation I shall presuppose that this argumentation
is a deductive inference, and that Berkeley intended to
33 2 Konrad Marc-\Vogau
show the assumption of an idea, which exists unperceived,
to be not only false, but logically absurd.
II. According to this second interpretation it is absurd
to suppose that an idea should exist unperceived, since
this supposition itself entails that the idea in question is
perceived. The argumentation looks like a reductio ad
absurdum of the type (,...., p ::> p) ::> p. A proposition p (in
our case the proposition no idea exists unperceived) is
proved by showing that the negation of p implies p. I say
that the argumentation "looks like" a reductio ad absur-
dum, because it clearly is not a reductio ad absurdum in
the strict sense, though it may, at the outset, seem to be
one. The proposition which is shown to be absurd is, in-
deed, not the negation of the proposition to be proved,
i.e. it is not the proposition
(a ) there is an idea, x, which exists unperceived,
but the proposition
(b) I suppose (perceive) that there is an idea, x, which
exists unperceived.
In other words: what is absurd is not the supposed propo-
sition that an idea, x, exists unperceived, but the very
supposition of it.
Now, Berkeley was persuaded that the proposition (b)
is absurd, and that it follows from (b) that the supposed
idea x is perceived; but did he believe that his argumenta-
tion is a reductio ad absurdum in the strict sense? It is
possible. The interpretation II states that Berkeley's argu-
mentation is meant as a reductio ad absurdum, and that
Berkeley thus commits a logical fault: he confounds the
proposition (a) with the proposition (b). (In order to
give a psychological explanation of this confusion, one
could refer to the fact that if somebody utters "p" he ex-
presses what he means, i.e. p, and usually also that he be-
lieves in or supposes p. This makes it easy to confound
the supposition of p with P. itself.) 10
10 A. N. Prior also assumes (I.e., p. 122), that Berkeley in his
argumentation commits a logical fault: he confuses the proposi-
tion (i) "1 suppose that there is an idea, x, which is unperceived,
The Esse est percipi-Principle 333
III. Another interpretation is that Berkeley did not con-
fuse the propositions (a) and (b). He found the transition
from (a) to (b) quite natural and consistent, because he
tacitly presupposed a premiss which makes the transition
reasonable, e.g. the premiss that (a) implies (b). In this
case his argumentation runs as follows. In order to prove
the proposition (P) that no idea exists unperceived, let us
suppose its negation (=a) to be true. Now, if (a) is true,
also (b) is true (according to the tacitly presupposed
premiss). But if (b) is true, it follows that x, which was
assumed to exist unperceived, is perceived, i.e. that p is
true. Thus from the negation of p follows the truth of p,
which is absurd. But is there any evidence for this inter-
pretation of Berkeley's argument? It is quite obvious that
Descartes' well-known argument that the proposition I
think is indubitable, serves as a model for Berkeley's argu-
mentation in the entry 472 of PC. Descartes' argument
can be made conclusive by adding a tacitly presupposed
premiss, a proposition quite analogous to the premiss men-
tioned above, viz. the implication: I do not think implies
I think that I do not think.ll It is natural to presuppose
the implication between a proposition p and the proposi-
tion I think (suppose) that p in the part of Descartes'
system, where he decides to doubt of all propositions, and
not to suppose any proposition to be true, before he had
clearly conceived the proposition in question to be in-
dubitable. By his resolution not to accept any proposition
without first examining and doubting it, Descartes elimi-
nates all propositions which are not objects of reflection.
In this situation, if a proposition p is true, also the propo-
sition I think that p must be true. The premiss that p im-
plies I think that p is under such circumstances intelli-
gible in Descartes. Although Berkeley quite certainly had
Descartes' argument in mind, when writing the entry 472,
and x is unperceived" with the proposition (ii) "there is an idea,
x, which I suppose to be unperceived and which is unperceived".
Only (ii), not (i) is, according to Prior, a contradiction; Berke-
ley, however, must show the proposition (i) to be impossible if
he is to establish his idealism.
11 Cf. my paper "Descartes' Zweifel und der Satz Cogito, ergo
BUm" in TheorUz 1954.
334 Konrad Marc-Wogau
there is no reason to suppose that he laid down a premiss
of this kind. As we shall see in a moment, Berkeley means
that (b) implies ( a ), but his text furnishes no evidence
for the supposition that he should believe that (a) im-
plies (b).
The interpretations II and III both maintain that
Berkeley's argumentation is meant to be a reductio ad
absurdum. In meaning this Berkeley, according to II, com-
mits a logical fault, according to III his argumentation
can be made conclusive by adding a tacitly implied prem-
iss, the weak, but rather strange proposition: (a) implies
( b ), which otherwise does not play any part in Berkeley's
philosophy. If we only had to choose between these two
interpretations, the choice would be very difficult. The
suggested supplementary premiss being rather far-fetched,
I should recommend the interpretation II, in spite of the
rule, proposed in the introduction, according to which an
interpretation by introduction of tacitly presupposed
premisses is preferable to the view that the argument is a
logical mistake. Fortunately there exist other possible in-
terpretations (IV and V). According to them Berkeley's
argument is not meant to be a reductio ad absurdum in a
strict sense.
IV. The interpretation IV starts from the following
idea. Berkeley may have meant the proposition an idea,
x, is perceived to be such that it is absurd to question its
truth, because the proposition I suppose, that the propo-
sition in question is false entails that the proposition is
true. The proposition an idea, x, is perceived is in this
sense indubitable. Its truth follows from the supposition
that it is false. According to the interpretation IV Berkeley
may have been of the opinion that the questioning of a
proposition p is absurd, and p itself indubitable, if p is
such that its truth follows from the questioning of p (i.e.
from the proposition I suppose that p is false). Some evi-
dence for this interpretation may, perhaps, be found in
PC, entry 472, which probably is the first outcast of the ar-
gument elaborated in Pr. and D., although there are obvi-
ous differences. Berkeley here wants to prove that existence
is necessary to an idea. The passage ending with the con-
The Esse est percipi-Principle 335
densed sentence "you can at no time ask me whether they
(the ideas) exist or no, but by reason of that very ques-
tion they must necessarily exist", I understand in the fol-
lowing way. Berkeley first shows that it is necessary for the
ideas to be perceived. Then he concludes, referring to the
esse est percipi-principle which is presupposed here in the
sense that the existence of the idea consists in being per-
ceived, that existence is necessary to the idea (the idea
"must necessarily exist"). But how does he show, that it
is necessary for the idea to be perceived? The idea is-he
means-necessarily perceived, because the questioning of
its being perceived (or its existence}, i.e. the proposition
I suppose (perceive) that the idea is not perceived (or
does not exist) implies the proposition that the idea is
perceived, and thus exists. That the idea is perceived or
exists is thus indubitable in the sense that the truth of the
proposition the idea is perceived logically follows from
the questioning of this proposition. Analogically, Berke-
ley's argumentation in Pr. and D. may be interpreted in
this way: That the proposition whichever idea exists as per-
ceived follows from the questioning of this proposition,
i.e. from the proposition (b): I suppose that an idea, x,
exists unperceived, proves, according to Berkeley, that the
existing idea is- nece$sarily perceived.
A salient point in this argumentation as well as in II
and III is the supposition that the proposition the idea is
Perceived follows from the proposition I suppose that the
idea is perceived. If the interpretation IV is correct, this
logical relation (or, perhaps, the weaker one of implica-
tion) between these two propositions must have been sup-
posed by Berkeley. Now, this supposition is by no means
self-evident. We have thcn to explain, how he could lay
down this premiss. It has to be kept in mind that Berkeley
takes the term "perceiving" in a very wide sense: it com-
prises different kinds of apprehension. In this connection
it is of special importance that according to Berkeley also
a question about something, a supposition, or even a mere
mention of something implies that this something is per-
ceived. If I suppose that something, x, has such and such
qualities, I have perceived x. If an idca x is mentioned,
336 Konrad Marc-Wogau
x is perceived, Berkeley holds forth in PC, entry 472.
Starting from this opinion about the nature of a supposi-
tion, Berkeley can conclude that the proposition I suppose
that something, x, exists unperceived implies that x is per-
ceived, since to suppose something about x implies to per-
ceive x.
To sum up: According to our interpretation IV of
Berkeley's argument for his esse est percipi-principle
Berkeley tacitly presupposes in it two premisses. The first
(O!) means that a proposition p must be considered as
proved or necessarily true, if the truth of p follows from
the questioning of p, i.e. from the proposition I suppose
that p is false; the second {(3) means that to suppose
something about x implies to perceive x. The former sup-
position seems to play some part in PC, entry 472; the
latter follows immediately from Berkeley's definition of
"perceiving".
If this interpretation is correct, Berkeley's argument
may be criticized by questioning one of these premisses
or both. An objection to the first premiss is this: In the
case of a proposition which can be doubted, the truth of
this proposition does not generally follow from our doubt.
This is true, but it is not at all self-evident that a proposi-
tion must be considered as proved or indubitable, if its
truth follows from the doubt of it. If Berkeley really has
presupposed this premiss, the question arises, how he
could take it as something self-evident or certain. We
have then come back to the question, whether its explana-
tion yet has to be found in a confusion of this situation
with the one in which the truth of a proposition p follows
from the negation of p. As an objection to the second
premiss (fJ) one may insist upon that the supposition of
something, x, having such and such qualities does not im-
ply that x is immediately perceived, but only that x is
pointed to by a description. If Berkeley's presupposed
premisses are uncertain or not evident, his argument, of
course, loses its force.
But there is another much more obvious objection
against the interpretation IV. In the quoted passages of
Pro and D. Berkeley does not express himself exactly in the
The Esse est percipi-Principle 337
way supposed in the interpretation IV. He does not say
that it follows from the supposition that an idea exists
unperceived, that the idea is perceived. What he says is
that it is a "manifest repugnancy" to perceive something
as existing unperceived. He seems to understand the prop-
osition I perceive something, x, as existing unperceived
as a statement that x is both perceived and not perceived.
He considers the proposition in question as absurd as the
proposition I see a thing which at the same time is not
seen. And this proposition is absurd, because it implies
that the thing is both seen and unseen.
V. An interpretation of Berkeley's argument which
seems to do better justice to this point is the following. A
tacitly implied premiss is this: a proposition p must be
considered as certain or proved, if the supposition of its
negation, i.e. the proposition I suppose that p is false, is
a contradiction. Now, with regard to the proposition no
ideas exist unperceived it holds true, Berkeley may have
meant, that the supposition of its negation, i.e. the propo-
sition I suppose that some idea, x, exists unperceived, is
contradictory, because it implies that x is both perceived
and not perceived. Thus, the proposition no ideas exist
unperceived is proved.
The first premiss (a) of the interpretation IV is here
substituted by a similar one (at): a proposition p is
proved, if the proposition I assume that p is false is a
contradiction. For this premiss there is, however, as far as
I can see, nq evidence in other passages of Berkeley's writ-
ings. It is not at all clear, why Berkeley supposes it here.
The second premiss (f3) of the interpretation IV is, of
course, presupposed also in the interpretation V. But here
also a third premiss ('}') is presupposed which is not at all
self-evident. viz. that the proposition I suppose that x is
unperceived implies that x is unperceived. This premiss
must be presupposed, since the contradiction of the sup-
position of an unperceived idea consists, according to
Berkeley, in the fact that this supposition implies that the
idea is both perceived and unperceived.
Certainly Berkeley thought of the possibility of making
erroneous assumptions to the effect that something is the
338 Konrad Marc-Wogau
case. In fact he lets Hylas first mistakenly assume that
there exists an idea which is not perceived. Assumptions
such as these do not have the infallibility which belongs
to sense perceptions. They may be erroneous. Thus our
premiss 'Y cannot be regarded as a consequence of the ex-
tended sensationalistic thesis. Since, however, in this con-
text it is evidently a question of assuming truly, premiss y
can still be easily explained. If I assume truly that x is un-
perceived, then it follows of course that x is unperceived.
I have tried to give different interpretations of Berke-
ley's argument, and have in each case discussed the ques-
tion, how his argumentation should be explained. The
fifth interpretation which seems to me to be the most
probable, as it most exactly follows Berkeley's words in
Pr. and D., states that the argument can be made con-
sistent by adding three tacitly presupposed premisses.
For some of these premisses some evidence can be found
in Berkeley's text in other contexts. If they are presup-
posed, the statement becomes logically correct that the
supposition of the existence of an unperceived idea is ob-
viously repugnant.
It is reasonable to criticize Berkeley's argument by
questioning these tacitly presupposed premisses. If they
are dubious, the argument is not conclusive. But also a
wholly different objection can be raised against it by ex-
amining its bearings on other theories in Berkeley'S phi-
losophy. Even if the argument can be made conclusive by
supplementary premisses, it is impossible to overcome
some difficulties or inconsistencies which the argument
leads to in Berkeley's system. I shall conclude this essay
by pointing at two difficulties of this kind which, as far as I
can see, cannot be avoided.by any reasonable explanation.
1. Berkeley'S argument proves too little. What Berke-
ley wants to prove is that there can be no idea which is un-
perceived at any time. But from the proposition I suppose
(perceive) that an idea, x, exists unperceived and from
Berkeley's presupposed premisses it only follows that the
idea is perceived at tb if the supposition is made at tb
but not that the idea is perceived at any time. There is
no contradiction in the supposition of an idea existing un-
The Esse est percipi-Principle 339
perceived at all other times except the time, when the
supposition is made. We must distinguish between two
quite different situations: to perceive at a given time that
an idea exists unperceived at that time, and to perceive at
a given time that an idea exists unperceived at another
time. If what happened yesterday (at t 1 ) is perceived now
(at t 2 ), an idea which existed at tl is perceived at t 2 ;
and this does not entail that the idea was perceived also
at t 1 • What the argument proves is thus not the whole
thesis which is a cornerstone in' Berkeley's philosophy.
2.. Berkeley's argument proves too much. If it is conclu-
sive, one of its consequences contradicts another well-
known thesis in Berkeley's theory. TIie argument implies
that an idea about which I suppose something is perceived
by me. But according to Berkeley's own theory an idea
must not necessarily be perceived by me; it can exist as
perceived by other minds, at least by God. From the argu-
ment, as interpreted above, it follows that it is impossible
for me to suppose that an idea, e.g. the table in my study
when I am out, exists unperceived by me, because my as-
sumption of its existence implies that the idea is perceived
by me. Berkeley's thesis that I can assume the existence
of an idea unperceived by me, if only it is perceived by
another mind, presupposes on the other hand that the
supposition of something about an idea is possible with-
out the idea being perceived by the person, who makes
the supposition; and this contradicts one of the premisses
of Berkeley's argument.
It has been maintained12 that from the beginning
Berkeley probably was of the opinion that I can only as-
sume the existence of the idea which is perceived by me;
only later he adopted the theory that the idea must be
perceived by some mind, not necessarily by me who sup-
pose its existence. If this is correct, it may be assumed that
Berkeley let the earlier elaborated argument be a part of
his theory, not observing that it now, by the change of his
point of view, had become incompatible with other ele-
ments of the theory.
12 Cf. Dawes Hicks, Berkeley, 1932, p. 113; A. Johnston, The
Development of Berkeley's Philosophy, 1923, p. 190 f.
 THE ARGUMENT FROM ILLUSION
AND BERKELEY'S IDEALISM
KONRAD MARC-WOGAU

The argument from illusion is used by Berkeley both in

A Treatise concerning the Principles of Human Knowl-
edge (=Pr.) and Three Dialogues between Hylas and
Philonous (=D.). It occurs in at least two different ver-
sions, and seems to lead to different conclusions. Some-
times it is intended to prove Berkeley's idealistic thesis.
Let us begin with an analysis of a version of the argu-
ment, adduced by Philonous in the first dialogue, when he
discusses different sensible qualities.
In regard to the qualities heat and cold, Berkeley takes
up Locke's example. Philonous first lays down that a doc-
trine which leads us into an absurdity cannot be true, and
that it is "an absurdity to think that one and the same
thing should be at the same time both cold and warm"
(Works edited by Luce and Jessop, II 178). Next, he ad-
duces the wellknown fact that, if I put my two hands,
the one warm and the other cold, into the same vessel of
water of an intermediate temperature, the water will seem
cold to the one hand and warm to the other. Now, if we
suppose that the perceived qualities really are in the water,
then the absurdity arises that the water is at the same
time both cold and warm (II 178 f.).
Thus, some presupposed premisses, together with the
perceived fact that the water seems cold to the one hand
and warm to the other, lead into an absurdity. Which
are these premisses? I think, they can be summed up by
the following four propositions:
From Theoria, Vol. XXIV (1958). Reprinted by permission
of the author.
Argument from Illusion 34 1
(1) One and the same thing cannot simultaneously
have two incompatible qualities;
(2.) the qualities cold and warm are incompatible;
( 3) a perceived quality is real or exists, i.e. is really a
quality of the thing perceived, and
(4) the water which seems cold to the one hand and
warm to the other, is (identically) one and the
same object.
These premisses together with the proposition describ-
ing the fact that the water is perceived as cold by one
hand and warm by the other, leads to an absurdity. Ao-
cording to (3) and (4) it follows from the perceived fact
that one and the same water is at the same time both cold
and warm, and this, according to ( 1) and ( 2. ) , is an
absurdity.
This version of the argument Berkeley applies also to
other sensible qualities, colour, extension, etc. in respect
to which a relativity of our perceptions can easily be es-
tablished. Now, it is clear that the mentioned absurdity
does not follow from the relativity of our perception of
sensible qualities if some of the [)remisses should be aban-
doned. If, e.g., the premiss (2.) does not hold true, i.e. if
cold and warm are compatible, like cold and sweet, there
is no absurdity in assuming that one and the same thing
has both characteristics at the same time. The premisses
(1) and (2.) seem to be generally accepted, and Berkeley
presupposes them as self-evident. The premiss (2.) is tao-
itly presupposed, the premiss (1) Philonous refers to in
the passage quoted. The status of the propositions (3)
and (4) is not equally clear. It is worth while to examine
them.
The premiss (3) states, that all perceived qualities are
real, really exist in the object perceived. Hylas explicitly
lays this down at the beginning of the first dialogue. He
says: "Whatever degree of heat we perceive by sense, we
may be sure the same exists in the object that occasions
it" (II 175) and again in respect to colour: "each visible
object has that colour which we see in it" (II 183). Every
sense-perception is a perception of something existing or
)I
34 2 Konrad Marc-Wogau
real; that is the opinion from which Hylas starts. This
opinion, sometimes called "naive realism", has, strangely
enough, often been ascribed to commonsense. Hylas is
indeed considered to represent the commonsense view.
But such expressions in common speech as "this thing is
in fact red, but appears pink to me just now", show clearly,
that commonsense distinguishes between real and appar-
ent sensible qualities. Hylas, when starting the discussion,
does not make this distinction. Not until he realizes the
absurdity shown up by the argument from illusion, is he
willing to abandon the premiss (3), and to introduce the
distinction between real and apparent sensible qualities.
He remarks about the red colours of the clouds: "I must
own, Philonous, these colours are not really in the clouds
as they seem to be at this distance. They are only appar-
ent colouIS" (II 184). This distinction is the fiISt attempt
to escape the consequences from the argument from illu-
sion. This is also the objection to the argument which is
most easily found. The argument is deprived its nerve by
the abandonment of the proposition (3) which is one of
its premisses.
But is this solution of the difficulty possible for Berke-
ley's part? There are two points which have to be noticed
here. (i) Berkeley can at most give another interpretation
of the proposition (3), but he cannot abandon the thesis
that what is perceived is real, as this thesis is one of the
basic principles of his theory. And (ii) Berkeley, when
referring to the argument from illusion-at least in some
passages-, intends to show the subjectivity not only of
some sensible qualities, but of all such qualities.
Before discussing these points, let us examine another
variant of the argument from illusion. In Pr. Berkeley
states about sensible qualities: "It is proved that sweet-
ness is not really in the sapid thing, because the thing re-
maining unaltered the sweetness is changed into bitter, as
in the case of a fever or otherwise vitiated palate" (§ 14,
II 47). In the fiISt dialogue Philonous points to the fact
that the perceived colouIS change or disappear entirely,
when a change takes place in my eye or when the distance
to the thing perceived alters without any alteration in the
Argument from Illusion 343
thing itself (II 18; f.). When he concludes that the per-
ceived colours do not inhere in external things, he bases
his opinion on the following argumentation: "in case col-
ours were real properties or affections inherent in the ex-
ternal bodies, they could admit of no altemtion, without
some change wrought in the very bodies themselves" (II
18;). We can take this proposition:
( ; ) if a quality inheres ilJ the object, the change of the
quality involves the change of the object,
as a premiss of the argument.
The proposition (;) is introduced by Berkeley as some-
thing self-evident; it seems to be meant as an analytic
statement the truth of which follows from the meaning of
the inherence of a quality in an object. Only if the object
changes, with a change of the quality ascribed to it, is it
correct to say that the quality inheres in the object. Con-
sidered as a premiss, the proposition ( ;) replaces the
premisses (1) and (2) of the first version of the argument.
It replaces ( 2 ), as the change of a quality means the
change of one quality to another which is incompatible
with the first. The first version of the argument covered
the cases in which two incompatible qualities were per-
ceived simultaneously in the object by one or several ob-
servers. This version needed, therefore, the premiss ( 1 )
which stated that two incompatible qualities cannot really
simultaneously inhere in the object. The second version
of the argument, on the other hand, covers the cases in
which a change of a quality, i.e. a succession of two in-
compatible qualities, is observed by one or severnl observ-
ers. Here the premiss (I) has no function. It is replaced
by (; ). The proposition ( ; ) and the abovementioned
premisses {3} and (4) together with the fact that sensible
qualities which are perceived in an object change, whilst
the object remains unchanged, lead to a contmdiction. If
(3) and (4) hold true, the object in this situation ought
to, but really does not, change.
To avoid this contradiction one needs only to question
one of the premisses. The easiest solution of the difficulty
seems also here to be the abandonment of premiss (3),
344 Konrad Marc-\Vogau
that all qualities perceived in the object really are in the
object. Some of them at least must be apparent or sub-
jective. This is also the solution to which Hylas resorts in
the passage quoted above. But can Berkeley accept this
solution? It is worth while to examine his own view in re-
spect to the argument in question.
In § 15 of Pr. Berkeley correctly points out what can
be inferred from the given premisses. In respect to the
different versions of the argument from illusion, "which
are thought manifestly to prove that colours and tastes
exist only in the mind", he urges, that "it must be con-
fessed this method of arguing does not so much prove that
there is no extension or colour in the outward object, as
that we do not know by sense which is the true extension
and colour of the object" (II 47). He remarks further in
the same paragraph that other arguments elaborated in
preceding paragraphs show that all qualities are in the
mind. The esse-est-peTcipi-principle, he says, cannot be
proved by the argument from illusion alone. Thus, accord-
ing to Berkeley's argumentation in § 15, the relativity of
our perceptions does not legitimate the idealistic conclu-
sion that all sensible qualities exist only in the mind.
What we can infer is only that not all qualities exist in the
object. But then, Berkeley seems to argue, the way is open
for the sceptical opinion: we have no means of knowing
which of the perceived qualities, if any, really inheres in
the object. In § 87 this sceptical view is referred to in con-
nection with the abovementioned second variant of the
argument from illusion. "Things remaining the same our
ideas vary, and which of them, or even whether any of
them at all represent the true quality really existing in the
thing, it is out of our reach to determine" (II 78). This
sceptical consequence, objectionable according to Berke-
ley, may be avoided, he thinks, by the idealistic point of
view, i.e. by taking all perceivable qualities to be in the
mind. In so far, but only in so far, the argument from
illusion can be said to be an evidence for idealism.
In D. the situation is not quite clear. There we find two
lines of thought mixed up in a puzzling way. One of them
(a) represents the method of arguing, rejected by Berkeley
Argument from Illusion 345
in § 15 of Pr.; the other (b) corresponds to Berkeley's
view in this paragraph. (a) On the one hand the argument
from illusion seems to be used by Philonous as an argu·
ment for the esse-est-percipi-principle. Having enumerated
different examples of the relativity of colour-perception,
Philonous sums up: "From all which, should it not seem
to follow, that all colours are equally apparent, and that
none of those which we perceive are really inherent in any
outward object?" (II 185). A few pages later he asks:
"Was it not admitted as a good argument, that neither
heat nor cold was in the water, because it seemed wann
to one hand and cold to the other?" (II 189). Thus, Berke·
ley here finds quite correct the way of reasoning which he
condemned in Pr. He draws the universal conclusion that
none of the perceived qualities is in the object, although
only the conclusion that not all of them are in the object
follows from the argument.
Was it a logical blunder or is Philonous' argumentation
meant as an argumentum ad hominem? It is hardly pog..
sible and not very important to decide this. Of greater
importance is the fact that this line of thought in D. is
mixed up with another. (b) The argument from illusion
leads Hylas, as we have seen, to distinguish between real
and apparent qualities, or, in other words, to give up the
premiss (3). But Philonous is not satisfied with this re·
suIt. He presses Hylas: There are no internal differences
between real and apparent qualities and thus there exists
no possibility to know which of the perceived colours is
real. Having referred to the second variant of the argument
from illusion, Philonous asks: "And now tell me, whether
you are still of opinion, that every body has its true, real
colours inhering in it", and adds: "and if you think it has,
I would fain know farther from you, what certain distance
and position of the object, what peculiar texture and for·
mation of the eye, what degree or kind of light is necessary
for ascertaining that true colour, and distinguishing it
from apparent ones" (II 186). He means to say that there
is no possibility of distinguishing them. This impossibility
gives rise to the sceptical view. TIle sceptical view, this
terrible philosophical theory, must be avoided, and it can
346 Konrad Marc-Wogau
be avoided by supposing all qualities to be apparent. This
is obviously the same argumentation as the before-
mentioned in Pr. Berkeley stresses in D., that, perhaps, the
strongest reason for the adoption of idealism is the scepti-
cal consequence of the alternative view. If an external ob-
ject is to be supposed, he says, "the objections from the
change of colours in a pigeon's neck, or the appearances
of a broken oar in the water" (i.e. the variants of the argu-
ment from illusion) "must be allowed to have weight"
(II 258). The objection has weight, Philonous seems to
mean, as far as it shows that on this supposition we are
driven to a sceptical consequence which can be avoided
only by the idealistic supposition that there are no ex-
ternal objects.
According to this way of arguing, stressed both in Pr.
and in D., a solution of the absurdity pointed out in the
argument from illusion consists in abandoning the premiss
( 3) by distinguishing between qualities which are real and
qualities which are apparent or mind-dependent. The ar-
gument from illusion as such does not justify the idealistic
thesis that all perceived qualities are mind-dependent.
This conclusion is reached by additional considerations.
From the standpoint of Berkeley's idealism there lies, how-
ever, a difficulty in this argumentation which makes the
interpretation of Berkeley's utterances much more compli-
cated. The difficulty is not discussed by Berkeley himself.
In its examination we must take into consideration some
implications of Berkeley's utterances, not clearly noticed
or deliberated by himself.
The passage of the first dialogue, where Hylas distin-
guishes between real and apparent sensible qualities in
order to solve the difficulty pointed out by the argument
from illusion, leaves at the first glance the impression that
this is, according to Berkeley, a correct solution of the dif-
ficulty. If the premiss (3) is abandoned, the absurdity of
two incompatible perceived qualities both simultaneously
inhering in the same object is solved. It is, however, clear
that Berkeley cannot accept this solution of the difficulty.
The premiss (3) is indeed one of the comer-stones of his
philosophy. It is the sensationalistic premiss that our per-
Argument from Illusion 347
ceptions are indubitable, and that what we perceive by
our senses is real. Berkeley admittedly distinguishes be-
tween two senses of the statement (3) that the perceived
quality is real: (31) the quality is real in the sense that it
is in (inheres in) an external object, and (32) the quality
is real in the sense that it is perceived by, or is in, a mind,
and he denies the reality of the sensible qualities in the
first sense. While Hylas clearly abandons the premiss (3),
and distinguishes between qualities which really inhere in
the object and apparent qualities, which are not real in
this sense, Berkeley is of the opinion that all qualities are
real in the same sense, and that none of them inheres in
an external object. He thus only gives another interpreta-
tion of the proposition (3); he understands it in the sense
( 32) instead of the sense (31)' All ideas are real as far as
they exist in the mind. If one wants to say that they in-
here in an object, this might, according to Berkeley, be
understood as a statement that they are included in the
set of ideas or sensible qualities which constitute what we
call an object.
We now can put the question: can the absurdity,
pointed out by the argument from illusion, be avoided by
interpreting the premiss (3) as (32)'7 This surely is not
the case. The same absurdity follows also from the prem-
isses (1), (2), [or (5)], (4) and (32), i.e. when the step
is taken from Hylas' realistic point of view to the idealistic
one of Philonous. If the same water is perceived by me as
cold and as warm at the same time, and if both perceiyed
qualities are real, a difficulty arises, even if the reality of
the qualities means that they are ideas in my mind, both
constituting the same thing. The interpretation of the
reality of the qualities and of the thing as existence in a
mind has no bearing upon the argument from illusion.
Now, a possibility to solve the difficulty without aban-
doning the premiss (3), whether interpreted as (31) or as
(32), is to give up the premiss (4) that the object per-
ceived in different perceptions is not identically the same
object. It seems to me that this is the solution to which
Berkeley actually resorts, though his line of thought is not
quite clear in this respect. It must be observed that if the
348 Konrad Marc-Wogau
premiss (4) is abandoned, i.e. if it is supposed that the
water perceived as cold and the water perceived as warm
is not identically the same water, the absurdity pointed
out by the argument from illusion disappears, no matter
which interpretation is given to the proposition (3). It
disappears in other words both on Hylas' original and on
Philonous' standpoint. On the other hand the difficulties
of defining the meaning of the expression "one and the
same", which arise when the proposition (4) is aban-
do"ed are the same also on these different standpoints.
Let us ask what Berkeley means when he speaks about
"one and the same thing". First it can be observed that
Berkeley supposes that the individual mind always is "one
and the same"; it is a substance and not a set of states
which, perhaps, are like each other, but have no persisting
unity. As we shall see in a moment, Berkeley criticizes
what he calls "the abstracted notion of identity", but he
nevertheless obviously supposes that the expression "one
and the same", when applied to the mind, has exactly the
sense of numerical identity which philosophers have usu-
ally attached to this expression. The notion of numerical
identity is thus not unknown to Berkeley. It is presup-
posed also in connection with the argument from illusion.
The words "one and the same" in the proposition (1)
must be understood as "identically one and the same", for
this proposition to be true or self-evident.
Thus, it seems to be quite sensible to ask, whether two
persons, who are said to perceive one and the same thing,
have, from Berkeley's point of view, two different ideas
which are very similar, but two and not one idea. It is
however impossible to find in Berkeley's text a clear an-
swer to this question. Moreover, this lack of clarity seems
to be due to a haziness of Berkeley's notion of the idea.
On the one hand the relation to one particular perceiving
mind, on the other hand only the relation to a mind in
general seems, according to Berkeley, to be essential to an
idea. There is some reason to suppose that Berkeley first
supported the former doctrine, but gradually and without
realizing all the consequences of this change, shifted his
Argument from Illusion 349
standpoint and adopted the latter point of view. If the re-
lation to one particular mind (Ml) is essential to an idea
(i), the assumption must obviously be wrong that the
same idea (i) can be perceived also by another mind
(M 2 ). The relation to Ml being essential to the idea i,
everything which lacks this relation to Ml is not i. Thus,
the idea i ceases to exist as soon as Ml ceases to perceive
it. Now, when two persons (Ml and M 2 ) perceive the
same table it is always possible that one of them shuts his
eyes; his idea then ceases to exist, whilst the other's idea
persists. What Ml and M2 perceive is thus not identically
one and the same idea, but two ideas which are similar or
exactly alike. This consequence does, of course, not follow
if the relation to a mind in general and not to one particu-
lar mind is held to be essential to the idea.
At the end of the third dialogue the question is dis-
cussed, whether, from Berkeley's standpoint, two persons
can see the same thing. If it is so, that we "by our senses
perceive only the ideas existing in our minds", can then-
Bylas asks-"the same idea which is in my mind . . . be in
yours, or in any other mind?" "Does it not . . . follow
from your principles, that no two can see the same thing?"
Philonous answers that "it is certain . . . that different
persons may perceive the same thing" provided the term
"same thing" is not used in the sense of "an abstracted
notion of identity", which philosophers pretend to have,
but in the vulgar sense (II 247). And he continues:
"Let us suppose several men together, all endued
with the same faculties, and consequently affected in
like sort by their senses, and who had yet never known
the use of language; they would without question
agree in their perceptions. Though perhaps, when
they came to the use of speech, some regarding the
uniformness of what was perceived, might can it the
same thing; others especially regarding the diversity
of persons who perceived, might choose the denomi-
nation of different things. But who sees not that all
the dispute is about a word; to wit, whether what is
perceived by different persons, may yet have the ternl
same applied to it?" (II 247 f. ) •
JI.
350 Konrad Marc-Wogau
Berkeley thus seems to consider a mere question of ter-
minology whether or not the perceptions of two persons,
X and Y, of the table in my study ought to be called per-
ceptions of the same thing. What X perceives may be
exactly alike what Y perceives, but a difference neverthe-
less exists in so far as the table is in the one case per-
ceived by X. in the other by Y. As an answer to Hylas'
question, this is, however, quite unsatisfactory. The ques-
tion put by Hylas, when he asks, whether X and Y per-
ceive one idea or two similar ideas, has to be decided in
order to explain what the statement means that X and Y
"agree in their perceptions". Without such an explanation
also the meaning of the term "idea" remains obscure. The
term "idea" being a technical term proposed by Berkeley,
the question may be considered a question of terminology,
i.e. as the question how to use the terms "one idea" and
"two similar ideas". By leaving this question of terminology
undecided, Berkeley indeed leaves obscure also the sense
of his term "idea". If one has to pay attention to the dif-
ference between X and Y, i.e. if the relation to the par-
ticular perceiving mind is essential to the idea, X's idea
and Y's idea must be called two different ideas, but if the
difference of the perceiving minds is not essential to the
idea, X and Y may be said to have one and the same idea.
These two alternatives represent not only two different
terminologies, but also two different lines of thought.
In some passages Berkeley expresses himself as if he
favoured the first line of thought. Thus he says in Pro §
140: "blueness or heat by me perceived" has resemblance
"to those ideas perceived by another" (II 105). On the
other hand there are many utterances in favour of the
opinion that not the relation to a particular mind but
only the relation to a mind in general is essential to an
idea. Two persons, perceiving the table in my study, per-
ceive, according to this doctrine, one and the same idea,
and not two similar ideas. If I cease to perceive the table,
the table, i.e. the idea which I perceived, does not cease
to exist. Berkeley set forth in Pro § 48: "It does npt ..•
follow from the foregoing principles, that bodies are an-
nihilated and created every moment, or exist not at all dur-
Argument from Illusion 35 1
ing the intervall between our perception of them". The
table, when not perceived by me, exists, according to
Berkeley, as perceived by another mind. Here the interpre-
tation that one idea (or one bundle of ideas=the table) is
perceived by different minds is, at the first glance at least,
the most natural. Of course, also another interpretation
may be given here. The statement that my idea is not
annihilated when not longer perceived by me could be
said to have the following metaphorical sense: when I
cease to perceive the table, an idea, similar to my former
idea while I perceived the table, now exists in another
mind. Although this interpretation sounds rather far-
fetched, it seems to follow from some theories in Berkeley
that we must resort to an interpretation of this kind in
order to avoid some obvious contradictions. If the idea
perceived by Ml is exactly alike to the idea perceived by
M 2, then it is plausible, as pointed out by Berkeley, to
speak of one idea perceived by them both. But in the case
of the perceptions of Ml and M2 not being exactly alike,
it is no longer plausible to say that one and the same idea
is perceived by both. In this case we must say, that they.
have two similar ideas. Now, Berkeley means that the table
in my study continues to exist, even when no finite mind
is in my study; it exists as perceived by God. It is, how-
ever, clear that the table perceived by God cannot be
exactly alike the table perceived by me or another finite
mind, God's perception being of a different kind than
mine (cf. II 240 f.). In this case it seems necessary to
interpret the statement that the table continues to exist
as perceived by God as meaning that an idea continues to
exist which is similar, but not exactly alike my idea of the
table. Berkeley sometimes uses the terms "ectype" and
"archetype" in order to characterize the relation between
my and God's idea of a thing. It is clear that the ectype
and the archetype are not exactly alike. Thus, the state-
ment that I and God see the same table cannot be under-
stood as asserting that both perceive identically one and
the same idea.
It follows from what has been said that, according to
Berkeley, the use of the word "one and the same" as ap-
352 Konrad Marc-Wogau
plied to ideas does not presuppose that the ideas are
numerically 'identical, neither does it presuppose, that
they are exactly alike. There is therefore nothing contra-
dictory in the assertion that two ideas, which are not
exactly alike, as the idea of cold water and the idea of
warm water, are "the same" idea or "one and the same"
water.
If in the proposition (4) the term "one and the same"
is taken in this wider sense which allows us to say that the
water perceived as cold by the one hand and as warm by
the other is the same water, in spite of the supposition
that both perceived qualities are real, the absurdity
pointed out by the argument from illusion does not arise.
The expression "the same water" means then two different
bundles of ideas which can be called "the same thing" in
the wider sense, because they have many important char-
acteristics (e.g. position in space) in common. This modi-
fication of the premiss ( 4) gives a solution of the diffi-
culty which, as far as I can see, is the only solution
acceptable from Berkeley's point of view.
 BERKELEY'S LIKENESS PRINCIPLE
PHILLIP D. CUMMINS

In both the Principles of Human Knowledge and the

Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, Berkeley
presents the representationalist with a dilemma which ex-
presses his fundamental objection to that theory. In the
Principles (Section 8), he writes:
But, say you, though the ideas themselves do not exist
without the mind, yet there may be things like them,
whereof they are copies or resemblances, which things
exist without the mind in an unthinking substance. I
answer, an idea can be like nothing but an idea; a
colour or figure can be like nothing but another col-
our or figure. If we look but ever so little into our
own thoughts, we shall find it impossible for us to
conceive a likeness except only between our ideas.
Again, I ask whether those supposed originals or ex-
ternal things, of which our ideas are the pictures or
representations, be themselves perceivable or no? If
they are, then they are ideas and we have gained our
point; but if you say they are not, I appeal to anyone
whether it be sense to assert a colour is like something
which is invisible; hard or soft, like something which
is intangible; and so of the rest.1 [Italics mine]
From the Journal of the History of Philosophy, Vol. 4 (1966).
Reprinted, with minor corrections, by permission of the author
and the Journal of the History of Philosophy.
1 See also Section 57 and, for passages from the Three DiIl-
logues, Berkeley, The Works of George Berkeley, A. A. Luce and
T. E. Jessop, eds. (Edinburgh: Nelson and Sons, 1949), II,
189-<)0 and 206. (Hereafter, the Luce-Jessop edition will be re-
ferred to as Works.) Compare, too, entry B378 of the Philo-
sophical Commentaries, in Works, I, 45.
354 PhiUip D. Cummins
The strength of this argument is that if it is conclusive,
it establishes the impossibility of representationalism, i.e.
the view that ideas represent or make known imperceptible
material objects. (Note the position under attack is that
"there may be things" of which ideas are copies.) It is not
merely a matter of exhibiting the skeptical consequences
which beset the theory.
Berkeley attacks the very heart of representationalism.
It is the claim that in addition to sensory objects2 (ideas),
there are unperceived and unperceivable entities which in
some manner resemble sensible objects. Berkeley intends
to show there can be no such resembling entities. He be-
gins, with a pair of alternatives: the entities represented by
sensible objects are either perceived by some mind or not.
If they are perceived, then the representationalist: (a)
has retracted his original claim that they are unperceived
and unperceivable; and (b) must acknowledge that the
represented entities are ideas which cannot exist unper-
ceived. What is perceived is an idea. If, on the other hand,
the representationalist contends that the entities repre-
sented by sensory objects are unperceived, then he is hold-
ing that unperceived entities and (perceived) sensory ob-
jects correspond to one another. This claim, Berkeley
suggests, is contradictory or meaningless. The alleged cor-
respondence rests upon a supposed resemblance or likeness
between a perceived object and an unperceived object, but
there can be no resemblance between these two. The
"only thing like an idea is an idea." If an unperceived ob-
ject resembles a perceived object (an idea which must be
perceived), then it is itself an idea and is perceived. The
representationalist's claim is self-refuting. And, Berkeley
maintains, if it is claimed that an idea can be like or re-
semble a non-idea, the term, "resemble," is without mean-
ing. Berkeley'S argument, then, is that on the first alterna-
tive, the representationalist abandons his theory or asserts
a contradiction, while on the second, he speaks in a
meaningless or contradictory fashion.
2 I shall use sensory object and presented object as equivalent
expressions.
Berkeley's Likeness Principle 355
It seems clear that a serious representationalist would
accept the second alternative and try to avoid Berkeley's
conclusion. Hence, the principle that the only thing like
an idea is an idea (hereafter, the Likeness Principle), is
the critical premise in the argument. Furthermore, since
the argument against representationalism is crucial for
Berkeley's rejection of material substances, the Likeness
Principle is ~ fundamental element of his immaterialism.8
It might seem that even more fundamental to Berkeley's
philosophy is the term "idea." He seems to argue as fol-
lows: All the things we perceive are ideas. Ideas cannot
exist unperceived. The only thing like an idea is an idea.
Therefore, anything we perceive or anything like what we
perceive cannot exist unperceived. 4 The trouble with this
line of reasoning is that the use of "idea" for what we per-
ceive seems to be a question-begging characterization de-
signed to secure what is not otherwise self-evident, namely,
the claim that no perceived entities can occur unperceived.
What I want to show is that the word "idea" need not
occur in Berkeley's attack on material substance. First, I
shall explicate the Likeness Principle as a shorthand for
three claims, two of which are relatively non-controversial
and virtually axiomatic for Berkeley. The other is con-
troversial, but if true it justifies Berkeley's use of "idea."
3 Colin Turbayne, in his introduction to the Library of Lib-
eral Arts edition of the Three Dialogues (New York: Bobbs-
Merrill, 1954), pp. xii-xviii, suggests that the argument against
representationalism is the strongest weapon Berkeley has for at-
tacking belief in material substances and indicates the importance
of the Likeness Principle. Note, though, that the representational-
ist could retreat to the view that th°ere are material substances,
but that presented or sensory objects do not represent them.
Hence, despite Turbayne's claim, to refute representationalism is
not to refute the claim that there are material substances.
4 For instance, in Sections 1-4 of the Principles, Berkeley as-
serts that the immediate objects of sensation are ideas, then con-
cludes they cannot exist except in relation to minds. The men-
talistic aura of "idea" seems to carry the argument. See, too,
Jessop's "Editor's Introduction" to the Principles, in Works, II,
8-11, where he states that Berkeley takes it as axiomatic that all
known non-minds cannot occur unperceived. The axiom seems to
be one one could easily reject.
356 Phillip D. Cummins
Then I shall note that the third claim is defended in
Berkeley's Three Dialogues. Finally, I shall indicate that
Berkeley's argument against representationalism is an ex-
tension of his main argument against material substance.
The Likeness Principle is a shorthand formulation of
the following claims: A, all qualities which are determi-
nates of the same determinable have the same ontological
status; B, a necessary condition of resemblance between
two entities is that they are or possess qualities which are
determinates of the same determinable; C, none of the
qualities we immediately perceive (hereafter termed "sen-
sible qualities") can occur unperceived. The refutation of
representationalism requires all three; the proof of the im-
possibility of material substance, as traditionally formu-
lated, rests upon A and C.
Some terminological points. Quality is used in a quite
common way for the shade of color of a ball, the figure or
shape of a table, and so on. Next, the distinction between
determinates and detcrminables. There are numerous
shades of color. The shades are determinates of the de-
terminable, color. The idea expressed by A is one ac-
cepted by anyone engaged in metaphysics or ontology. If a
philosopher shows that the quality we call red is a uni-
versal (by analyzing an example) he does not need to of-
fer any arguments for blue being a universal. Again, if one
establishes that one shade of color is mind-dependent, the
same holds for all other shades. Philosophers argue about
the ontological status of colors and sounds, not about the
status of specific shades and tones.
The thesis concerning resemblance, B, requires more
discussion because several distinctions must be drawn.
First, B states no more than a necessary condition of saying
two things stand in the relation of resemblance. Berkeley's
further criteria can safely be ignored. Second, Berkeley
distinguishes between objects ( complexes) and quali-
ties (simples) in dealing with ~ensory objects. With re-
gard to complexes, resemblance between two things re-
quires that a constituent of one be a determinate of the
same determinable as some constituent of the othey. To
illustrate, suppose one thing is a colored spot and a second
Berkeley's Likeness Principle 357
is a tone. Considered in isolation, so that we are not con-
cerned with their respective ranks or places in ranges of
colors or sounds, since they have no specific phenomenal
qualities which are determinates of the same determi-
nable, they cannot resemble. With respect to simples,
where resemblance cannot be based upon constituents,
thesis B requires that two simples which resemble be de-
terminates of the same determinable. 5 (Berkeley might
say only complexes resemble. I do not deny it. I merely
want to indicate how B would be formulated to cover the
case of simples. Note, too, that B does not predetermine
the issue of whether Berkeley's simple qualities are uni-
versal or particular.) In both the case of objects (com-
plexes) and that of constituent qualities (simples), B
states a minimum requirement for resemblance.
To support this explication textually, I note that though
Berkeley sometimes uses "idea" in discussing resemblance,
he also seems to have in mind shades of color, tones, and
the like. A color patch (assume its constituents are a shade,
a size, and a shape) cannot resemble what has no color,
no size, and no shape. So in Section 8 we find phrases
like, ". . . a colour or figure can be like nothing but an-
other colour or. figure," and ". . . I appeal to anyone
whether it be sense to assert a colour is like something
which is invisible; hard or soft, like something which is in-
tangible . . ."6 It is not being claimed that something
mental cannot resemble something non-mental, where
"mental" is left vague, as "the only thing like an idea is an
idea" suggests. Rather, Berkeley's claim is a color cannot
be like a non-color, a shape cannot be like a non-shape and
a sound cannot be like a non-sound. In discussing repre-
sentationalism, then, he merely applies a general thesis
about resemblance to a particular case.
So far, we have considered two elements of the Like-
ness Principle which, taken in tandem, establish that for
one thing to resemble another, it must have a quality
which has the same ontological status as some quality of
5 Works, I, 45, especially propositions 17.-14'
6 Cf. Works, II, 206.
358 Phillip D. Cummins
the other. Applying this to representationalism, which is
at least the claim that presented entities resemble other
entities which are not perceivable, we see that a require-
ment of the theory (given A and B) is that presented
entities and those they· allegedly resemble have the same
ontological status. This sets the stage for the third thesis,
claim C, that what is presented cannot occur unperceived.
Now if what is presented is thought to represent (re-
semble) something which is not perceived, a contradiction
results. 'What is not presented, i.e. is unperceived, cannot
occur unperceived, if it resembles what is presented, be-
cause two things which resemble have the same ontologi-
cal status and presented things cannot occur unperceived.
So the entities which are allegedly represented by sensory
objects are both perceived and unperceived. There can be
no such represented entities. If it is claimed that the rep-
resented entity can occur unperceived, then it has a dif-
ferent ontological status from the presented entity. But
then none of its qualities can be determinates of the same
determinable as any quality of the presented entity, so
how can it resemble the presented entity and be repre-
sented by it? If A, B, and C hold, they effectively pre-
clude the possibility of representationalism.
Thesis C has been formulated in two ways, once in
terms of presented objects and once in terms of the quali-
ties immediately perceived. The blur is unimportant be-
cause Berkeley holds that only various qualities (colors,
odors, sounds, shapes, and the like) are presented or im-
mediately perceived. (He holds there are entities which
are objects of attention or consciousness and these consist
of qualities, like the color red or blue, which can be identi-
fied without reference to future objects of awareness. Such
things, he says, are immediately perceived.) 7 A patch of
color or a sound is a simple quality or a collection of sim-
ple qualities.s The important thing to notice is that a
shade of color or a shape, not "ideas" of the shade or shape,
7Works, II, 174-'75, 18~ and 203-4.
8 Works, II, "II, 175 and 249. See H. M. Braclcen, "Berkeley
and Malebranche on Ideas," The Modem Schoolman, SLI
(1963), 1-15·
Berkeley's LikeneSB Principle 359
are immediate objects of awareness." Presented shades of
color and the rest are called "ideas" because of the (al-
leged) fact that they cannot occur except in relation to a
mind which perceives them. 10 In our explication of the
Likeness Principle, thesis C states just this claim.
In the Principles Berkeley does not argue for thesis C;
it is assumed throughout. But in the Three Dialogues he
"This lesson, one of the foundations of their "realistic" inter-
pretation of Berkeley, Luce and Jessop have tried to instill. See,
for instance, Luce, Berkeley's Immaterialism, (London: Nelson
and Sons, 194~), pp. 40-47. Compare R. H. Popkin, "The New
Realism of BiShop Berkeley," in George Berkeley, eds. S. C.
Pepper, K. Aschenbrenner, and B. Mates (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1957), pp. 1-10.
10 In both the Principles, Sections 38-39, and the Three Dia-
logues, Berkeley says that this is why he uses "idea" to refer to
what is given perceptually. Compare Works, II, 56-57, 235-36
and 250-51. Richard Watson, in his ''The Breakdown of Car-
tesian MetaphysiCS," Journal of the History of Philosophy, I
(1963), 177~7, construes the Likeness Principle differently. He
lists a set of Cartesian principles, then claims that Simon Fou-
cher, a French sceptic, and, subsequently, Berkeley found the set
inconsistent. The principles in question are: (a) Like knows like,
or what knows or makes known another thing must have the
same attribute as the other; (b) Minds (ideas) fall under differ-
ent attributes from bodies; and (c) Minds (ideas) know (make
known) bodies. Foucher's point was that the Cartesians were
committed to (a) and (b), so could not maintain (c). Watson,
then, implies that for Berkeley ideas and bodies fall under differ-
ent attnlmtes-ideas are mental or unextended, bodies are ex-
tended, so that one cannot resemble (and represent) the other.
The interpretation is incorrect. In the first place, whereas Fou-
cher was claiming that the Cartesians could not hold extended
things are known, Berkeley was not, merely arguing ad hominem.
He was prepared to assert there are no unperceived extended sub-
stances. Second, for Berkeley a perceiver is directly aware of a
color or a size or shape. (Actually, size is not perceived, but it
makes no difference here.) ExterISion is a sensible quality. As
such, according to Berkeley, it is an idea. Suppose we ask, fol-
lowing Watson's schema, under what attribute extension should
be classed. The question really makes no sense. Extension (which
differs in kind from thought) is directly known by the perceiving
mind and is considered dependent upon the mind. It is, however,
unlike mind. So Berkeley rejects (a). To put it differently, there
is no contrast between extension and idea, but, rather, a contrast
between extension and minds. See Richard Watson, op. cit.,
181-84 and 193~5, and Colin Turbayne, op. cit., p. xv.
260 PhiUip D. Cummins
attempts to establish it. After they have mutually agreed
that only sensible qualities or collections of them are im-
mediately perceived, Philonous and Hylas pose the ques-
tion upon which their disagreement turns: Doth the real-
ity of sensible things consist in being perceived? or is it
something distinct from their being perceived, and that
bears no relation to the mind?l1 Hylas holds the reality of
sensible things consists in their being able to occur un-
perceived and, subsequently, he is forced to deny the re-
ality of sensible things.12 Philonous tries to show that
none of the determinate qualities we immediately per-
ceive. be they primary or seconda~·. can occur unper-
ceived. 1s To my knowledge at no point does the argument
that a certain kind of quality must be perceived to exist
tum on its being typed as an idea.!' Which is to say,
Berkeley systematically uses "idea" for sensible qualities
only after he has shown that thesis C holds for them.
It is often held that Berkeley's immaterialism is para-
sitic upon (Lockian) representationalism, but a merit of
my explication of Berkeley's Likeness Principle is that his
11 Works, II, 175.
12 Consider the following exchange, Works, II, 175: "Pmx.o-
NOUS: I speak with regard to sensible things only: and of these I
ask, whether by their real existence you mean a subsistence ex-
terior to the mind, and distinct from their being perceived.
HyLAS: I mean a real absolute being, distinct from, and without
any relation to their being perceived. PBILONOUS: Heat, there-
fore, if it be allowed a real being, must exist without the mind.
HYLAs: It must." Compare Works, II, 194 and 206-7.
13 Works, II, 175~4. Note that the conclusion is always
stated in terms of the inability of the quality in question to occur
unperceived, apart from the mind or without the mind: pain
(177, 179), tastes (ISO), odors (lSI), sounds (lS3), colors
(lS7), extension (IS<)-i}O), all primaI}' qualities (191). The
point is stated in summaI}' on p. 194. After several attempts by
Hylas to elude the conclusion, the point is considered settled
(194~7). Subsequently, arguments against representationalism
and material substances are developed. See G. Warnock, Berkeley
(London: Penguin, 1953), pp. 150-51.
14 It should be noted that Berkeley tries to identify heat,
tastes and odors with pleasures and pains, which Hylas grants
are mind.dependent sensations. But the identification is the key
element in tne argument.
Berkeley's Likeness Principle 361
arguments against representationalism and, as we shall
see, unperceived material substances, are not dependent
upon any theory of ideas. We perceive colors, sounds,
odors, and various tactile qualities, not "ideas" of colors,
sounds, and the rest. Berkeley claims a careful analysis of
what actually is presented to consciousness will show col-
ors and the rest can occur only in relation to a perceiving
mind. 15 Given thesis C, thesis A precludes the occurrence
of any determinate of color, shape, or sound unperceived.
Notice that the occurrence of any such determinates un-
perceived by any given mind is not forbidden, only the
possibility of their existing independently of all minds.
Descartes, Locke, Gassendi, and most, if not all, of the
philosophers against whom Berkeley argued defined ma-
terial substance as an extended, solid, unthinking entity.16
Theses A and C together show that such an entity cannot
exist. As defined, material substance is as self-contradictory
as a square circle. We experience determinates of size,
shape, and solidity, so determinates of these cannot occur
except in relation to a perceiving mind. But material sub-
stance, which has determinates of these determinables, is
not a thinking thing and can, by definition, occur unper-
ceived. Material substance, as defined, has incompatible
properties,l7
11> A disclaimer: I am not asserting that Berkeley succeeds in
establishing C. The pain·heat identification argument, if sound,
would establish C for the qualities in question, but the percep-
tual variations argument (e.g. the lukewarm water case) is at best
grounds for a phenomenalistic analysis of, for example, "The
same water seemed hot to my left hand, cold to my right." The
conclusion Berkeley draws that sensible qualities cannot occur un-
perceived requires several additional assumptions. See my "Per-
ceptual Relativity and Ideas in the Mind," Philosophy and Phe-
nomenological Research, XXIV (1963), 202-14, Watson, 01'.
cit., 193-95, and E. B. Allaire, "Berkeley's Idealism," TheorUt,
XXIX (1963), 229-4.4 (reprinted in Essays in Ontology: [The
Hague: Nijhoff, 1963j, pp. 92-1°5).
16 Descartes, of course, did not include solidity· as a defining
property, but held whatever is extended is solid. Hence, no
vacuum.
17 See Sections 7-9, 15, 17, 67, 73, and 78 in the Principles,
in Works, II, 43-45, 47-48, 70, and 72-74. For similar pas-
sages in the Three Dialogues, see Works, II, 20~ and 216-17.
362 PhWifJ D. Cummins
In the second of the Three Dialogues, where Hylas
wants to introduce material substance as an unperceived
entity specifically different from minds, his problem is that
if he offers any description of it, he will ascn"be to material
substance qualities which previously have been judged
mind-dependent. If, on the other hand, he wants to make
his claim that matter may exist meaningful, he must in
some way define or characterize it. That lands him in trou-
ble. No wonder he says in exasperation, "Oh Philonousl
now you think you have entangled me; for if I say it (mat-
ter) exists in place, then you will infer that it exists in the
mind, since it is agreed, that place or extension exists only
in the mind."18 He finally opts for saying he believes
matter exists even though he can assign no positive mean-
ing to the term. Philonous points out that no one can
show the impossibility of matter if the word is given no
definite sense but adds,
Where there is not so much as the most inadequate
or faint idea pretended to: I will not indeed thence
conclude against the reality of any notion or existence
of anything; but my inference shall be, that you mean
nothing at aD: that you employ words to no manner
of purpose without any design or signification what-
soever. And I leave it to you to consider how mere
jargon should be treated.10
Philonous challenges Hylas to specify a meaning of "ma-
terial substance." If a meaning is given, he tries to show it
involves determinables, determinates of which have been
shown to be incapable of unperceived existence, so that
material substances cannot in fact occur unperceived.20
The Likeness Principle has been analyzed as a combina-
tion of three theses, two of which (A and B) are relatively
non-controversial. The third, that the determinate quali-
18 Works, II, 2.2.2.. Cf. the bottom of 2.60.
19 Works, II, 2.2. 3. Note the context, 2.2.2.-2.6.
20 I might add here that one sense of "abstract ideas" which
Berkeley rejects is of unspecified or undetermined determinables.
He claims that no such things exist. See Works, II, 28-30,45-46
and 192-<J3. He thereby precludes the claim that though de-
terminates cannot occur unperceived, determiDables can.
Berkeley's Likeness Principle 363
ties we immediately perceive cannot occur unperceived,
Berkeley'S idealistic premise, is highly controversial. A and
C together secure the impossibility of material substance,
as defined within the classical tradition. The three theses
combine to refute representationalism. By thus explicat-
ing the Likeness Principle, we have succeeded in showing
that Berkeley's arguments do not depend upon his use of
the term "idea." And thereby we can see the truth of
Berkeley's claim that the issue between the materialists
and him is not a verbal one. 21
21 Nor is it a matter of the linguistic analysis of "appears'"
and related words. See Works, II, 239-40 and especially 261-62.
 THE PLACE OF GOD IN BERKELEY'S
PHILOSOPHY
J. D. MABBOTT

Berkeley is commonly regarded as an idealist whose

system is saved from subjectivism only by the advent of a
God more violently ex machina than the God of any other
philosopher. I hope to show that this accusation rests on a
misunderstanding of his central theory, a misunderstand-
ing which gives God a place both inconsistent with his
main premisses and useless in his system. I hope also to
display by quotation the real Berkeley, whose theory of
God's place and nature is directly supported by argument
and consistent with his premisses, and makes (with his
account of self) a system which, if it is less than a com-
pletely coherent philosophy, is more than an episcopal
assumption.
I shall first show how the usual conception of Berkeley's
God arose. Locke had shown that our ideas of colour,
taste and other secondary qualities depend on the per-
cipient, but he held that primary qualities (shape, size,
solidity, etc.) reside in the object just as we perceive them.
Berkeley applied Locke's arguments about colour against
shape and size, and showed that our ideas of the latter
qualities were also relative to the percipient. Thus aU my
ideas depend on my perceiving them. This raises the ob-
vious problem. "You ask me whether the books are in the
stu~y now, when no one is there to see them?"1 "Upon
From The Journal of Philosophical Studies (now Philosophy),
Vol. VI ( l<B 1 ). Reprinted by permission of the author and
Philosophy. [All references are to the Oxford Edition of Berke-
ley's Works (Ed. Campbell Fraser. 4 vols., 1901) C. = Com-
monplace Book. P. = Principles. D. = Dialogues.]
IC. i. 15.
The Place of God in Berlwley's Philosophy 365
shutting my eyes all the furniture in the room is reduced
to nothing, and barely upon opening them it is again cre-
ated."2 Berkeley first suggests two inadequate solutions.
"Whenever they [the books] are mentioned or discours'd
of they are imagin'd and thought on. Therefore you can
at no time ask me whether they exist or no, but by reason
of that very question they must necessarily exist."s Not
only perception but imagination (or conception) also con-
fers existence, and it is therefore impossible to conceive
something existing unconceived. He also suggests that
physical objects may have a hypothetical or potential exist-
ence, anticipating Mill's view that an object is a perma-
nent possibility of sensation. "The question whether the
earth moves or no amounts in reality to no more than this,
to wit, whether we have reason to conclude, from what
has been observed by astronomers, that if we were placed
in such and such circumstances, and such or such a posi-
tion, and distance both from the earth and sun, we should
perceive the former to move among the choir of the plan-
ets."4 Neither of these two solutions confer any real per-
manence or stability on the world of nature. "The trees
are in the park, i.e. whether I will or no, whether I imag-
ine anything about them or no. Let me but go thither and
open my eyes by day, and I shall not avoid seeing them."!;
If esse is percipi, objects when perceived by no finite spirit
must be kept in existence by God's perceiving them. "See-
ing that they . • . have an existence distinct from being
perceived by me, there must be some other Mind wherein
they exist. As sure, therefore, as. the sensible world really
exists, so sure is there an infinite, omnipresent Spirit who
contains and supports it."6 This completes the orthodox
account of Berkeley's view of the status of physical ob-
jects. The esse of ideas is percipi; the esse of spirit is
percipere. "From what has been said it is evident that
there is no other Substance than Spirit, or that which per-
2 P. § 45, i. 2.81. S C. i. 15. Cf. P. § 2.3. D. I, i. 411.
4 P. § 58, i. 2.90. Ii C. i. 65.
6 D. II, i. 42.4; Berkeley's italics. Cf. P. § 46.
366 1. D. Mabbott
ceives."1 "The question between me and the Materialists
is not whether things have a real existence out of the mind
of this or that person, but whether they have an absolute
existence, distinct from being perceived by God, and ex-
terior to all minds."8 The esse of physical objects is there-
fore their being perceived by God. It is clear that this
theory will save Berkeley from subjectivism, and it is to
Divine perception that his editor, in defending him on the
subjectivist chargF, constantly makes appeal. D Yet it is a
solution of the problem which excludes much of his most
valuable work and raises more difficulties than it solves.
The alternative theory can best be approached through
Berkeley's account of power or activity. We usually speak
as if conditions of physical objects were due to the activity
of other physical objects. But, in reducing physical objects
to ideas in the mind, Berkeley saw that this view of cause
could not stand. If the esse of ideas is />eTcifJi, "it follows
that there is nothing in them but what is perceived; but
whoever shall attend to his ideas, whether of sense or of
refiexicin, will not perceive in them any power or activ-
ity."10 Therefore "the very being of an idea implies pas-
sivity or inertness in it."10 Sometimes, however, I, know
that I have created my own ideas. When I imagine a ship,
I am aware of the image but also of the activity of my
self. Here perception differs from imagination; if I per-
ceive a ship, I have no such awareness of spiritual activity.
"It is that passive recognition of my own ideas that de-
nominates the mind perceiving-that being the very es-
sence of perception or that wherein perception consists."l1
Since I am aware that I do not create my own ideas of
perception, some other agent must produce them in me. "I
find I can excite ideas in my mind at pleasure. . . • This
making and unmaking of ideas doth very properly denomi-
nate the mind active. • • . But, whatever powers I may
have over my own thoughts, I find the ideas actually per-
ceived by Sense have not a like dependence on my will."12
1 P. § 7, i. 261. 8 D. III, i. 452.
II Cf. i. 50, n. 4, 258, n. 3, 259, n. 5, and passim.
10 P. § 25. i. 271.
11 C. i. 83. 12 P. II 28, 29; i. 272-3.
The Place of God in Berkeley's PhilosOPhy 367
The agent which produces them cannot be matter, for
"Doth not Matter, in the common current acceptation of
the word, signify an extended, solid, moveable, unthink-
ing, inactive substance7"18 This was indeed the account
of matter current in Berkeley's day. Subsequent theories
of atoms as centres of force, and the replacement of the
Indestructibility of Matter by the Conservation of Energy
as the basic principle of physics, left later scientists a way
out of Berkeley's dilemma which was closed to his con-
temporaries. Against them his argument was conclusive.
Since the agent affecting me when I perceive cannot be
matter, and since spirit can be active, the cause must be
spirit. "There is therefore some other Will or Spirit that
produces them."14 The nature of this Spirit can be de-
duced from its effects on me, from the character of my
ideas of sense. Its power is clear from the fact that, how-
ever I try, I cannot perceive things otheIWise than as I do.
"The ideas of Sense are more strong, lively, and distinct
than those of the Imagination; they have likewise a steadi-
ness, order, and coherence, and are not excited at random,
as those which are the effects of human wills often are, but
in a regular train or series-the admirable connexion
whereof sufficiently testifies the wisdom and benevolence
of its Author."lll It may be noted in passing that Berkeley
uses no arguments from theology to support his belief in
the existence of God, nor does he appeal to religious ex-
perience. He holds, indeed, that we have no immediate
intuition of God.16
From the argument so far several difficulties in the usual
account at once emerge. If mind is essentially active and
perceiving essentially passive the esse of mind cannot be
fJercifJere. At the one place where in the CommonfJlace
Book Berkeley says the esse of mind is fJercifJere he has
added later "or velIe, i.e. agere."17 I am most myself not
in perceiving but in willing or imagining. "This making or
unmaking of ideas doth very properly denominate the
18011.
• ,I. 429. 14 • P29,
I ·I. 273. l11PI·
• 30, I. 273.
16 C. i. SI. Cf. P. I 148. 17 C. i. 10.
368 1. D. Mabbott
mind active."18 God is Spirit, and to suppose that He
perceives would be to make Him the passive recipient of
ideas impressed on Him by some more powerful agency.
Volition and not perception is therefore our clue to the
nature of God. "The Spirit-the active thing-that which is
soul and God-is the Will alone."19 "Substance of a spirit
is that it acts," causes, wills, operates."20 Nor can the
esse of ideas be percipi. The esse of my own fancies is
that they are imagined, created by me; of my sense-data
that they are created in me by God. The esse of God's
ideas (if we find any reason to believe in them, which we
shall not) would be that they were imagined by Him, and
even this is made difficult by Berkeley'S view that imagina-
tion presupposes perception. "The having ideas is not the
same thing with perception. A man may have ideas when
he only imagines. But then this imagination presupposeth
perception."21
So we are led to a new conception of God, and of His
relation to the stable world which our senses reveal. Its
stability will now be due to the regularity and orderliness
of His activity, and not to His permanently perceiving it ..
"Nothing without corresponds to our primary ideas but
powers. Hence a direct and brief demonstration of an ac-
tive, powerful Being, distinct from us, on whom we de-
pend."22 The laws of nature are not modes of relation
between God's ideas, but "set rules, or established meth-
ods, wherein the Mind we depend on excites in us the
ideas of Sense."23 We learn that certain of our ideas regu-
larly accompany others. This concomitance is due to "the
Goodness and Wisdom of that Governing Spirit whose
Will constitutes the laws of nature.''24 The situation is
like that created by a "good resolution." If I resolve to
tidy up my papers regularly on Ember Days, what exists
permanently is a disposition of my will. What exists only
on Ember Days is the spatial pattern I call "tidy papers."
So the trees in the park are permanently represented only
by a "resolve" of the will of God such that as occasion
18 P. § 28, i. 273. 19 C. i. 41. 20 c. i. 53.
21 c.i. 28. Cf. i. 52. 22 C. i. 60.
28 P. § 30, i. 273. 24 P. § 32, i. 274.
The Place of God in Berkeley's PhilosoPhy 369
arises a spatial visual pattern (my idea of the trees) ap-
pears regularly in my mind. The physical world is thus
really a complicated "good resolution" of God's. Two fur-
ther illustrations may be adduced to show how a spatial
datum may be regular and reliable, but not itself perma-
nent. If I run my head into a brick wall, I see stars. The
stars are not permanently there; they are the regular prod-
uct of the meeting of my wayward steps with the perma-
nent wall. So the table I perceive has no permanent shape
or size; it is the regular product of the collision of my way-
ward activity with the permanent volition of God. Again,
a magnetic field is force in itself invisible, but such that
when iron filings are introduced into it they form regular,
visible patterns. The application is obvious. We noticed
above that one of Berkeley's inadequate solutions of his
main problem was to allow the physical world a hypo-
thetical or potential existence. This solution is now made
possible for us by our having some reality from which
the possibility is derived-the orderly volitional activity of
God. "Bodies, etc., do exist even when not perceived-
they being powers in the active being."25
This complete and coherent theory is much more en-
titled to be regarded as Berkeley's main position than that
previously sketched. It alone is consistent with his distinc-
tion between perception and imagination, with his view
that spirit is essentially active, and with his account of the
relation between finite spirits and God. There seems, in-
deed, to be no need whatever in such a system for the
realm of God's ideas. Yet Berkeley appears to have be-
lieved in them, as several references show, and as one of
his special discussions may illustrate. One of the earliest
queries in the Commonplace Book is, "Qu: Whether suc-
cession of ideas in the Divine InteIlect?"26 He later an-
swers this query in the negative, and is then faced with
the problem of the meaning of the Creation. He solves it
by saying that, while God's ideas have existed from eter-
211C. i. 61.
26 C. i. 58, accepting the view of Lorenz that p. 58 is Berke-
ley's earliest writing.
370 ,. D. Mabbott
nity, Creation occurred when He made them perceptible
to finite spirits. But if "they became perceptible in the
same manner and order as is described in Genesis,"27 a
further difficulty appears. The creation of sun and moon
could not have meant their becoming perceptible to man,
who was created two days later. Berkeley ingeniously in-
troduces the angels, "there being other intelligences before
man was created."28 Berkeley also gives reasons why we
cannot dispense with God's ideas. God must be omnis-
cient as well as omnipotent, for "to know everything know-
able is certainly a perfection."29 "There is in the Deity
Understanding as well as Will. He is no blind agent, and
in truth a blind agent is a contradiction."BO In the Third
Dialogue Hylas suggests that power alone is sufficient to
account for our sense-data without God's having ideas.
Philonous replies, "A thing which hath no ideas in itself
cannot impart them to me."31 This does not seem ob-
vious, especially when he goes on to allow3 2 that God,
without having sense-data, can impart sense-data to me,
and when we recall that all ideas are sense-data or are de-
rived from them. "Ideas of Sense are the archetypes.
Ideas of imagination, dreams, etc., are copies, images, of
these."33 I hope to show that, despite these definite ex-
pressions of opinion, Berkeley did not make the Divine
Ideas an essential part of his system, and that there is
good reason to doubt whether he believed in them at all.
There are many reasons why he should not believe in
them. What is to be the relation between my ideas and
God's? At this moment I have my idea of the table before
me, and God has His. Surely this raises all the-difficulties
of a correspondence theory against which Berkeley fought
so persistently. All that he says against MaUer can be ap-
plied to attack this new correspondence. "Qu. Did ever
any man see any other things besides his own ideas, that
he should compare them to these, and make these like
27 Letter to Percival, i. 353.
28 C. i. 4l. Cf. D. III, i. 47l , 3.
29 D. III, i. 459. 30 C. i. 51. 81 D. III, i. 457.
82 D. III, i. 459. 83 C. i. p. Cf. i. l8.
The Place of God in Berkeley's Philosophy 37 1
unto them?"34 "Well, say I, Do you apprehend or con-
ceive what you say extension is like unto, or do you not?
If the latter, how know you they are alike? How can you
compare any things besides your own ideas?"35 God's
ideas are as useless as Matter in Locke's theory. "Ask a
man, I mean a philosopher, why he supposes this vast
structure, this compages of bodies? he shall be at a stand;
he'll not have one word to say."86 "But then, that they
should suppose an innumerable multitude of created be-
ings, which they acknowledge are not capable of producing
anyone effect in nature, and which therefore are made to
no manner of purpose, since God might have done every-
thing as well without them-this, I say, though we should
allow it possible, must yet be a very unaccountable and
extravagant supposition."37 "How therefore can you sup-
pose that an All-perfect Spirit, on whose Will all things
have an absolute and immediate dependence, should need
an instrument in His operations, or, not needing it, make
use of it? Thus it seems to me you are obliged to own the
use of a lifeless inactive instrument to be incompatible
with the infinite perfection of God."38 "The Will of an
Omnipotent Spirit is no sooner exerted than executed,
without the application of means."89 In all these passages
the objections are as valid against God's ideas-all ideas
being inactive-as against Matter.
Again, if the reality our ideas represent is the world of
God's ideas, Berkeley's principal claim for his theory must
fall-his claim that it is a direct theory of perception. "We
must with the mob place certainty in the senses."40
"There are others who say the wall is not white, the fire
is not hot, etc. We Irishmen cannot attain to these
truths."41 "We see the house itself, the church itself; it
being an idea and nothing more."42 What I perceive di-
rectly is the physical object, and all theories to the con-
84 C. i. 61. 85 C. i. 82. 86 C. i. 16.
87 P. § 53, i. 287. Cf. D. II, i. 427. 38 D. II, i. 432.
89 Ibid., 433. 40 C. i. 44. Cf. D. I, i. 383.
41 C. i. 91-
42 C. i. 9. Cf. D. III, i. 463, and especially i. 445. ce • • • the
real things are those very things I see and feel."
372 ,. D. Mabbott
trary are agnostic. "The reverse of the Principle introduced
Scepticism."43 "Colour, figure, motion, extension, and the
like, considered only as so many sensations in the mind,
are perfectly known. • • . But, if they are looked on as
notes or images referred to things or archetypes existing
without the mind, then we are involved all in scepticism.
We see only the appearances, and not the real qualities of
things. . . • All this scepticism follows from our suppos-
ing a difference between things and ideas."44 It follows no
less inevitably from supposing a difference between our
ideas and God's.
A further reason why Berkeley might well have dis-
pensed with a belief in Divine Ideas is his reiterated asser-
tion that ideas are inert and passive,4~ and the fact that
God's ideas would have necessarily to be spatial. 46 "'Tis
nevertheless of great use to religion to take extension out
of our idea of God, and put a power in its place. It seems
dangerous to suppose extension, which is manifestly inert,
in God."47 It is equally dangerous to suppose any ideas
(for all are inert) in God, who is pure activity. "I do not
understand how our ideas, which are things altogether pas-
sive and inert, can be the essence, or any part (or like any
part) of the essence or substance of God, who is an im-
passive, indivisible, pure, active being."48
It may be suggested that Berkeley can avoid the cor-
respondence difficulty and the scepticism it involves by
identifying our ideas with God's. On this view, when we
perceive, God reveals His ideas to us. "There is an omni-
present eternal Mind, which Knows and comprehends all
things, and exhibits them to our view in such a manner
• • • as He Himself hath ordained."49 This view is still
open to the objection that things passive and inert can be
no part of God, and to the further difficulty that all our
sense-data are private, because of our varied view-points,
as the "New Theory of Vision" exhaustively proved. An
identification of our ideas with God's is also attributed by
43 C. i. 83. 44 P. § 87, i. 305-6. Cf. D. I, i. 38z, 418.
45 E.g. i. 10, 13, 37, 41, 271, 4z9.
46This will be defended later. See Note at end.
47 C. i. 8z. 48 D. II, i. 4z6. 49 D. III, i. 447.
The Place of Cod in Berkeley's Philosophy 373
Berkeley to Malebranche as the view "that we see all
things in God," and attacked accordingly. The dualism
might also be avoided by holding that, in the act of per-
ceiving, my mind is identified with God's-the theory used
by T. H. Green in the case of conceptual relation. But
Berkeley was much too vague about the implications of
personality, and too stout a spiritual pluralist for moral
reasons, to rob the finite self of any independence. If both
these theories are reiected, the correspondence with its
difficulties must stand.
'For the reasons given above, it does not seem likely that
Berkeley himself believed in the Divine Ideas, at least as
a necessary part of his system. It is true that he frequently
mentions them, but we shall now show that some of these
expressions are suggestively guarded. In one place 5 () he
discusses the view that "Matter, though it be not per-
ceived by us, is nevertheless perceived by God, to whom it
is the occasion of exciting ideas in our minds." He remarks
first that this theory gives up the absolute independence
of matter, and is therefore "the only intelligible one that
I can pick from what is said of unknown occasions," but he
adds that "it seems too extravagant to deserve a confuta-
tion." Yet this extravaganza is identified by most critics
with Berkeleianism. "The upshot of alI is, that there are
certain unknown Ideas in the mind of God." "\Vhether
there are such ideas in the mind of God I shall not dis-
pute."51 "I shall not dispute"-not only here, but in other
places also, this is the best he can say for those Divine
Ideas which are supposed to be the keystone of his own
theory. Philonous is prepared to "an ow" Hylas that there
may be certain things perceived by the mind of God, which
are to Him the occasion of producing ideas in US. 52 Berke-
ley is consulted on this very point by Rev. Samuel John-
son, who aims here a more shrewd blow against the Bishop
than his notorious namesake. In reply Berk.eley says he
"has no objection against calling the Ideas in the Mind
of God archetypes of ourS."53 He is prepared to "allow"
50 P. § 70-75, i. 296 fI.
51 P. § 76, i. 300. (;2 D. II, i. 434.
53 Letter to Johnson, quoted, ii. HI
N
374 J. D. Mabbott
Divine Ideas because they do not offend against his cen-
tral doctrine that nothing is independent of Mind. But the
admission is not readily made, for they are really foreign
to his system.
It remains to ask why he should have mentioned them
at all. Three reasons can be found. He probably came to
them first; the simple symmetry of the crude theory
sketched at the beginning of this paper makes it an ob-
vious first refuge for a sinking subjectivist. If, however,
such a development took place, it must have preceded all
his published works, for the Commonplace Book shows
the mature theory complete. The only shred of evidence
for this suggestion may perhaps be found in the alteration
of percipere to agere as the esse of spirit.54 Secondly, theo-
logical considerations about omniscience would suggest the
addition of the Divine Ideas to his completed system.
Thirdly, it is much less alarming and revolutionary to
think of the trees in the park existing when nobody per-
ceives them, because they, with all their friendly, familiar
qualities, are perceived by God, than to think of them as
represented in God's mind by powers or volitions quite
unlike them in character. Here is the real reason for the
appearance of God's ideas in the published works, and
especially in the popular Dialogues. In the Commonplace
Book, Berkeley is uncompromising. "Bodies taken for pow-
ers do exist when not perceived."55 "Nothing without
corresponds to our primary ideas but powers."56 But he
resolves "Not to mention the combinations of powers, but
to say the things-the effects themselves-do really exist,
even when not actually perceived, but sti11 with relation
to perception."57 And why? "'Tis prudent to correct men's
mistake without altering their language. This makes truth
glide into their souls insensibly."58
If it is said that Divine perception is after all a possible
theory and is quite definitely asserted by Berkeley, a much
more striking example of his way of "humouring" his
audience "in their own way of talking"59 can be adduced.
54 C. 10, quoted above.
i. 55 C. i. 82. 56 C. i. 60.
57 C. i. 50. Italics in last three quotations mine.
58 C. i. 71. 59 C. i. 92.
The Place of God in Berkeley's Philosophy 375
In the New Theory of Vision he writes throughout as if
tangible sense-data were independent of the percipient.
The Commonplace Book shows that he had already dl7
cided that all sense-data were mind-dependent, so that
this is part of a policy of gradualness. Not until the Prin-
ciples does he attack tangibilia also. There is no question
of development. The Commonplace Book (1705-8) gives
the material for his whole system (except the technical
term "notion"-the need of which is noted 60 ); and the
New Theory (1709), the Principles (1710), and the Dia-
logues (1713) show differences which are merely strategic.
The Divine perception of the physical world is no more
part of the system than is the independent reality of tan-
gibilia. Both appear in the published works to mitigate
the j~r which the undiluted theory would administer to
the plain man's system. The only difference between the
two cases is that the reality of tangibilia (which is the
more bluntly stated of the two) is incompatible with the
whole system, while the existence of Divine Ideas conflicts
only with parts of it, so that he can continue to treat their
existence as an independently possible theological tenet,
as the doctrine of the Trinity might be, but with as little
connection with his philosophy as it has. "N.B. To use ut-
most caution not to give the least handle of offence to the
Church or Churchmen."61
Campbell Fraser raises one point of difficulty for our
insistence on the irrelevance of God's Ideas. The theory
that our sense-data form a "natural language" continually
recurs in Berkeley's works, and his editor explains the
conception by saying "Sense-ideas are the letters of the
alphabet in that language of natural order which God
employs for the expression of His Ideas to US."62 If this is
correct, the natural language' requires the existence of
God's Ideas; otherwise the words of the language would
be meaningless or express nothing. There are certainly
difficulties about Berkeley's language theory. In the New
Theory of Vision the words of the language were visible
60 i. 21, "improper ••. to make ourselves ideas, or thinking
things ideas."
61 C. i. 41. 82 i. 309, n. 2.
376 ,. D. Mabbott
colours and shapes, and they stood for thc real or tangible
objects. But when tangibilia are overtly admitted to be
mind-dependent a difficulty arises. If we say one type of
sense-datum (visible) expresses another (tangible), we
lose the distinction of status which we should expect to
separate a language from what it means. If, on the other
hand, we make the whole world of sense-data the lan-
guage, and also eliminate God's Ideas as unknown and
self-contradictory, what will the language express? Berke-
ley sometimes answers-the attributes of God. "The steady
consistent methods of nature may not unfitly be styled
the Language of its Author whereby he discovers his attri-
butes to our view."63 But in other places he says that
sense-data stand for other sense-data; "the proper objects
of sight"-light and colours-"do form a language wonder-
fully adapted to suggest and exhibit to us the distances,
figures, situations, and various qualities of tangible objects
. . . as words suggest the things signified by them."64 Per-
haps a modus vivendi might be arranged by distinguishing
what words express from what they evince. If I say "There
is the door," my words express a relation in space, but
they evince anger. So God's words-our sense-data-express
or suggest other sense-data, but evince His power and
good will. Whatever our solution may be, there is never a
suggestion in the whole of Berkeley's work that the "natu-
ral language" stands for God's ideas. This possibility is
definitely rejected in the pamphlet The Theory of Vision
Vindicated and Explained, which was published in 1732,
and which is interesting also as giving one of the clearest
statements of the view we have ventured to call "the real
Berkeley." "The objects of sense . . . are called ideas. . . •
From our ideas of sense, the inference of reason is good to
power, cause, agent. But we may not infer that our ideas
are like unto this Power, Cause, or Active Being. On the
contrary, it seems evident that an idea can be only like
another idea, and that in our ideas . . . there is nothing
of power, causality, or agency included. . . . Whenever,
therefore, the appellation of sensible object is used in a
63P. § 108, i. 317. 64 Alciphron IV. 10, ii. 168.
The Place of God in Berkeley's Philosophy 377
determined, intelligible sense, it is not applied to signify
this absolutely existing outward cause or power, but the
ideas themselves produced thereby. Ideas which are ob-
served to be connected together are vulgarly considered
under the relation of cause and effect, whereas, in strict
and philosophic truth, they are only related as sign to the
thing signified."G5
It may also be objected that we have left "Siris" out of
account. The reasons are many. If we exclude "Siris,"
Berkeley's system shows no development except the use
of the word "notion" to cover our knowledge of spirits and
some dissatisfaction with his attack on Abstract Ideas. In
the "Siris" we find a new world. Its Platonic mysticism,
its toleration of forms and influences, its reverent agnosti-
cism, its dependence on the Timarus and Proclus, are
poles apart from the Berkeley of the other works. It is
true that Divine Ideas are important in "Siris," but they
are no more than those "Forms" of Plato which the mis-
understandings of Albinus and his followers (popularized
by the deceptive transliteration of the Greek word "idea")
had transmuted into "Ideas in the Divine Mind." There is
nothing BerkeIeian about them. To attempt to unite the
hints and gropings of "Siris" into some kind of dusky
Christian Platonism, and then to regard the result as
characteristic of Berkeley, would be like making the Cath-
olic faith the central belief of Voltaire on the strength of
his reputed death-bed conversion. Catholicism and Vol-
taire make as strange bed-fellows as "Siris" and Berkeley.
If it is said that God must have some theoretical activity
-He cannot be a blind agent-our answer is that this may
well be true, but that all Berkeley's main tenets preclude
it. His mistake no doubt was to limit theoretical activity
to the passive reception of sense-data and their imaginative
reproduction, and thereby to make such experience im-
possible for God. But Berkeley without these limitations is
not Berkeley, but Kant or (as in "Siris") Plato. If he had
extended his so-called doctrine of notions from spirits to
relations, as he did, and from relations to universals, as he
850p. cit., § § 12, 13, ii. 386.
378 ,. D. Mabbott
did not, he could have allowed God to have notions. "God
knows or has ideas, but his ideas are not conveyed to him
by sense as ours are."66 But the first extension, to rela-
tions, is illegitimate, for relations are passive and notions
are of the active. Such extensions would take us far beyond
Berkeleianism, though they might take us nearer truth.
'They would recall too much the methods of last century's
Hegelians, who, when they had to examine a philosopher,
tended inevitably to "elicit" from him the Hegelian posi-
tion or to "develop" him until it emerged.6T Berkeley in
the history of philosophy must always be the Berkeley of
170S to 1713, and that means a Berkeley to whom God
is essentially Will and not Thought.

Note.- 'There are certain considerations which suggest

that God's ideas, if He has any, must be spatial. We
might be tempted to hold that they are "unknown"68 in
chamcter, but represented to us by spatial data, as are
Kant's things-in-themselves. In illustmtion of this we
might quote the army system in which disciplinary rela-
tionships are represented in most languages by spatial
terms. Lance-corpomls and bombardiers are "on the same
level," and "above them" are corpomls. If a savage had this
organization described to him, he would naturally sup-
pose that an army meant a large pyramidal pile of men
with a Field-Marshal sitting "at the top" and a thick layer
of oppressed privates "at the bottom." 'The growing use of
gmphs has familiarized most people with this idea of rep-
resenting a function with two variables (non-spatial in
chamcter) by means of a line plotted with the aid of two
spatial axes. Why should not God's ideas (themselves non-
spatial, like the spiritual relationships which unite an
army) be represented to us by spatial sense-data (as we
say "tmnsfer, degmde, sous-ofticier, High Command,"
etc.)?
'The answer is that the two dimensions in an army are
not interconvertible. You could explain to a savage move-
66 D. III, i. 458.
8T Cf. Caird on Kant, or Bosanquet on Plato.
88 P. § 75, quoted, p. :as.
The Place of God in Berkeley's Philosophy 379
ments in each "dimension" taken separately; the ease with
which a private could become a corporal compared with
the difficulty of his becoming a general marks one "di-
mension," the simplicity of transferring from one com-
pany to another contrasted with the difficulty of the trans-
fer to another regiment giving the other. But you could
not combine the two in a single measure; the distance be-
tween a Sergeant in the Seaforths and a Private of the
Buffs is strictly immeasurable. In a spatial field there is
such a "diagonal" distance. If X is three miles north of
and P is four miles west of X, then P is five miles north-
°
west of 0, both direction and distance being fully deter-
minable. Space is a continuum whose three dimensions
have a common unit of measure, and-here is the crucial
point-it is the only continuum of this kind; therefore if
God's ideas are to have all the varieties of relation which
our ideas manifest, they must have a character which we
find exemplified only in space itself. Otherwise the deriva-
tive will be richer in relations than that from which it is
derived. Thus our illustrations by means of army organi-
zation, etc., all break down, and it seems that the reality
our spatial ideas represent must itself be spatial. Here also,
perhaps, we may find a reason for rejecting Berkeley's the-
ory of the physical world, placing power in God, in favour
of the view that places power in spatial centres. But the
main aim of this paper was to determine what Berkeley
himself believed, and not to find difficulties in his system.
 BERKELEY AND GOD
JONATHAN BENNETT

It is well known that Berkeley had two arguments for

the existence of God. A while ago, in trying to discover
what these arguments are and how they fit into Berkeley's
scheme of things, I encountered certain problems which
are hardly raised, let alone solved, in the standard com-
mentaries. I think that I have now solved these problems,
and in this paper I preseflt my results.

THE CONTINUITY ARGUMENT

'The argument which is immortalised in the limericks

about the tree in the quad, and which I shall call the
continuity argument, goes as follows:
(a) No idea, and therefore no collection of ideas, can
exist when not perceived by some spirit;
(b) Objects are collections of ideas, and therefore can-
not exist when Dot perceived by some spirit;
( c) Objects do sometimes exist when not perceived by
any human spirit;
therefore
(d) There must be one or more non-human spirits
which perceive objects when no human spirit per-
ceives them.
'The first premiss reflects Berkeley's penchant for speak-
ing of ideas which people 'perceive' where one would pre-
fer that he spoke of sensory states which people may be in.
'This is one aspect of that reification of ideas or sense-data
From PhiIoBoph" Vol. XL (1965). Reprinted, with minor
corrections, by permission of the author and Philosophy.
Berkeley and God 381
which ran through Locke, Berkeley and Hume, and which
has, in my opinion, vitiated much of the epistemology of
the present century; but it raises issues which go too deep
to be explored now. The second premiss reflects Berkeley's
failure to see that, even if what we say about objects is
reducible to what we say about sensory states. the mode
of reduction might be too complex for terms like 'collec-
tion' to be in place. That is, it reflects his having opted
for his kind of idealism, rather than for phenomenalism.
If Berkeley had .not taken this option, he could not have
used the continuity argument, for its second premiss would
then not have been available to him; but that too lies deep
in Berkeley'S thought and forms no part of my present
concern. Nor shall I consider the yawning gulf between
the conclusion of the argument and the Christian mono-
theism which it is supposed to serve. This gulf, and the
moves which Berkeley might make to bridge it, are mat-
ters of routine apologetics which have little philosophical
interest. The questions which I do wish to answer are
these:
(1) Why does Berkeley think that he is entitled to the
argument's third premiss, which says that objects do exist
when not perceived by any human spirit? The argument
depends, through its second premiss, upon equating state-
ments about the existence of objects not with statements
about sensory states which would be had if certain condi-
tions obtained, but with statements about the existence
of sensory states the having of which is the perceiving of
objects. From this, one would have thought, it follows very
obviously that' there could not be grounds for saying that
any object exists at a time when no human perceives it.
(2) Why does Berkeley not use the continuity argu-
ment in his Principles of Human Knowledge? It will not
do to say that he did not think of it until after that work
was written, and that this is why it appears only in the
Three Dialogues. If Berkeley had seen how bad the argu-
ment is, he would not have used it at all; failing to see
that, he ought to have thought it deeply satisfactory. If,
in addition, the continuity argument came to him as a
new discovery after the writing of the Principles, he would
N·
382 Jonathan Bennett
surely have highlighted it in the later work which was
supposed to remedy the unfavourable reception of the
earlier. Yet in the Three Dialogues the argument is pre-
sented just once, in a passage consisting of two short sen-
tences. This remark may be found surprising, but I shall
justify it.

THE PASSIVITY ARGUMENT

Berkeley's other argument for God's existence, which I

shall call the passivity argument, goes as follows:
(a) My ideas of sense (i.e. those which I have when I
perceive objective states of affairs) come into my
mind without being caused to do so by any act of
my will;
(b) The occurrence of any idea must be caused by the
will of some being in whose mind the idea occurs;
therefore
(c) My ideas of sense are in the mind of, and caused
by the will of, some being other than myself.
Underlying this argument is Berkeley's belief that brute-
fact regularities are not truly causal, and that the only gen-
uinely causal activity is the purposeful behaviour of
sentient beings. The argument also involves a dubious as-
sumption about the notion of an 'act of the will'. These
flaws in the argument go to the heart of what I take to be
some of Berkeley's most radical errors, but I shall discuss
neither them nor the extent to which the passivity argu-
ment, even if valid, falls short of creating a presumption
in favour of Christianity. The questions which I wish to
answer are these:
( 3) Why does Berkeley accept the second premiss of
the argument? Granted his belief that causal activity is the
prerogative of 'the will of a spirit', why does Berkeley
think that every change in anyone's sensory state must
have a cause?
(4) Does Berkeley see-and, if so, why does he not say
-that the passivity argument gives to God a quite differ-
ent scope from that given to him by the continuity argu-
Berkeley and God 383
ment? By the passivity argument, God perceives objects
when we perceive them; by the continuity argument, God
perceives objects when we do not. The two arguments are
not in conflict on this point; indeed they are, on the face
of it, agreeably complementary. Why does Berkeley not
call attention to this striking feature of his theological
arguments?

THE POINT OF THE QUESTIONS

I have waived a number of objections which depend

upon Berkeley's not having seen further than he did into
the nature of objectivity concepts, causal necessity, voli·
tion, sensory states, and so on. He was only Berkeley, not
God; it takes time, and generations of stumbling, to get
these deep and difficult matters right. But my question
(1), about the existence of objects when they are per-
ceived by no human, does not concern a deep error on
Berkeley's part, but simply points to an obvious conflict
between the continuity argument and one of Berkeley's
most cherished views. We must therefore answer the ques-
tion if we are to be able to trace the movement of thought
in Berkeley's pages. To understand a philosopher we need
not believe everything he says, but we must at least be
able to see how he could have made the mistakes which he
did make. My answers to questions (.2) and (4) will, it is
true, rob (1) of most of its interest; but it is nevertheless
just worth asking, and there are exegetical lessons to be
learned from answering it.
My question (3), about the assumption that every
change of sensory state is caused, is in a slightly different
case. It is arguable that Berkeley was one of those phi.
losophers-we know there have been many-who assume
without question that there are no absolutely brute facts.
I found this answer to (3) unconvincing, even before I
had an alternative to it; and there is an alternative. Berke-
ley may not have taken it as axiomatic that every change
of sensory state must be caused: he does give a reason for
384 Jonathan Bennett
accepting this premiss of the passivity argument, though
so far no commentator seems to have noticed it. I have
found it only once in Berkeley's writings, and it may be
that Berkeley put no weight upon it, and was after all one
of those for whom it is axiomatic that every 'Why?'-
question has an answer. Nevertheless, as with (1), there is
profit to be gained from taking question (3) as seriously
as possible, if only because (1) and (3) are useful pegs
on which to hang some exegetical material which is vital
for the answering of (2) and (4).
Questions (2) and (4) raise general issues about what
sort of thing Berkeley thought he was doing with his theo-
logical arguments and-more important-what kind of
scepticism it was that he was so anxious to disavow. Unless
these issues are resolved, we cannot have an intelligent
and informed picture of what is happening in the Princi-
ples and the Three Dialogues. I doubt if anything of live
philosophical importance depends upon the answers to
(2) and (4); but other aspects. of Berkeley do still have
something to teach us, and we shall not profit from them
if we do not see clearly the total endeavour of which they
form a part.
There is another matter which concerns all four ques-
tions. Berkeley's thought has more hard, complex structure
than is usually realised. In his pages there is a less elabo-
rate apparatus of self-conscious pros and cons, explana-
tions and caveats, definitions and distinctions, than we
should expect to find in a twentieth-century writer of simi-
lar scope; but the complexity and intellectual sophistica-
tion are there all the same; and it seems to me bad and
unhealthy that Berkeley should be kept alive, to be hur-
riedly scanned from time to time and made the subject
of elementary books, without proper attention being paid
to the detailed ways in which his thought moved. I make
this protest on behalf not only of Berkeley but also of
Locke and Hume, Spinoza and Leibniz. A recent writer,
for example, has described Hume's section 'Of Scepticism
with regard to the Senses' as ironical. No one could say
this who had toiled through that section trying to find out
Berkeky and God 385
in detail what is going on in it; and if the section is not
studied in detail, it should not be studied at all. No one
would skim through a chapter by Moore, say, and then
expect to be thanked for an impressionistic account of its
main drift; and yet this kind of condescension is accorded
to the immeasurably tougher, abler, more sophisticated
and more genuinely complex thought of such philosophers
as Berkeley.

AN ANSWER TO QUESTION (3)

The question is: "\Vhy does Berkeley, in the passivity

argument, help himself to the assumption that there must
be what he would call a 'cause' for any change in anyone's
sensory state? In Principles h6 he says: 'We perceive a
continual succession of ideas, some are anew excited,
others are changed or disappear. There is therefore some
cause of these ideas whereon they depend, and which pro-
duces and changes them.' This suggests that Berkeley just
is a philosopher of that familiar kind who cannot entertain
the possibility that an intelligible 'Why?' might have no
answer. This broadly rationalist frame of mind is sympa-
thetically described by Warnock in connection with his
answer to my question (3): 'The true foundation of his
view is, I believe, the conviction that to hold that events
merely occur, without any purpose and volition behind
them or anything analogous with purpose and volition, is
to say something which is really quite unintelligible . . .'
(Berkeley, p. 123).
In the passage I have cited, Berkeley is not deploying
the passivity argument for God's existence, but merely ar-
guing quite generally for the existence of spirits. He could
as well have left causes out altogether, and used his stock
argument that there must be spirits because it is 'repug-
nant' that ideas should exist unowned. Since Berkeley is
not here centrally concerned with the special case of ideas
in respect of which one is passive, we should not put too
much weight on his seeming to take it for granted that
386 Jonathan Bennett
every change in one's ideas must have some cause. In
Principles §29, however, the case is different: 'Whatever
power I may have over my own thoughts, I find the ideas
actually perceived by sense have not a like dependence on
my will. . . . There is therefore some other will or spirit
tllat produces them. . . .' We are now in the region
where there is a prima facie case for denying that the
change in one's ideas has a cause, because one is not the
cause of them oneself; and yet Berkeley apparently takes
it for granted that there must be some cause. This looks
like support for Warnock's diagnosis of him as, in a broad
sense, a rationalist.
On the other hand, Berkeley does not read like a ration-
alist. In his account of those regularities which are usually
taken to be causal, he is as blandly and confidently final
as Hume, and one does not have the impression that this
is only because he thinks that in disqualifying observed
regularities from counting as causal he is making room for
something else equally comprehensive. This is a matter
of tone and of nuance, and unaided it will bear no weight
at all; but it is confirmed in Principles § 146: 'Those things
which are called the works of nature, that is, the far greater
part of the ideas or sensations perceived by us, are not
produced by, or dependent on, the wills of men. There is
therefore some other spirit that causes them, since it is
repugnant that they should subsist by themselves.' Here,
if English grammar counts for anything, Berkeley gives a
reason for saying that a change in my ideas which I do not
cause must be caused by some other spirit, namely that
ideas cannot 'subsist by themselves'. Normally, when
Berkeley says that ideas cannot subsist by themselves, he
is making a point about the ownership of ideas: every idea
must be someone's. But now, it seems, he is inferring from
this that the occurrence of any idea must be caused. This
is a non-sequitur, but there is a distinction to be made be-
tween a thesis which a philosopher defends by an invalid
argument and one which he sees no need to support with
arguments at all.
There is something to be learned from this particular
Berkeley and God 387
non-sequitur. I think that it turns upon an ambiguity in
the word 'depend': I suggest, that is, that in the passage
I have quoted Berkeley slides from 'not dependent on
(= not caused by) my mind' to 'dependent on (= caused
by) some other mind', through the general formula that
necessarily every idea must depend on (= exist in, or be
owned by) some mind.
It is certainly true that when Berkeley discusses the re-
lation between ideas and minds in terms of 'depend' and
its grammatical cognates, he does use these words both to
talk about the ownership of ideas by minds and to talk
about the causing of ideas by minds. Some generous col-
laborators in Cambridge have put me in possession of all
Berkeley's uses of 'depend' and its cognates throughout
the Principles and the Three Dialogues; and the facts are
as follows. There is a muddled and unclassifiable use of
'dependent' in Principles §12; there are half a dozen places
where 'depend' is used logically, i.e. where a theory is said
to depend upon another theory, or a problem to depend
upon a preiudice; and there are a dozen uses of 'depend'
or its cognates in which the items whose dependence is
spoken of are not ideas at all, e.g. where Berkeley says
that we depend on God or that God is independent of
everything. Of the remaining uses of 'depend', etc., all but
four fall squarely into one or other of two classes:
The ownership uses. In Principles §§6, &), 91, in the
first dialogue, pp. 158,1 163-64, in the second dialogue,
p. 176, and in the third dialogue, p. 223, Berkeley uses
'independent', 'dependent' (once) and 'independency'
(once) to make a point about the ownership of ideas. In
each of these passages, the question of whether an idea is
independent of a given mind is the question of whether it
exists unowned by, not had by, or as Berkeley would say
'not perceived by', the mind in question.
1 Page-numbers are those in David M. Armstrong (ed.),
Berkeley's Philosophical Writings. Those who do not have this
may be helped to check my references by the information that in
the Armstrong volume the first dialogue is on pp. 135-171, the
second on pp. 171-189, and the third on pp. 189-225.
388 Jonathan Bennett
The causal uses. In Principles §§lo, 26, 29, 33, 106, in
the first dialogue, pp.. 1 59, 160, in the second dialogue,
p. 177, and in the third dialogue, p. 197, Berkeley uses
'depend' and four of its grammatical cognates to make a
point about the causes of ideas. In these passages, an idea
is dependent on a given mind if it is caused or 'excited'
by that mind.
Berkeley has, then, two distinct jobs for the 'depend'
family to do; and he too must agree that they are distinct,
since he does not think that the only ideas which occur in
my mind are ones which are caused by my mind. Since he
nowhere comments on this double use of 'depend', one
suspects that he has not noticed it; and this suspicion is
immeasurably strengthened by Principles § 56 where
Berkeley criticises an inference which turns upon the very
ambiguity which I have noted (the italics are mine): 'Men
knowing they perceived several ideas whereof they were
not themselves the authors, as not being excited from
within nor depending on the operation of their wills, this
made them maintain those ideas or objects of perception
had an existence independent of and without the mind,
without ever dreaming that a contradiction was involved
in those words.' Here Berkeley says that a contradictory
conclusion has been drawn from a true premiss, and thus
he implies that the argument is invalid. Its invalidity
clearly turns upon the fact that in the premiss 'not • • •
depending on' means 'not caused by', while in the conclu-
sion 'independent of' means 'not owned by'; but Berkeley
does not remark on this ambiguity. Apparently he is so
totally unaware of the ambiguity as a possible source of
danger that he does not spot it even where it engenders a
fallacy which he is actively engaged in pointing out.
It therefore seems clear that the passage I have quoted
from Principles § 146 should be interpreted in the way I
have suggested, i.e. as an unrecognised exploitation of the
ambiguity of 'dependent on'. At any rate, Berkeley does
argue from 'All ideas are owned' to 'All ideas are caused',
and the word 'dependent' is there. If it is not the source
of the trouble, then the passage involves a non-sequitur
which is about twice as bad as anything else in the book.
Berkeley and God 389

THE ANSWER TO QUESTION (1)

The question is: Why does Berkeley, in the continuity

argument, allow himself the premiss that objects exist
while not perceived by any human? A possible answer is
that this is such a deep-rooted, normal human assumption
that Berkeley could not help making it even though he
could not, on his own philosophical principles, be entitled
to make it. Thus Warnock: 'Berkeley . . . knows that any
plain man would insist that the furniture in an unoccu-
pied room actually does exist, not merely that it would
exist if the room were occupied; and he himself thinks
that it would be merely absurd to question this' (Berkeley,
p. 115).
This strikes me as false. In many places, Berkeley
calmly says that if we clear our minds we shall see that
we have no grounds for believing in the existence of ob-
jects while they are unperceived. See for example Princi-
ples §4, and also the following from Principles §6: 'All
those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world
have not any subsistence without a mind; their being
(esse) is to be perceived; consequently so long as they are
not actually perceived by me, or do not exist in my mind
or that of any other created spirit, they must either have
no existence at all, or else subsist in the mind of some
eternal spirit: These are not the words of someone who
would add that since objects do exist when not perceived
by created spirits therefore there must be an eternal spirit
which perceives them. The suggestion is rather that unless
we can find independent grounds for believing that there
is an eternal spirit we are not entitled to say that objects
exist while not perceived by any created spirit; and some-
one whose mind is working this way cannot base the con-
tinuity argument for God's existence on the premiss that
it is just obvious that objects exist when not perceived by
any created spirit.
Again, in Principles §§45-8, Berkeley discusses the
charge 'that from the foregoing principles it follows [that]
390 JOTUlthan Bennett
things are every moment annihilated and created anew.
• . • Upon shutting my eyes, all the furniture in the room
is reduced to nothing, and barely upon opening them it is
again created: He does not reply that of course that would
be absurd, but. • . • Oil the contrary, he says that the
charge itself is absurd, and that, since anyone who brings
it must admit that it is impossible 'either for his ideas or
their archetypes to exist without being perceived . . .
it is unreasonable for him to stand up in defence of he
knows not what, and pretend to charge on me as an ab-
surdity the not assenting to those propositions which at
bottom have no meaning' (§45). He proceeds to devote
two sections to arguing that certain rival schools of phi-
losophy are committed to the same conclusion, and only
then does he remark mildly that after all he is not com-
mitted to the conclusion himself: 'Though we hold, in-
deed, the objects of sense to be nothing else but ideas
which cannot exist unperceived, yet we may not hence
conclude they have no existence except only while they are
perceived by us, since there may be some other spirit that
perceives them, though we do not. Wherever bodies are
said to have no existence without the mind, I would not
be understood to mean this or that particular mind, but
all minds whatsoever. It does not therefore follow from
the foregoing principles that bodies are annihilated and
created every moment, or exist not at all during the inter-
vals between our perception of them' (§48). The crucial
expressions are 'we may not thence conclude', 'there ma),
be some other spirit', 'it does not therefore follow'. These
are not the words of someone who proposes to base the
continuity argument on the absurdity of denying that ob-
jects have a continuous existence.
(Among all the commentators who credit Berkeley with
a confident belief in the existence of objects when they
are not perceived by humans, Dawes Hicks and Luce do at
least see that Principles §§45-8 needs some explaining
away. Warnock, on the other hand, says: 'It would, he
says, be absurd to suggest that "things are every moment
annihilated and created anew" .. : (Berkeley, p. 115).
Warnock gives no reference for the clause he quotes, but
Berkeley and God 39 1
we have seen that it comes from Principles §45, in which
Berkeley resolutely, and mockingly, refuses to say that it
is absurdl)
We find the solution to the puzzle in the third dialogue
(p. 193), where Hylas asks: 'Supposing you were anni-
hilated, cannot you conceive it possible that things per-
ceivable by sense may still exist?' Philonous replies: 'I can;
but then it must be in another mind. When I deny sen-
sible things an existence out of the mind, I do not mean
my mind in particular, but all minds. Now it is plain they
have an existence exterior to my mind, since I find them
by experience to be independent of it. There is therefore
some other mind wherein they exist, during the intervals
between the time of my perceiving them: as likewise they
did before my birth, and would do after my supposed an-
nihilation.' Here we have the ambiguity of 'depend' etc.,
which I noted earlier, but this time exploited in reverse.
I find 'by experience' that some ideas are independent of
(= not caused by) my mind, and I therefore conclude
that they are independent of my mind (= owned by some
mind other than mine), and thence that they can exist
after my annihilation.
The passivity argument has the dubious premiss that
all ideas are caused by some mind, while the continuity
argument has the dubious premiss that some ideas are not
owned by my mind. Now if we replace 'caused' by 'owned'
in the former of these, the result is something which Berke-
ley is entitled to accept; and similarly if we replace 'owned'
by 'caused' in the latter. Berkeley has, in effect, performed
these substitutions by expressing each premiss, in terms of
'dependent on' and interpreting this in the way most fa-
vourable to the purpose in hand. If this is not a correct
account of this third-dialogue passage, what other explana-
tion can be given for Berkeley's allowing himself to say
that we 'find by experience' that some of our ideas are
'exterior' to our minds in a sense which is relevant to their
continuity 'during the intervals between the time of our
perceiving them'?
It may be thought that I have rested too much on one
brief and rather casual presentation of the continuity argu-
39 2 Tonathan Bennett
ment; but I make no apology for this, since the passage I
have quoted from the third dialogue is Berkeley's only
presentation of the continuity argument. In my next two
sections I shall show that this is so.

'REALITY' IN BERKELEY

When Berkeley talks about the 'reality' of things, and

about 'scepticism' in that connection, he is not talking
about continuity or about anything which is relevant to
the continuity argument. In Principles §33 he says: 'The
ideas imprinted on the senses by the author of nature are
called real things. . . . The ideas of sense are allowed to
have more reality in them, that is, to be more strong,
orderly and coherent than the creatures of the mind . . .
They are also less dependent on the spirit or thinking sub-
stance which perceives them, in that they are excited by
the will of another and more powerful spirit. . . .' This
is all in the region of the passivity argument: it concerns
ideas which exist although not caused by me, and it has
nothing to do with ideas which exist when not perceived
by me.
In Principles § 34 Berkeley faces squarely the accusation
that his principles lead to scepticism about the reality of
things: 'It will be objected that by the foregoing princi-
ples, all that is real and substantial in nature is banished
out of the world. . . . All things that exist, exist only in
the mind, that is, they are purely notional. What there-
fore . . . must we think of houses, rivers, mountains,
trees, stones . . . ? Are all these but so many chimeras
and illusions on the fancy? To all which . • . I answer
that by the principles premised we are not deprived of any
one thing in nature. Whatever we see, feel, hear, or any
wise conceive or understand, remains as secure as ever,
and is as real as ever. There is a rerum natura, and the
distinction between realities and chimeras retains its full
force. This is evident from sections 29, 30 and 33, where
we have shown what is meant by real things in opposition
to chimeras, or ideas of our own framing. . . .' Here again
Berkeley and God 393
there is not a word about the existence of things while they
are not perceived by me,' or by any created spirit: the
question of reality is explicitly referred back to the earlier
discussion which, like the re-play of it in §36, is conducted
solely in terms of one's passivity in respect of ideas which
one does have. Throughout §§3O-44, where Berkeley treats
of reality, chimeras, scepticism, etc., he does not once dis-
cuss whether sensible things exist when they are not per-
ceived by me or when they are not perceived by any finite
creature. Throughout fifteen sections the discussion is en-
tirely confined to ideas which one does have, and thus en-
tirely excludes the question of continuity.
This latter question is, as we have seen, raised in
§§45-8, where the issue is clearly stated in terms of what
can be the case at a time when I have no ideas in my mind.
Notice, though, that Berkeley explicitly treats this as a
new question, over and above the issues about 'reality'
which he has been discussing for some pages. After an
exhaustive discussion of reality, etc., he starts §45 with
the words: 'Fourthly, it will be obiected that from the
foregoing principles it follows, things are every moment
annihilated and created anew .• .'. And in §48 he refers
back to 'the obiection proposed in Section 45', not to 'the
obiection we have been discussing for the past fifteen or so
sections'.
When in Principles §§82-4 Berkeley defends himself
against the charge that he has so emptied out the universe
as to be in conflict with holy writ, he deals with this en-
tirely in terms of the real/imaginary dichotomy, and the
matters of passivity on which it depends. There is again
nothing about objects existing when not perceived by cre-
ated spirits.
Finally, in Principles §90 Berkeley talks about external-
ity: 'The things perceived by sense may be termed ex-
ternal, with regard to their origin, in that they are not
generated from within by the mind itself, but imprinted
by a spirit distinct from that which perceives them. Sen-
sible objects may likewise be said to be without the mind
in another sense, namely when they exist in some other
mind. Thus when I shut my eyes, the things I saw may
394 Jonathan Bennett
still exist, but it must be in another mind.' Berkeley calls
this another sense of 'external': so far from running the
two together, he explicitly distinguishes them.
Notice also his conspicuous failure to base any argument
on the second sense of 'external': he says only that the
things I saw may still exist, but it must be in another
mind. This uncombative remark fits in with Berkeley's
other treatments of the question about whether any ideas
.or sensible things exist when I do not perceive them. I
showed in my preceding section that, so far from insisting
that it would be absurd to deny sensible things a continu-
ous existence, Berkeley normally contents himself with
saying mildly that he is not positively committed to any
such denial. It begins to look as if, as well as distinguishing
'reality' from continuity, we must also say that Berkeley
cares deeply about the former but that the latter is not for
him a matter of urgency or anxiety or even much" interest.
If this is true, as I believe it is, the implications for Berke-
ley's theological arguments are obvious.

I
THE 'FALSE IMAGINARY GLARE' PASSAGE

To prove Berkeley's unconcern with the question of

continuity, I need to cite all the passages in which he
raises the question of things' existing when not perceived
by humans and show that in none of them (apart from
the two-sentence continuity argument in the third dia-
logue) does he show any inclination to insist on the con-
tinuity of sensible things or to argue from their continuity
to the existence of God. I have in fact already dealt with
all Berkeley's discussions of continuity in the Principles
and Dialogues; but the second dialogue contains one pas-
sage which looks a little as though it were concerned with
continuity and is indeed sometimes adduced as a source
for the continuity argument. I shall try to show that this
is a mistake.
The passage in question occurs on pp. 173-77. Here Phi-
lonous sings the praises of the universe, and asks: 'How
should those principles be entertained that lead us to
Berkeley and God 39S
think all the visible beauty of the creation a false imagi-
nary glare?'. (Berkeley is here leading into the question of
whether his own principles lead to such a conclusion; he is
not, as Warnock implies in his Berkeley, p. 118, railing
against Locke.) Hylas, who has been converted to what he
takes to be Berkeley's principles, meets this with the for-
lorn remark that 'My comfort is, you are as much a sceptic
as I am'; to which Philonous replies that on the contrary
he is not a sceptic, that scepticism does not follow from
his principles and indeed is not true, and that God will
come to the rescue. 'As sure . . . as the sensible world
reaIIy exists, so sure is there an infinite, omnipresent Spirit
who contains and supports it.' He also distinguishes his
position from the pious declaration that God sees all: 'Is
there no difference between saying there is a God, there-
fore he perceives all things: and saying sensible things do
really exist: and if they really exist they are necessarily
perceived by an infinite mind: therefore there is an in-
finite mind, or God. This furnishes you with a direct and
immediate demonstration, from a most evident principle,
of the being of a God.' This has been taken as an exposi-
tion of the continuity argument, but it is no such thing.
Firstly, there is as I have already pointed out a sharp
separation in Berkeley between the question of whether
things 'exist when not perceived by human minds' and the
question of whether anything 'is real', 'really exists', 'is
not imaginary', etc., these latter expressions being eluci-
dated by Berkeley mainly in terms of the causes of ideas.
In the passage under discussion there is not one word
about the existence of things when they are not perceived
by us. Philonous speaks of depriving the world 'of all
reality', of reducing it to 'a false imaginary glare', of the
'real existence' of things, and of inferring God's existence
from 'the bare existence of the sensible world'.
Berkeley makes Philonous say that Hylas's scepticism
arises precisely from his misunderstanding of what it is for
something to be real; and we have already noted Berkeley's
insistence that, properly understood, the notion of 'a real
thing' is the notion of something which exists although
396 Jonathan Bennett
not caused by me, and is not the notion of something
which exists when not perceived by me.
Secondly, consider how the passage develops. Hylas asks
whether Philonous's position differs from 'a notion enter-
tained by some eminent modems, of seeing all things- in
God'. The discussion then becomes mired in Philonous's
attempt to understand and to criticise Malebranche; until
finally Philonous brushes Malebranche aside and pulls the
discussion back to his own views with the abrupt words:
'Take here in brief my meaning .. .', whereupon he
launches into a lucid presentation of the passivity argu-
ment!
Why have some commentators associated the 'false,
imaginary glare' passage with the continuity argument, in
the face of such clear indications that this is a mistake?
Part of the trouble doubtless lies in the prejudgment
that it is useless to look to Berkeley for any distinction
which couldn't be drawn with a three-inch brush; but
there are two sentences which, I suspect, have had a spe-
cial responsibility for the misconstruction of the passage
as a whole. Philonous says: 'To me it is evident, for the
reasons you allow of, that sensible things cannot exist
otherwise than in a mind or spirit. Whence I conclude,
not that they have no real existence, but that seeing they
depend not on my thought, and have an existence distinct
from being perceived by me, there must be some other
mind wherein they exist.' Since the first sentence is ex-
plicitly concerned with the ownership of ideas, it might be
argued that the second sentence concerns ownership too,
so that the two together do introduce the continuity
argument.
Since this reading of the two sentences makes nonsense
of the rest of the passage, I do not think that anyone
could easily accept it unless he had already overlooked all
Berkeley's distinctions between the two sorts of scepticism
which go with the two arguments for God's existence. In
fact, though, the interpretation in question is probably
wrong, as can be seen if we inspect the beginning of the
paragraph in which the two sentences occur. Philonous
says that his opinions would lead to the sceptical conclu-
Berkeley and God ~97

sion that sensible things are not real if Hylas were right in
taking 'the reality of sensible things' to consist in 'an
absolute existence out of the minds of spirits'. He goes on:
'But I neither said nor thought the reality of sensible
things was to be defined after that manner. To me it is
evident, for the reasons you allow of, that sensible things
cannot exist otherwise than in a mind or spirit. Whence I
conclude . . . etc.' The argument is not that sensible
things cannot exist out of all minds, but do sometimes
exist out of human minds and must therefore sometimes
exist in a non-human mind. It is that sensible things can-
not exist out of all minds, but are undoubtedly real, and
therefore 'real' must be defined in some other way than
'capable of existing out of all minds'. The point about the
ownership of ideas comes in here solely in order to high-
light Hylas's wrong analysis of 'real'.
I do not contend that the passage is flawless. On my
interpretation, Philonous's 'Whence I conclude .. .' is
too abrupt: there should at this point be a reference to the
analysis of 'real' which Philonous does accept. But if we
are to take the passage as giving the continuity argument,
then-apart from the difficulties already mentioned-we
must suppose that in Berkeley's first and almost his only
presentation of that argument he fails to make the point
that something may exist out of all human minds without
existing out of all minds whatsoever. He makes this point
clearly enough in his other, unargumentative discussions
of continuity; but now that continuity is supposed to be-
come really important to him we are invited to believe
that he neglects to say the one thing which most needs
saying.
If someone still insists that in this passage Berkeley is
nevertheless also thinking of the continuity argument and
conflating it with the passivity argument, I cannot prove
him wrong. In an earlier section I listed all but four of
Berkeley's uses of 'depend' and its cognates in speaking of
the relationship between ideas and minds. Of the four
exceptions, one was the passage in § 56 in which Berkeley
criticises an argument which turns upon the ambiguity of
'depend' without himself mentioning this ambiguity; one
398 Jonathan Bennett
was the passage in Principles § 146 where Berkeley himself
exploits the ambiguity in order to move from 'every idea
depends upon (= is owned by) a mind' to 'every idea de-
pends upon (= is caused by) a mind'; and one was the
passage in the third dialogue, p. 193, where Berkeley ex-
ploits the ambiguity in reverse, in his one clear presenta-
tion of the continuity argument, moving from 'some ideas
do not depend upon (= are not caused by) my mind' to
'some ideas do not depend upon (= are not owned by) my
mind'. The fourth use of 'depend' which was omitted
from my list of straightforward cases is the one in the
second-dialogue passage now under discussion, and it may
be that this too should be treated as a mixed use of 'de-
pend', in which it does two things at once. But at least
let it be recognised that in this case the mixture is quite
different from the other three: each of the latter is clearly
and explicitly concerned both with the ownership and
with the causation of ideas, and the ambiguity of 'depend'
is there invoked, in order to explain how Berkeley is (or, in
the first case, how his opponents are) trying to bring the
two things together. In the 'false imaginary glare' passage,
however, the only explicit reference to ownership admits
of a perfectly good explanation as relevant to the criticism
of Hylas's definition of 'real': there is no need to say that
'depend' is used ambiguously here, except the need cre-
ated by an antecedent prejudice in favour of taking this
passage to express the continuity argument.

THE ANSWERS TO QUESTIONS (2) AND (4)

Berkeley addresses himself to (a) the accusation that

on his principles the sensible world is robbed of its reality,
and (b) the accusation that on his principles the sensible
~orld flickers in and out of existence as one wakes and
sleeps, opens and shuts one's eyes, and the like. He cares
deeply about (a), and is at great pains to rebut it by an
account of the correct meaning of 'real', an account which,
since it defines 'real' only for ideas which one does have,
has no bearing on the question of whether any ideas exist
Berkeley and God 399
which one does not have. Not only is Berkeley manifestly
anxious to rebut (a), but he also takes this to be the focus
of the one argument which he strenuously advances for
the existence of God.
His treatment of (b), apart from two sentences in the
third dialogue, is uniformly relaxed and agnostic. He
would as soon say that (b) is meaningless as say that (b)
does not follow from his principles; he rests no weight on
the claim that he is not committed to (b); and he most
certainly does not-with the one tiny exception already
noted-argue from the falsity of (b) to the existence of
God. He does in fact have a reason for saying that, God
or no God, (b) is meaningless. For he has an argument
whose conclusion is that one cannot make sense of talk
about an idea's existing while not in one's own mind. The
argument is extremely bad, but Berkeley liked it well
enough to use full-dress versions of it in both his major
works-in Principles §:Z3 and in the first dialogue, pp.
163-64-which is more than he did for the continuity
argument.
My second and fourth questions, then, may be answered
as follows. Berkeley makes so little of the continuity argu-
ment, and is so silent about its relationship to the passivity
argument, because he does not seriously wish to employ
the continuity argument at all. Not only is Berkeley un-
interested in arguing from the continuity of objects to the
existence of God; he is not even interested' in arguing
strenuously from the existence of God to the possible con-
tinuity of objects. Those who think otherwise-those who
accept the limericks' account of Berkeley's thought on
continuity-have not attended carefully enough to what he
actually wrote.
BERKELEY AND THE TREE IN THE QUAD
E. J. FURLONG

Why did Berkeley believe that the tree continues to be

when no one's about in the quad? Or, to quote from Mr
Jonathan Bennett's stimulating and provocative article
(,Berkeley and God', reprinted in this volume, pp. 380-
99), 'Why does Berkeley, in the continuity argument
[for God's existence], allow himself the premiss that ob-
jects exist while not perceived by any human?' Mr Bennett
continues: 'A possible answer is that this is such a deep-
rooted, normal human assumption that Berkeley could not
help making it even though he could not, on his own
philosophical principles, be entitled to make it. . • . This
strikes me as false. In many places, Berkeley calmly says
that if we clear our minds we shall see that we have no
grounds for believing in the existence of objects while
they are unperceived.' And Mr Bennett refers to Principles
§ 4 and § 6, quoting from the latter a passage which ends
'. . . they must either have no existence at all, or else
subsist in the mind of some eternal spirit'. 'These are not
the words of someone', Mr Bennett comments, 'who
would add that since objects do exist when not perceived
by created spirits therefore there must be an eternal spirit
which perceives them' (p. 389).
Mr Bennett also refers to Principles §§ 45-8 where
Berkeley discusses at length the intermittency objection to
his philosophy. We might well think that in these para-
graphs Berkeley's procedure is as follows: first, he asks, has
not his esse est percipi been proved to the hilt, no matter
how strange its consequences? then (§ § 46-7) he argues
From Phi!oSO/Jhy, Vol. XLI (1966). Reprinted, with minor
corrections, by permission of the author and Philosophy.
Berkeley and the Tree in the Quad 401

ad hominem that other theories are certainly liable to the

intennittency objection; but finally (§ 48), having played
sufficiently with the objection, he acts on his note-books
maxim to 'bring the killing blow at the last': rounding on
his objector he declares that the objection does not in fact
do any damage to the Berke1eian theory. 'For thO we hold
indeed the objects of sense to be nothing else but ideas
which cannot exist unperceiv'd: yet we may not hence
conclude they have no existence except only while they
are perceiv'd by us, since there may be some other spirit
that perceives them, tha we do not. . . . It does not there-
fore follow from the foregoing principles, that bodies are
annihilated and created every moment.' Mr Bennett, how-
ever, takes a different view of § 48. 'The crucial expres-
sions', he writes, 'are "we may not hence conclude", "there
may be some other spirit", "it does not therefore follow".
These are not the words of someone who proposes to base
the continuity argument on the absurdity of denying that
objects have a continuous existence' (italics Mr Ben-
nett's). In fact, 'Berkeley resolutely, and mockingly, re-
fuses to say that it [intennittency] is absurd'.
Mr Bennett considers that we have to wait till the third
of the Three dialogues for an argument by Berkeley that
objects continue to be when unperceived by us. In the
Principles Berkeley 'cares deeply about' the 'reality' of
sensible things but their continuity is 'not for him a mat-
ter of urgency or anxiety or even much interest'. (p. 394)
Now Mr Bennett is certainly right in claiming that in
the Principles Berkeley does not state his continuity argu-
ment for God's existence: he gives only what Mr Bennett
calIs his 'passivity argument'-the argument to God as the
cause of the 'continual succession of ideas' (§ 26). We
have to wait till the Three dialogues for a statement of the
continuity argument. But is Mr Bennett correct in his view
that Berkeley, when writing the Principles, did not care
very much about the continuity of sensible things? 'There
may be some other spirit'. Is the 'may' a casual, detached,
for-alI-l-care 'may?' or is it a suggestive 'may', a 'may' of
402 E. 1. Furlong
understatement, of confidence-the quizzical 'may' of the
man who knows the way out of the maze, 'You may get
out if you try that path'?

Was Berkeley unconcerned about intermittency?

At this point one naturally enquires, do Berkeley's not&
books throw any light on our query? Do they indicate
whether he is likely to have used a casual 'may', as Mr
Bennett argues, or a suggestive 'may', as others have
thought? The not&books have numerous references to the
topic. But before we consider them there is a general
point that may be conveniently made here. Berkeley was
certainly anxious to show in both his Principles and his
Three dialogues, that his system took nothing from the
reality of things-and he was rightly anxious, as the reac-
tions of such plain men as Dr Johnson were to show. Now
a plain man, offered a currant bun which he was assured
by Berkeley was perfectly real, would be somewhat uneasy
if he were also informed that on Berkeley's philosophy the
bun had an intermittent existence. How can I digest it?
How will it nourish me? he might well ask. It is prima
facie hardly likely that Berkeley should be concerned about
the reality of sensible things, but indifferent to their con-
tinuity. And we might note that one of his criteria for the
real as opposed to the imaginary is constancy (Principles
§ 33). Constancy is not "the same thing as continuity, but
they are near allied.
To return now to the note-books evidence. Here is a
list of the relevant entries: 1 98, 185, 185a, 194, 293a,
408, 424a, 429, 4293, 472, 473, 477a, 801, 802. These
entries refer directly to our topic; others bear on it indi-
rectly. Berkeley's thought on the subject, as on many other
subjects during that remarkable year of discovery when his
not&books were written, shows a stnKing development, in-
1 The references are to Dr Luce's diplomatic edition, Berke-
ley's philosophical commentaries (1944 ). I shall refer to it as
P.C. I am obliged to Dr Luce and to Dr G. E. Davie for com-
ments on a draft of this paper.
Berkeley and the Tree in the Quad 403
deed revolution-an instance of what Dr Luce has recently
called 'the dialectic of immaterialism'. Let us look at typi-
cal landmarks in the journey.
+ On account of my doctrine the identity of finite
substances must consist in something else than
continued existence, or relation to determin'd
time and place of beginning to exist. the exist-
ence of our thoughts (web being combin'd make
all substances) being frequently interrupted, &
they having divers beginnings, & endings.
(Entry 194)
+ Bodies taken for Powers do exist wD not per-
ceiv'd but this existence is not actual. wn I say
a power exists no more is meant than that if in
Y" light I open my eyes & look that way I shall
see it i.e. Y" body &c. (Entry 293a)
M or mther why he [a Cartesian] supposes all Y"
Matter, for bodies & their qualitys I do allow to
exist independently of Our mind. (Entry 477a)
P I differ from the Cartesians in that I make ex-
tension, Colour etc to exist really in Bodies & in-
dependent of Our Mind. All y. carefully & lu-
cidly to be set forth. (Entry 801)
M.P Not to mention the Combinations of Powers
but to say the things the effects themselves to
really exist even WD not actually perceiv'd but
still with relation to perception. (Entry 802)
The import of these entries is not hard to see. Entry
194 shows Berkeley clearly committed to intermittency.
Entry 293a allows a hypothetical, non-actual existence to
bodies when not perceived. Their actual existence is still
intermittent. But, it will be observed, both these entries
have the marginal sign +, which means 'reject'.2 And when
we come to entry 477a we find that Berkeley is, by impli-
2 See P.C., pp. xxvf. and A. A. Luce, The dialectic of im-
materialism, p. 24. Chapter IX of the latter book deals fully with
intermittency in the note-books.
404 E. ,. Furlong
cation, distinguishing between 'Our mind' and-though he
does· not say so, but what else can it be? -God's mind.
When he writes entry 801 he is allowing an actual exist-
ence even to colours 'independent of Our Mind'. And
entry 802 is a direct repudiation of the hypothetical exist-
ence view stated in 293a.
It is plain then that at the end of his Dote-book thinking
Berkeley was quite sure that the tree continues to be when
no one's about in the quad. He had found a way, by dis-
tinguishing between our mind and some other mind, of
having the best of both worlds-of 'siding with the Mob'
and at the same time retaining esse est percipi. When
he had written his 'intermittency entries' 194 and 293a it
had looked as if esse est percipi and the commonsense
belief in non-intermittency were incompatible. Now he
has found, to his relief, that they are compatible. And he
states this achievement as a point in his favour as com-
pared with the Cartesians. This is not the claim of one
who was unconcerned about intermittency. It follows that
when Berkeley says in the Principles passage we were dis-
cussing, 'we may not hence conclude they have no exist-
ence except only while they are perceiv'd by us', he would
have been quite prepared to substitute 'we must not hence
conclude' for 'we may not pence conclude'; and when he
writes 'since there may be ,some other spirit that perceives
them tho we do not', his 'may' is not, as Mr Bennett as-
serts, a casual, indifferent 'may' but rather a suggestive
'may', Socratically ironic. Or possibly we should put the
matter in a slightly different way. Berkeley, towards the
end of his note-books, had found, as we saw, tbat to accept
esse est /Jercipi does not imply giving up commonsense.
There is no inference from esse est percipi to intermit-
tency. 'We may not hence conclude •. .' The 'may' was
good enough for him. It ruled out the objectionable in-
ference. He would indeed have been prepared to go fur-
ther, and put 'must' for 'may', but, with his fine sense of
logic and drama, he used tlle minimum term the context
needed.
Berkeley and the Tree in the Quad 405
We have seen how Berkeley's thought on intennittency
changed in his note-books to the position he was to pub-
lish in the Principles. But the change did not stop there.
As we noted already, we have to wait till the Three dia-
logues for the continuity argument. We might chart the
whole process of thinking in the following stages:
Note-book entries 194, 293a: intennittency allowed
to be a consequence of esse est percipi (c. autumn
170 7)'
Note-book entries 801, 802 and Principles §48: inter-
mittency denied to be a consequence of esse est
percipi because God may perceive things when we do
not; i.e. God exists (why? the passivity argument)
and may perceive when we do not, therefore there is
no clash between esse est percifJi and commonsense
(c. summer 1708-spring 1710).
Three dialogues (Works, ed. Luce and Jessop, vol. 2,
pp. 230-1): intennittency is false, continuity is true,
i.e. commonsense is to be accepted, therefore God
exists (c. 1712-13).
We might put the process of thought this way. First,
commonsenSe and esse est percipi are believed to clash;
since esse est percipi is intuitively true, commonsense
must go (p.e. 194, 293a: there is an echo of this assertion
in Principles § 45). Then it is seen that commonsense
can be rescued (p.e. 801, 802, Principles § 48). Finally
it is claimed that commonsense can be used as a premiss.
We have in tum the relations of exclusion, compatibility
and entailment.
(It should, perhaps, be added that Berkeley's common-
sense belief in the continuity of objects did not prevent
him from offering, by implication, a highly-refined lI;naly-
sis of what this continuity consists in; Works, vol. 2, pp.
245-48. He does, indeed, claim that his account of same-
ness in this connexion does not 'deviate either from pro-
priety of language or the truth of things'. He may be un-
duly hopeful here; still, what in fact does the plain man
believe about the colour of the leaves on the tree in the
quad when unobserved, or at 3 A:M..?)
o
406 E. J. Furlong

What right had Berkeley to his belief in the continuity

of objects?
What I have so far been mainly concerned to argue, as
against Mr Bennett, is that when Berkeley wrote the Prin-
ciples he did believe in, and care about, the continuity of
objects. But there is also the question of logic: what right
had Berkeley to his commonsense belief in continuity?
Does he offer any argument to support his position? We
might well think that he does not. But Mr Bennett points
out that in the Three dialogues statement of the continu-
ity argument Berkeley does give a reason for his belief in
continuity. 'It is plain', says Philonous, 'they [sensible
things] have an existence exterior to my mind, since I
find them by experience to be independent of it. There is
therefore some other mind wherein they exist, during the
intervals between the times of my perceiving them.' Berke-
ley here infers from 'independent of my mind', i.e. not
produced by me, to existing unperceived by me. (It is an
argument from what Hume will call 'distinct' existence to
'continued' existence.) The argument is indeed very shaky,
but an argument it is, and Mr Bennett has rendered a
service in drawing attention to it and to the ambiguities in
the verb 'depend' which Berkeley's reasoning at key-points
exhibits. (Bennett, 01'. cit., pp. 387, 391.)

Did Berkeley clearly distinguish in the Principles and

Three dialogues two arguments for the existence of God?
Mr Bennett asks why, if continuity were important to
Berkeley, he makes so little of the continuity argument for
God's existence, devoting in all but two (or three) sen-
tences to it. The 'false imaginary glare' passage in the sec-
ond of the Three dialogues, Mr Bennett holds, includes a
statement, not of the continuity argument, but of the
passivity argument: Berkeley here, as elsewhere, is much
more concerned with the reality of sensible things, ex-
plained by reference to their production, than with their
continuity. Mr Bennett does allow, indeed, that 'if some-
Berkeley and the Tree in the Quad 407
one still insists that in this passage Berkeley is neverthe-
less also thinking of the continuity argument and con flat-
ing it with the passivity argument, I cannot prove him
wrong'. Prompted by this concession, I think we might
wonder whether Berkeley was aware explicitly of the con-
tinuity and passivity arguments as two separate proofs or
whether he did not think of them as two complementary
pieces of reasoning. The continuity argument, he might
have thought, puts the stress on perceiving, the passivity
argument on wiIIing. And we know from the protracted
debate in his second note-book how closely connected he
held perceiving, or thinking, and wiIIing, to be. The three-
sentence statement of the continuity argument, where the
stress is on perception, concludes that there is an omni-
present eternal Mind, which 'knows and comprehends all
things and exhibits them to our view . . .' (italics mine).
The conclusion is to both a knowing and an active or will-
ing being-to a conserver as well as a creator. If I am right
in suggesting that Berkeley did not think of the continuity
argument as clearly different from the passivity argument
this would explain why he does not draw special attention
to the former. s
To sum up-the main points I have made are as follows:
1. Mr Bennett asserts that in the Principles Berkeley
shows little concern for the continuity of sensible things,
their non-intermittent existence. I have argued that his
note-books show per contra, that while he began by accept-
ing intermittency as an implication of esse est percipi he
came to see-with relief-that the implication could be
avoided: he could both hold on to the intuitive truth of
esse est percipi and also accept the continuity of sensible
things. This is the position he adopted in the Principles.
In the Three dialogues he goes further, and uses the con-
tinuity of objects as a premiss from which to infer the
existence of God.
S E. A. SiIlem, chap. 6 in George Berkeley and the proofs fOT
the existence of God (Longmans, 1957), goes so fat as to treat
the two arguments as if they were in fact one. (He notes also
the argument in A1ciphron IV, a blend of Berkeley's earlier think-
ing (in part) and the usual argument from, or to, design.)
408 E. 1. Furlong
2. I accept Mr Bennett's point that in the Three dia-
logues Berkeley gives an argument, though not a valid one,
for the continuity of objects.
3. I have suggested that Berkeley saw the continuity
and passivity arguments as two complementary portions of
the one proof, rather than as two separate pieces of rea-
soning.
 BERKELEY ON "ABSTRACT IDEAS"
MONROE C. BEARDSLEY

There are three propositions which I hope to demon-

strate by the present argument. I contend (in Section II)
that Berkeley's attack on abstract ideas is not made wholly
compatible with his atomistic sensationalism; (in Section
III) that Berkeley does not provide or employ a single
definite criterion for determining the limit of abstraction;
and (in Section IV) that the doctrine of abstract ideas
furnishes no real support to Berkeley's argument against
the 'existence of material substance independent of per-
ception. By "the doctrine of abstract ideas" I mean "the
theory that there are no abstract ideas". But what sort of
an idea would be an "abstract idea"? It would be one
which "we are told"1 by its defenders is achieved by ab-
straction; therefore it is this process which we must first
consider.
Abstraction begins with an experienced thing (that is, a
collection of qualities or ideas), and the first step (i) of
the process occurs when the mind makes one quality the
object of special attention. If a particular thing T' consists
of qualities Q1. 02. Q3, we can, Berkeley holds, "dis-
tinguish" and "consider" only Q1 and ignore the other
qualities of T, though they are co-present with Q1 in our
experience.2 But he denies that we can perform the second
step (ii), that of "resolving" T "into its simple, constituent
parts, and viewing each by itself, exclusive of the rest".a
From Mind, Vol. LII (1943). Reprinted by pennission of the
author and Mind.
1 Principles, Introduction, section 7.
2Ibid., Intro., sec. 16. 8 Ibid., Intro., sec. 7.
410 Monroe C. Beardsley
If Ql could be thus "singled" out4 and "framed" by the
mind in separation from the other qualities, it would be
an abstract idea. But such an idea does not OCCur as an
element in consciousness. It is to be noted that in the
second step the abstract idea would be merely the original
idea conceived in isolation; it would not be a new idea.
But we do not know precisely what the isolation must
be in order that the idea may be truly abstract, and it is
not easy to determine what Berkeley means by "exclusive
of the rest". (a) If we understand these words literally, he
says that the abstracted quality Ql cannot occur as an
element in consciousness unless the qualities Q2 and Qa
also occur with it (for these are "the rest"). To give an
example, if T has the qualities square, red, and moving,
then this square cannot occur later in consciousness unless
this red and this moving accompany it. But Berkeley ob-
viously does not mean this, since he admits that we are
capable of "variously compounding and dividing" our
ideas, and this rule would prohibit the imagining of a
centaurli Or a "blue horse".6 (b) We might interpret him
to mean that Ql cannot occur later without being accom-
panied by any idea at all; yet this would be too trivial for
his purpose. (c) The best interpretation I can suggest then
is the following one. Berkeley seems to mean that whatever
qualities (including Q2 and Qa) may be absent from a
later thought of Qb we cannot think of Ql without at
the same time thinking of such other ideas as will, with
Qb constitute a complex idea of a particular thing. That
is, if Ql is originally perceived as part of a thing (1'),
then it can only be conceived later as part of a thing. To
say that there is no abstract idea of a particular red is to
say that there is no idea of that red apart from a thing.
We may then define in a preliminary way the abstract idea
of Type A: it is a particular idea perceived as a quality of
a thing and later (supposedly) conceived without any
thing which it qualifies.
4 Commonplace Book 141; ed. G. A. Johnston (London,
1930); hereafter cited as CPB.
ij Prin., Intro., sec. 10. 6 ePB 766.
Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas" 411
The second type of abstract idea requires (iii) a third
step, by which 7 abstract ideas of Type A are themselves
compared with each other, so that from a given class of
abstract ideas we frame "a most abstract idea" which is
not merely abstract, but also general. That is, given QG
(the abstract red) and Qb, Q., other abstract ideas, blue,
green, yellow, etc., the mind frames an "abstract general
idea", colour, which is not any particular colour, but is all
and none of them. In this case there is a "twofold abstrac-
tion":8 the particular colours are abstracted from particu-
lar objects, and then the general idea colour is abstracted
from classes of the particular colours. It is to be noted
that the abstract ideas of Type B would be new ideas
created by the mind; in the third step the mind does not
merely select what is common to all particular colours, but
fonns an idea of colour that is not one of the simple ideas
perceived as part of a given coloured object. In the case of
T, colour is not a "constituent" idea (like red or square)
that could be "considered" and later segregated; it could
never be abstracted from things save by comparison of an
idea abstracted from a thing with other abstract ideas.
Therefore the fonnation of abstract general ideas of Type
B would depend on and presuppose the prior fonnation of
abstract ideas of Type A.
The abstract idea of Type B is still a simple idea, a
quality; that of Type C is a complex idea of a "being", such
as man or humanity. In this case "several co-existent quali-
ties" of each thing9 are abstracted (as in Type A), then
each complex of qualities is compared with others (as in
Type B), and another idea is fonned which is in effect a
complex of ideas of Type B, and like them is a new ab-
stract general idea. Now it is, I think, fairly obvious that
Berkeley's attack on abstract ideas is specifically directed
against abstract general ideas (of Types Band C); at them
Berkeley delivered his "killing blow".I0 For (a) they are
the ones which are "contradictory"ll and "inconsistent"
(Locke's tenn), and (b) Berkeley regarded his theory of
7 Prin., Intro., sec. 8. 8 Ibid., sec. 99.
D Prin., Intro., sec. 9. 10 CPB &)9. 11 CPB 566.
412 Monroe C. Beardsley
signs as supplying all that was required of these abstract
general ideas, namely, a theory of the manner in which
particular ideas can become general. But he saw that ideas
of Types Band C are formed upon the prior step (ii) ,
which yields ideas of Type A; and when he came to ex-
amine the ideas of Type A he rejected them as well. He
rejected them, not because our ability to frame ideas of
Type A implies our ability to frame ideas of Types B
and C (that is clearly not the case), but because the pur-
pose to which he decided to put his critique of abstraction
seemed to require that he reject the first type as well. At
an earlier stage of thought12 Berkeley had noted that
.. 'Tis one thing to abstract one concrete idea from another
of a different kind, & another thing to abstract an idea
from all particulars of the same kind", thus recognising the
distinction between Type A and Types Band C. But in
the Principles both are condemned.
Berkeley sometimes writes, in giving illustrations of ab-
stract ideas, as though he meant that there are certain
abstract ideas that cannot be abstracted from other ab-
stract ideas, as when he says that the mind cannot "frame
to itself by abstraction the idea of colour exclusive of ex-
tension".13 But he is, of course, always referring to a par-
ticular colour (Ql) and a particular extension (Q2) in a
particular thing, and saying that neither of these can be-
come ideas of Type A. It is not that we cannot think of
colour without thinking of extension, but that we cannot
think of a particular colour without thinking of some par-
ticular extension. The doctrine of abstract ideas can then
be expressed in this precise form: there are certain classes
of id~s such that no member of one class can be thought
of at a given time unless at least one member of the other
class is thought of at the same time. To' say that shape
cannot be abstracted from colour is to say that if idea x
is a member of C. (the class of all particular shapes) and
x occurs as an element of consciousness, then there will be
some idea y such that y is a member of Co (the class of all
12CPB 499. 18 Prin., Intro., sec. 7.
Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas" 413
particular colours) and y accompanies x. The phrase "ele-
ment of consciousness" is meant to include in its denota-
tion thoughts of all sorts (images, concepts, ideas). For
Berkeley would not merely hold that x could not be an
image without y; he would say what he says of extension:
"I do not find that 1 can perceive, imagine, or anywise
frame in my mind such an abstract idea".14

II

With the above preliminaries we can approach the first

question: that concerning the relation of the doctrine of
abstract ideas to the general framework of Berkeley'S epis-
temology. From this point on, when 1 speak of "abstract
ideas" I shall be referring only to ideas of Type A. Those
ideas become abstract when they are separated from
things. But when we examine Berkeley's conception of
what constitutes a thing, it becomes something of a prob-
lem to decide why these ideas should' not be separable
from things. Berkeley's view of perception does not seem
to permit, much less necessitate, his doctrine of abstract
ideas.
The difficulty may be stated thus. Berkeley's definition
of the word "thing"-exclusive of spirits, which come un-
der the most general range of "thing"IILis given in the
first section of the Principles (Part I). My senses, he says,
furnish me in their separate ways with various ideas, "and
as several of these are observed to accompany each other,
they come to be marked by one name, and so to be re-
puted as one thing".16 A "sensible thing" is a "collection"
or "congeries"17 of ideas "blended or combined to-
gether".18 When the ideas first appear to the mind they
14 Theory of Vision, sec. 123.
15 See Prin., sec. 8<),
and CPB 653. 16 Prin., sec. 1.
17 Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, III; in the
Selections ed. by Mary W. Calkins, Scribner's Modem Student's
Library (N.Y. 19 2 9), p. 324.
18 Prin., sec. 3.
o·
414 Monroe C. Beardsley
come through various senses, by various channels; they are
distinct and several, for they are observed severally to go
together, and they may be "apprehended by divers senses,
or by the same sense at different times, or in different cir-
cumstances".19 Then they arc "united into one thing by
the mind".20 It is the mind which gives them a substan-
tial unity, and a name, and the mind is led to do this, not
by any intrinsic relation among the ideas, but by extrinsic
spatial and temporal relations; men, says Berkeley, select
those collections of ideas which are "observed, however, to
have some connexion in nature, either with respect to' co-
existence or succession; all which they refer to one name,
and consider as one thing".21
If this is a true account of the manner in which Q1>
Q2, and Qs came to constitute T, then we may ask with
some surprise why the mind cannot abstract Q1' Why can
there not be abstract ideas of Type A? If things are "arbi-
trarily put together by the mind",22 they should perhaps
be arbitrarily separable by the same mind; if the ideas
originally entered the mind as separated and discrete, it
is strange that the mind should so tightly have bound
them together that they can never occur again in the mind
as separated and discrete. There are two explanations of
this phenomenon which might be urged on Berkeley's be-
half. (1) It might be said that there is an intrinsic and
necessary connection between ideas as they are perceived
and that the mind is to some extent guided by insight into
this connection, in learning about objects. Then certain
sorts of abstraction would be impossible. But Berkeley
holds that we cannot discover any necessary' connection
between our ideas;2s their only connections are adventi-
tious and external. We know, and need only know, rela-
tions of "co-existence and succession" in order to form
things.24 As for a priori principles-such as one asserting
a necessary connection between colour and extension-
19 Three Dialogue" III, p. 319.
21) Ibid., III, p. 320; see also p. 324. 21 Ibid., III, p. 319.
22 Prin., sec. n. 2S Ibid., sec. 31; see also CPB ~6.
M See CPB 752.
 Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas" 415
these principles (since they would have to be expressed in
abstract tenns) would be particularly abhorrent to Berke-
ley's basic position. (2) It is true that in the case of some
of the rejected abstract ideas Berkeley could say that these
cannot be abstract ideas because they are not ideas at all.
This is true of abstract general ideas like colour and hu-
manity, as I have explained above. What is not perceived
as one of the distinct qualities of T naturally cannot later
be ahstracted from T and conceived as a separate quality.
In this way Berkeley can account for our inability to ab-
stract some ideas, and if he were to apply this account to
all ideas that cannot be abstracted, he would be adopting
Hume's c1early-stated maxim, "all ideas which are differ-
ent are separable". But it appears that, though Berkeley
wavers on this point, he does not ultimately intend to
maintain this general principle; and in certain crucial cases
he does not apply it.
As an example we may take motion. Berkeley some-
times speaks as though a particular motion is an idea we
acquire through sight, but an idea that is not abstractable
from particular extensions and shapes. 21l Now Berkeley
also says that every motion includes relation,28 and rela-
tions are not ideas at all.27 But whether a motion be "not
one idea",28 or "on 2d thoughts" a "simple idea",29 Berke-
ley never definitely suggests that its unabstractability is a
consequence of its not being an idea at all. But this is not
the case with extension. First we must note Berkeley's
statement that "the mind, 'tis true, can consider one thing
without another; but then, considered asunder, they make
not 2 ideas. Both together can make but one, as for in-
stance colour & visible extension."so This seems to mean
that in perception we cannot even distinguish or discrimi-
nate two ideas, extension and colour, as particular ele-
mel,lts of a plane figure. Here Berkeley veI'ID'!s close upon
Hume's position. For though we may, he holds, distinguish
25 See CPB 877, 449, and also Free·Thinking in Mathem4tics,
sec. 20.
28 Prin., sec. 112. 27 Ibid., sec. 89. 28 CPB 188.
29 CPB 448. so CPB 330 •
416 Monroe C. Beardsley
between two kinds of visible extension, the mathematical
and the common,31 the former may be defined as simply
the co-existence of point-perceptions;32 and the latter,S3
is not a visual idea at all, Berkeley says in some places, for
there is nO "idea intromitted immediately and properly
by sight save only light and colours".34 Thus, in a particu-
lar object T, the shape square is, on this hypothesis, not
an idea at all: "in a strict sense, I see nothing but light
and colours".s~ Now if this is Berkeley's position, then it
would explain why colours and shapes, for example, can-
not be abstracted: because they are the same idea. But
Berkeley does not consistently adopt this standpoint; it is
more in accord with the general position of the first part of
the Principles when we find him referring to the extension,
colour, and motion as "simple, constituent parts" of a
particular object,36 or when we find him speaking of "a
certain colour, taste, smell, figure and consistence having
been observed to go together",37 which could not occur if
they were not discriminable ideas. Finally, we may observe
that if two particular ideas are unabstmctable because
they are identical, then neither can be "considered" in it-
self, and Berkeley's explanation of the manner in which
we come to make words and thoughts general presupposes
our ability to consider the particular ideas which Berkeley
holds to be unabstractable. For these reasons I submit
(a) that in both the Principles and the Dialogues Berkeley
regards the particular unabstractable ideas as genuine
ideas, and (b) that he offers no explanation of the impos-
sibility of abstraction in these cases.
s1CPB 396•
82 CPB 295, 437, passages worth careful comparison with
Hume's treatment of space and time. Berkeley adds that exten-
sion may also be defined as ''length without breadth", which in
some places he calls an "abstract" idea (CPB 263, 485, 385),
and in other places no idea at all (CPB 384). In this last pas-
sage Berkeley significantly suggests that "It seems to consist in
meer proportion-meer reference of the mind".
88 CPB 459. 84 Theory 1)/ Vision, sec. 130. 8li Ibid.
I. Prin., lntro., sec. 7. 87 Ibid., sec. 1.
Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas" 417

III

1 have presented reasons for asserting that Berkeley's

doctrine of abstract ideas derives no justification from his
theory of perception and is even in contradiction with it.
But even if we were to grant that he is right in holding
that there are some ideas which are not abstractable, we
would still have to enquire how we may know which ones
are not abstractable. The obvious reply to this is an appeal
(which Berkeley often makes) to immediate experience;
but since his whole purpose (that of removing ancient
prejudices about abstract ideas) presupposes that the com-
mon run of philosophers have misinterpreted their own
experience, this appeal does not suffice.8s Berkeley must
provide a principle by which abstractable ideas are dis-
tinguished from non-abstractable ones, and by which the
difference between them is made clear. We may put the
question in other words: if qualities cannot be conceived
apart from things, how do we know which collections
of ideas may be things? What defines the limit of ab-
straction?
To this question Berkeley has an answer, but it is not a
univocal one. "I do not deny it [the mind] may abstract
in a certain sense", says Euphranor,39 "inasmuch as those
things that can really exist, or be really perceived asunder,
may be conceived asunder, or abstracted one from the
other." One interpretation to which this passage lends it-
self is, 1 submit, the following. A person may abstract
those, and only those, ideas which experience indicates to
be separable in fact, or to belong to classes of ideas which
are separable in fact. If I have perceived at least one par-
ticular shape without any sort of motion at all, then I may
38 Berkeley tacitly admits this, for example, when in writing to
Samuel Johnson about the abstract idea of existence, he remarks,
"I cannot find 1 have any such idea, and this is my reason against
it . . ." (24 March, 1730; given in Works, ed. A. C. Fraser,
Oxford, 1901; II, 20); see also CPB 615.
89 Alciphron, VII, 5; Works, II, 328.
418 Monroe C. Beardsley
later conceive any particular shape without conceiving of
any motion in it. Conversely, if every particular motion I
have perceived has been accompanied by some shape (that
of the thing moved), then I cannot abstractly conceive any
particular motion without conceiving along with it some
shape. This interpretation I shall call Principle A, defining
it as follows: The ideas of Class C 1 are abstractable (in
the sense of Type A) from the ideas of Class C 2 if and
only if (i) there is an idea x such that x is a member of
C h and x was perceived at time t, and (ii) there is no y
such that y is a member of C 2, and y was perceived at
time t, conjoined with x. To illustrate this Principle: it
would imply that motions are not abstractable from
shapes, but shapes are abstractable from motions; that
colours and shapes are not abstractable from each other;
and that, if I have perceived, for example, an electric
light bulb apart from a socket, then I may conceive any
electric light bulb apart from its socket. So far, Principle
A seems to suit Berkeley;s purpose and to represent his
meaning faithfully.
But if it is closely examined, difficulties appear. "I can",
says Berkeley,40 consider the hand, the eye, the nose,
each by itself abstracted or separated from the rest of the
body"; and he evidently expects us to be able to perform
the same feat. Similarly, he says that he is able to conceive
a human head without a body, a human trunk without
limbs, and a rose's smell without a rose, though he has
not, he implies, perceived the members of these pairs
separately. For, he reports, "I may, indeed, divide in my
thoughts, or conceive apart from each other, those things
which perhaps I never perceived by sense so divided".41
Therefore Principle A is really too narrow for Berkeley's
purpose; it limits abstraction too much and leaves too
little freedom for the imagination. Moreover, Principle A
involves a relativity for which there is no room in Berke-
ley's system. It must be stated in terms of every indi-
vidual person's own experience, which bounds his ability
to conceive abstractly; and as far as Berkeley's own experi-
40 Prin., Intro., sec. 10. 41 Ibid., sec. s.
Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas" 419
ence goes he can therefore never be certain (as he appears
to be) that Locke and Hylas have never experienced any
colour without extension or any motion without a thing
that moves.
Therefore Principle A is not enough for Berkeley; and
indeed there is another interpretation of the Alciphron
passage which seems to represent Berkeley's intention
more truly. The limit of abstraction, according to this
principle, depends not on what actually has occurred in
experience, but on what may possibly occur. That is, ab-
straction "extends only to the conceiving separately such
objects as it is possible may really exist or be actually per-
ceived asunder".42 This principle is, of course, wider than
Principle A, for it permits us to abstract what has not
been perceived in separation but mi;;ht be perceived in
separation (such as the human nose or the human eye).
We then may define Principle B as follows: The ideas of
Class C 1 are abstractable from the ideas of Class C2 if
and only if it is not impossible that the following is true:
(i) there is an idea x such that x is a member of C h and
x is perceived at time t, and (ii) there is no y such that y
is a member of C2, and y is perceived at time t, conjoined
with x.
The trouble with Principle B is that it does not help us
to decide just what ideas are abstractable, and what not.
For how are we to know which combinations of ideas
(objects) are possible or impossible? Experience, Berkeley
admits, reveals no such absolute necessities. The only way
we know (if indeed we do know) that colours and shapes
cannot possibly ever be perceived or exist in separation is
by consulting our own minds and asking whether we can
conceive them to be perceived or to exist separately. But
if we decide whether they can be conceived abstractly by
determining whether they can exist separately, and then
decide whether they can exist separately by determining
whether we can conceive them to exist separately, and
then decide whether we can conceive them to exist sepa-
rately by determining whether we can conceive them sepa-
42 Prin., Intra., sec. 5; see also Intro., sec. 10.
420 Monroe C. Beardsley
rately, then our decision in any particular case is thor-
oughly circular. 43 The only escape from this circularity
would be to say that they cannot be conceived separately
because they have not in fact existed in separation; but
this makes Principle B equivalent to Principle A. And in
the absence of this conversion of Principle B into Prin-
ciple A, Principle B really is not an informative principle
at all. But Principle A seems to be both doubtful and too
narrow for Berkeley's argument.

IV

At various points in his refutation of realism Berkeley

insists (a) that the prevalence of this erroneous belief
among philosophers has chiefly been due to their uncriti-
cal assumption that we possess abstract (and abstract gen-
eral) ideas, and (b) that the untenability of the belief is
clearly exposed when we realise that we do not possess
abstract ideas. There is no doubt that Berkeley regarded
his doctrine of abstract ideas (as well as his doctrine of
abstract general ideas, which I shall not discuss) as an
essential ground of his immaterialism. So insistent is he on
this point that we should expect the connection between
his idealism and his doctrine of abstract ideas to be quite
plain. There are, however, fatal obscurities in this con-
nection, and the more seriously one considers them the
more significance one discovers in Hume's position in the
first and second parts of the Treatise, Book I.
The provoking situation we encounter in trying to trace
this connection is that Berkeley turns out (even at the
early stage of development represented in the CPB) to be
employing the word "abstract" as a synonym for "non-
existent" and "unworthy"; and when he caps an argument
for idealism with a poke at abstraction, we readily dis-
cover, in some instances, that abstraction has nothing to
do with the case. For example, he declares that the object
43 This circularity is perhaps even more evident in that pas-
sage from the Alciphron, VII, 6, omitted from the 3rd ed.
(17P); see Works, II, 325 n.
Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas" 421

T cannot exist apart from t11e sensation of it, for the rea-
son that T cannot be abstracted from ilie sensation of it.
But his statementH iliat "ilie object and the sensation are
ilie same thing and cannot ilierefore be abstracted from
each other" seems to mean only iliat T cannot be ab-
stracted from Qb Q2, and Qs, since it is by definition just
ilie combination of iliem. But since T is just its combined
qualities (which are ideas), then T cannot even be dis-
tinguished from iliem (by step i), let alone abstracted
from iliem (by step ii), so it is difficult to see how Berke-
ley's doctrine that iliere are ideas which are distinguish-
able but not abstractable (that is, which may be "con-
sidered" but not "separated") is relevant to tlIe present
case. Moreover, it may be a fact that "when we do our
utmost to conceive the existence of txtemal bodies, we
are all ilie while only contemplating our own ideas",45 but
if we cannot do more ilian this, the important question
arises: how did we come to think we could?
We seem to be opening a more fundamental vein of
Berkeley's argument when we examine his statement that,
"as it is impossible for me to see or feel anytlIing without
an actual sensation of that thing, so is it impossible for
me to conceive in my thoughts any sensible iliing or object
distinct from the sensation or perception of it".46 This
assumes a shape different from tlIat of the argument just
considered, and at first seems -::learly to tum on ilie doc-
trine of abstract ideas. We believe (0) that we can con-
ceive a given object T as existing apart from ilie perc~p­
tion of it by someone; we make tlIis mistake because we
tlIink on superficial examination (b) tlIat we can have an
idea of T existing witlIout having any idea that T is being
perceived. But ilie fact is (c) iliat we have never perceived
T without perceiving it, and this fact (c), by Principle A.
makes proposition (b) false. Our belief (a) is tlIerefore
ungrounded, and it follows from a denial of (0) that T
cannot exist apart from our perception of it.
Now it is clear that tlIe crucial point of this argument
is ilie demonstration that ilie idea T existing cannot be
44 Prin., sec. 5. 45 Ibid., sec. 23.
48 Prin., sec. 5; see also Three Dialogues, I, pp. 261-26:z.
422 Monroe C. Beardsley
abstracted from the idea T being perceived. 47 When we
look about for Berkeley's demonstration, we discover that
he very often says quite explicitly (1) that the reason is,
that "the existence of an idea consists in being per-
ceived";48 that, in short, the ideas are the same. 49 To
be precise, we must heed his warning: "But it must be
well noted that existence is vulgarly restrain'd to actuall
perception, & that 1 use the word existence in a larger
sense than ordinary".50 We can then express this view by
the proposition that "T existing" is precisely identical in
meaning to "T being thought of" :n the widest sense
(Tex is T tb ): "This 1 am sure", remarks Berkeley, "I have
no idea of Existence, or allllext to the word Existence".51
That is, there is no unique idea of existence apart from
perception: "'Tis on the discovering of the nature & mean-
ing & import of Existence that 1 chiefly insist".52 Accord-
ing to this argument, then, "esse est percipi" is analytic;
1 have no abstract idea of Te" for the same reason tllat 1
have no abstract idea of colour: it is not an idea at al1.
Now this is a perfectly good argument, if it is Berkeley's
argument. What is noteworthy about it is that it owes
nothing to the doctrine of abstract ideas. Tex is so far
from being an abstract idea apart from Ttb that it is the
same idea; not only can it not be abstracted (by step ii)
from T tb , but, being identical with T tb, it could not (by
step i) even be "singled out" from T tb-indeed, it could
not even be "distinguish'd therefrom", as Berkeley ad-
mits. 53 If Berkeley's argument here is valid, then there
could indeed be no "nicer strain of abstraction than to
distinguish the existence of sensible objects from their
being perceived, so as to conceive them existing unper-
47 Since the idea T1 being perceived includes reference to a
self, which is a notion, the idea is perhaps more accurately called
a notion. This would make no significant difference as far as the
argument is concerned, I believe, since Berkeley holds also that
we have no "abstract notion" of the powers and acts of the self
apart from the self or apart from the self's ideas (Prin., sec. 143).
48 Ibid., sec. 2. 49 See ibid., sec. 3; CPB 404.
50 CPB 472; see also 471. 51 CPB 681; see also 680, 557.
52 CPB 493. 53 CPB 655.
Berkeley on "Abstrdct IdedS" 423
ceived".54 Indeed one "might as easily divide a thing
from itself', for that is precisely what one would be doing.
But if the conclusion is that "to exist is to be perceived"
is analytic, and for that reason true, it also follows that no
one would even distinguish existence from perception,
and therefore that no one could have been misled by the
belief in abstract ideas to think that it is possible to con-
ceive Tex in abstraction from T th •
As a matter of fact, Berkeley does not confine himself
to the argument that "esse est percipi" is analytic; he also
(2) holds to the position that it is synthetic. And this is
quite incompatible with the other position, for in this
case Tex is an idea, distinct from T th, but inseparable
from it. 55 This argument does depend upon the doctrine
of abstract ideas, as a statement of its steps discloses: (a)
When T is perceived it is accompanied by the idea (Tth)
that T is being thought of by someone; (b) no T has ever
been perceived without being accompanied by such an
idea; by (c) Principle A it follows that (d) T cannot later
be conceived without T til; therefore (e) T ex (since it
includes T) cannot be conceived without T th , and hence
(f) T cannot exist apart from being thought of.
We seem, then, to have discovered the point at which
Berkeley applies his doctrine of abstract ideas to the refu-
tation of realism. Step (f) of the above succinct version
of his argument depends upon considering T ex as an idea
distinguishable, but not abstractable, from T th • And yet
it seems clear that Berkeley himself has provided his own
answer to this argument. For we may ask whether steps
(d) and (e) are in fact correct; "surely there is nothing
easier than for me to imagine trees, for instance, in a park.
or books existing in a closet, and nobody by to perceive
them". To this Berkeley assents, 56 but he considers it ir-
relevant. It is no objection to his argument, he declares,
to say that I can frame the idea of things existing "at the
same time omitting to frame the idea of anyone that may
perceive them". This is only, he says, a case where "the
mind, taking no notice of itself, is deluded to think it can
54 Prin., sec. 5. 115 See ibid., sec. 6. 56 Prin., sec. :1 3.
424 Monroe C. BetITclsley
and does conceive bodies existing unthought of, or without
the mind, though at the same time they are apprehended
by, or exist in, itself'. But (and this is the crucial ques-
tion with respect to steps (d) and (e» is not this possi-
bility (which Berkeley here admits) that Tex may occur
in the absence of Tth (i.e., that we may frame Tex and
omit to frame T th ) precisely what the doctrine of ab-
stract ideas (as we have defined it in Section I above)
denies? In the case of colour and shape, Berkeley strives to
prove just this: that we cannot think of a colour without
thinking of some shape. If we apply this to the present
case, his argument must be that we cannot think of any
particular thing without thinking that it is being thought
of by someone. And yet in order to explain how philoso-
phers have been tricked into realism by their belief in
abstract ideas, Berkeley must (as in the passage above)
contradict his general principle by saying that we can think
of a particular thing without thinking that it is being
thought of.
There is one more instance of Berkeley's use of the doc-
trine of abstraction which requires notice here. At one
time he regarded the inseparability of the primary from
the secondary qualities as "the great argument"117 against
materialism. According to this view the erroneous belief
that extension and motion can be abstract ideas apart
from colours has been chiefly responsible for the error of
realiSID;1I8 and when it is realised that we cannot conceive
extension apart from colour, it will be understood that
extension cannot exist apart from colour; and since the
latter is admittedly subjective, so also must the former
be.lI11 In view of aU the preceding discussion this does not
call for much comment. For if the proposition (11) that I
have no abstract idea of extension apart from colour is
offered as ground for the proposition (b) that extension
cannot exist apart from colour, this inference can only be
effected by Principle B, as discussed in Section III. But
Principle B cannot be applied without either begging the
117 CPB %97. 68 CPB 380.
1111 Prin., sec. 10; see also Three Dialogues, I, p. 253.
Berkeley on "Abstract Ideas" 425
question, or being converted into Principle Ai and Prin-
ciple A will not permit the inference of proposition (b),
but only of the proposition (c) that I have never in fact
experienced extension apart from colour. This is not to
say that Berkeley's discussion of the relation between pri-
mary and secondary qualities amounts to no more than
this; it is only to say that, as far as the doctrine of abstract
ideas is concerned, the following conclusions seem to be
warranted: (1) the doctrine appears to furnish less actual
support to Berkeley's system than Berkeley supposes, and
(2) it suffers from certain inner difficulties which cannot
be removed without changing it in such a way that it
furnishes no support at all.
 G. J. WARNOCK'S BERKELEY
J. F. THOMSON

It is one of the chief merits of Mr. Warnock's book

(and they are, I think, considerable) that he is concerned
with making clear what Berkeley meant by esse est percifJi
and why he wished to hold this view. This is not an easy
matter to be clear about, although it is often made to
seem one. Mr. Warnock recognises, as few wtiters have,
that there is a great complexity about Berkeley's use of his
key-terms-idea, in the mind, perceived-and some of the
best discussions in the book are those in which he sepa-
rates off from each other various senses that Berkeley gives
to idea. He claims, however, to be able to isolate a central
use of idea, and an associated use of in the mind, and thus
to be able to put forward in moderately clear terms. one
thesis which is wrapped up in esse est percipi. Then, in
the light of this interpretation, he considers Berkeley's
claim that when he denies the existence of material sub-
stance, or rather, the absolute existence of material sub-
stance, he is not taking away anything that plain men
would miss, and rejects it. This work of clarification and
interpretation takes up the middle part of the book
(roughly half).
Mr. Warnock's interpretation of Berkeley's central use
of idea is as follows. An idea is an immediate object of
perception, and this is what is described in a statement of
immediate perception. Such a statement is one in which a
speaker, while saying how things seem to him, takes noth-
ing for granted about how they actually are; such state-
ments are ideally of the form: 'It seems to me as if I
From Mind, Vol. LXV (1956). Reprinted, with the addition
of one footnote, by permission of the author and Mind.
G. J. Warnock's Berkeley 427
were seeing (hearing, touching, etc.) a so-and-so'. War-
nock now suggests that esse est percipi can be paraphrased
as follows. "Every material thing is a 'collection of ideas'.
Any statement about any material thing is really (can be
analysed into) an indefinitely large set of statements about
what it seems, or in suitable conditions would seem, as if
the speaker and other people and God were hearing, see-
ing, feeling, tasting, smelling-that is, into an indefinitely
large set of statements describing the ideas of which any
material object is a collection. It is clear then that nothing
is 'without the mind'; for any such statement about a ma-
terial object is analysed into a set of statements, each of
which mentions some 'spirit' (human or divine) by whom
the ideas that constitute the collection are actually had"
(pp. 179-180). Warnock denies, however, that statements
about material things can be analysed in this way. "The
whole force (he says) of saying 'It seems as if . . .' is to
allow for ' .•. but not so really'. But this is fatal to Berke-
ley's case; the force of 'It seems as if . . .' cannot be con-
jured away. If the sentence 'It seems to me and to God,
and it would seem to anyone else, as if there were an
orange on the sideboard' means the same as 'There is an
orange on the sideboard', then to assert the first of these
and deny the second would be self-contradictory. But in
fact [sic] this is not the case. . . . However many people
give 'their own impressions', it makes sense to say that
they are all mistaken; and hence to say 'There is an orange
on the sideboard' cannot mean the same as saying that
everyone had or has, will have or would have, the impres-
sion that there is." Accordingly, Wamock concludes that
"the common suspicion that Berkeley is somehow neglect-
ing the distinction between what seems and what is turns
out to be justified • • • he provides us with a version of
this distinction, in the form of a distinction between 'con-
sistent seeming' and mere irregular 'incoherent seeming'.
But this distinction is not enough."
I should like to suggest, tentatively, the following criti-
cisms.
Warnock assumes, without discussion, that it is not
self-contradictory to say that it seems to God as if some-
428 ,. F. Thomson
thing were so, which is not so. I do not want to suggest
that this obviously is self-contradictory, or that it would
be profitable to discuss, as an isolated point, whether it
is or not. But there is some reason to think that Berkeley
would have regarded the question as important, and rele-
vant to his claim not to have upset the distinction be-
tween reality and chimeras. And if a Berkeleian just said
flatly that it was self-contradictory, I do not see what War-
nock could say in reply. It is certainly not enough to say
that the force of 'it seems as if' is always to allow for 'but
not so', for this is in a way no argument but just a repeti-
tion of what has to be defended. It might be admitted
that this is usually the force of 'it seems as if', but never-
theless held that in this case (admittedly a uniquely spe-
cial one) the phrase loses some of its ordinary force. Al-
ternatively, someone might concede the point about 'it
seems as if', but conclude from this that it was a mistake
to elucidate" God's having ideas in terms of it seeming to
him as if.
I think that Warnock's interpretation of esse est /Jerci/Ji
underestimates the importance of God in Berkeley's phi-
losophy, and this may be due to the fact that he does not
properly see what role God is required to play. At one
point, anyway, he seems to misunderstand how Berkeley
thought he was able to prove God's existence. He writes
(p. 125) "He was sure that he could prove that 'esse' is
'/Jerci/Ji', and hence that we must either admit the exist-
ence of the universe in the mind of God, or deny the
existence of everything not actually /Jerceived by hunian
beings. The second alternative clearly is not acceptable;
and so, he believed, the first must be accepted" (my ital-
ics). I believe that this seriously misrepresents Berkeley's
line of thought To him it was self-evident that all our
ideas have causes. Of some of our ideas we are ourselves
the cause. But each of us may decide, by simple trial, that
he is not the cause of all his ideas. Roughly; not all my
ideas obey my will, so not all are produced by me. We
must conclude then that there is 'some other will or spirit'
that produces them, and this is God. The difference be-
tween the two accounts is important. It is not a premiss
c. ,. Warnock's Berkeley 429
of the argument at all that material things exist when
they are not actually perceived by a human being. It is not
that Berkeley rebels against the idea that things cease to
exist when people turn their backs, and invokes God as
an all-seeing eye to avoid concluding this. The argument is
rather meant to show that even the things that I am actu-
ally perceiving now must be in a mind other than my
own. "[It is] plain that ideas or things by me perceived
. . . exist independently of my mind, since I know my-
self not to be their author. . . . They must therefore exist
in some other mind, whose will it is they should be ex-
hibited to me" (Three Dialogues, p. 214, in the Luce-
Jessop edition),1
The God whose existence Berkeley thought he could
prove is not then just a ubiquitous observer. And it is be-
cause of this, and because Berkeley holds that our ideas
of sense exist independently of our own minds, that he
claims that the distinction between reality and illusion re-
tains its full force.
If the question is, how do we in fact distinguish between
reality and appearance, between what seems so because
it is so and what merely seems so and is not so; then Berke-
ley's answer, in so far as he has one, seems to be much the
same as Hume's, i.e. in terms of consistency and coherence.
(If this is not entirely satisfactory, that is partly the fault
of the question; if one is to answer such a general question
in general terms, one can do little except to gesture
vaguely with such phrases as 'the way the appearances
hang together'.) But it is not clear that this answer to this
question commits Berkeley to the view that when we say
1 It now seems more plausible to me that Berkeley has two
arguments for the existence of God. One, the argument Warnock
had in mind, seems to appear clearly on p. 245 of the Dialogue.
The second, the 'causal' argument, is that mentioned here.
It is worth pointing out that the causal argument is formally
fallacious. Given that every one of my ideas of sense that is not
caused by me is caused by some powerful spirit, it does not fol·
low, as Berkeley wished to say, that some one powerful spirit
causes all those ideas of sense. The way is thus left open for a
kind of animism (one spirit for eam physical object) and for
views intermediate between this and theism.
430 ,. F. Thomson
that something about a matter of fact is so, we mean only
that certain ideas have been had and others will or could
be had. Mr. Warnock says that Berkeley identifies reality
with consistent seeming. But it seems possible that Berke-
ley wished to identify reality with seemings caused by
God; these seemings are consistent just because they are
caused in this way. If I know that there is an orange on
the sideboard, then doubtless I know this because certain
ideas, suitably consistent with each other, have been had.
But what I know is something about God. And on this
view, to say that God has such-and-such an idea would be
to say something about reality.
If it were suggested that 6ur ideas of sense have no
causes, that it just happens that we have them in the or-
der that we do; then Berkeley would, I think, have re-
garded this as quite abolishing the distinction between
what seems and what is.
It is also worth asking whether, even if we waive God,
Mr. Warnock's grounds for rejecting esse est percipi are
correct. It is difficult to discuss this, because, although his·
case is that a certain statement is not self-contradictory, he
does not make it really clear just what statement it is that
he is thinking of. Thus he says that the sentence 'It seems
to me and to God, and it would seem to everyone else, as
if there were an orange on the sideboard' does not mean
the same as 'There is an orange on the sideboard', be-
cause it is not self-contradictory to say the first of these
and deny the second; but he goes on to say, as if this were
the same thing, that it is not self-contradictory to say 'It
seems to me and to God and to absolutely everyone as if
there were an orange on the sideboard, but really there is
no orange there', and of course this is something quite
different. Then later he says that however many people
give their impressions, it makes sense to say that they are
all mistaken; and this is something different again. And in
the interesting discussion on pages 182-186, it seems that
Berkeley is being taken to task for thinking that the evi-
dence that one would ordinarily take as conclusive for
such a statement as 'There is an orange on the sideboard'
G. ,. Warnock's Berkeley 431
entails that statement. This is just not the position that
Mr. Warnock started off to discuss.
A reasonably strong statement of what seems, at first
anyway, under discussion, is this: Given that it seems to
me and to everyone as if P, and given further that what-
ever I or anyone may do, it will continue to seem to me
and to him as if P, and given further that there is nothing
that anyone could do that would make it seem to him as
if not-P, does it follow that P? I certainly think that it
would not be correct to answer Yes to this question, and
this means that on this interpretation of it esse est percipi
is not obviously true. But Mr. Warnock seems to imply
that it would be correct to answer No, and this is ques-
tionable. For if it is correct to say that the one thing does
not entail the other, it should be possible to explain in
what circumstances it would be correct to assert the one
thing and deny the second. But what circumstances could
these be?
And for that matter, in what circumstances would it be
correct to say: 'It seems to me and to everyone, in every
way it could, as if there were an orange on the sideboard,
but there isn't'?
I think it is worth mentioning this difficulty, because it
seems to be connected with one of the Berkeley's motives
(or reasons) for holding esse est percipi, one that is often
disregarded. There is one argument that Berkeley gives for
his view, an argument to which he himself attached the
greatest importance, which Mr. Warnock does not (as far
as I can see) notice at all. This is the argument developed
in Principles, 22-23 and again on page 200 of the Three
Dialogues (Luce-Jessop edition). Berkeley here says that
though we may think that we can imagine material things
existing unperceived, we fail to notice that when we imag-
ine these things we are ourselves perceiving them. As an
argument this will doubtless seem contemptible. Its inter-
est lies, however, in the identifications that have to be
made if it is to have the slightest plausibility.
The first identification that needs to be made is that
between perceiving something and thinking of it. "But do
not you yourself perceive or think of them all the while"?
432 ,. F. Thomson
This same identification occurs rather interestingly in the
following item (472) from the PhilosoPhical Commen-
taries. (I have revised the spelling.) "You ask me whether
the books are in the study now when no-one is there to
see them. 1 answer Yes. You ask me, are we not in the
wrong [sc. on Berkeleian principles] for imagining things
to exist when they are not actually perceived by the senses?
1 answer No. The existence of our ideas consists in being
perceived, imagined, thought on; whenever they are imag-
ined or thought on they do exist. Whenever they are men-
tioned or discoursed of they are imagined or thought on,
therefore you can at no time ask me whether they exist or
no, but by reason of that very question they must neces-
sarily exist." The next item, 473, should also be quoted
here. "But say you then a Chimera does exist. 1 answer, it
does in one sense. That is, it is imagined. But it must be
well noted that existence is vulgarly restrained to actual
perception, and that 1 use the word Existence in a larger
sense than ordinary."
This identification explains, what is otherwise difficult
to understand, why Berkeley thought that the belief in the
absolute existence of bodies, independently of any mind,
was due to the belief in abstract ideas. "Hence as it is im-
possible for me to see or feel anything without an actual
sensation of that thing, so it is impossible for me to con-
ceive in my thoughts any sensible thing or object distinct
from the sensation or perception of it" (Principles, 5).
This means: just as you cannot see or touch an orange
without having sensations of a certain kind, so you cannot
think of an orange without having sensations of that kind.
Berkeley really did believe, 1 think, that the meaning
of a word is an image or a set of images. To think of an
orange, and to think how an orange looks and feels and
tastes and smells, are the same thing; and to understand
something by the word orange is the same thing again.
But not only are thinking of a thing and imagining a thing
identified; imagining on the one hand, and seeing and
touching and tasting and hearing and smelling on the
other, are regarded as essentially similar, as species of the
same genus. They all consist in having ideas. The only
G. J. Warnock's Berkeley 433
difference between looking at an orange and thinking of
one is that the ideas one has in the fonner case, ideas of
sense, are 'more strong, lively, and distinct' than those one
has in the fonner case, ideas of imagination. (And of
course, ultimately, the difference as regards causation.)
See Principles, 30. Now in one way there is no difference
between imagining what it would be like if there were an
orange in front of one and imagining oneself seeing an
orange. This is the force of the argument in Principles,
:U-23. When Berkeley tried to understand the notion of a
material substance external to the mind, he thought he
was being asked to do something comparable to imagining
how an orange would look to him if it were not there. And
he thought that people could only have failed to notice the
impossibility of this because of the prevalence of the doc-
trine of abstract ideas. The only way you can attach sense
to a material-thing-word is by having ideas, i.e. images.
You have to imagine how a thing-an orange, say-looks,
tastes, and so on. Now if you are asked to imagine how
an orange looks, you need not call up the image of a large
orange, nor of a small one. But this does not mean (Berke-
ley insists) that you can attach sense to the word ·without
having some image. Of course, as Berkeley himself ·says,
often we don't in fact have images when we hear words;
but our understanding of those words nevertheless de-
pends on our being able to have images of the appropriate
kind.
This also explains Berkeley's attacks on language, his
insistence that we lay aside the veil of words, and his fre-
quent requests to his readers that they look into their own
thoughts and see whether wha~ he says isn't so. These
requests are not just that the reader reflect a little, but
suggestions that he perfonn a certain kind of Gedanken-
experiment. Words mislead us because they distract our
attention from what is important in clarifying our views,
i.e. our imagery. If what you want to know what a sentence
really means, how it is to be understood, consider simply
what images it excites in you. This cannot be misleading,
because what you will be considering is of the same kind
and the same structure as reality itself. (Philosophy as the
434 ,. F. Thomson
logical syntax of the divine sense-language.) When Berke-
ley asked himself what it really meant to say that a sensible
thing-a book, say-existed somewhere, he simply imagined
a book, i.e. imagined himself looking at a book. Then he
described this as having such-and-such ideas; and he sup-
posed it to be, in every important respect, the same thing
as perceiving a book. Then, because he could not (he
thought) imagine that a book was in a closet without
imagining himself seeing or touching a book, he concluded
that for the book to be in the closet (to exist there) and
for it to be perceived, were the same thing. (If this ac-
count of how Berkeley came to think that esse est percipi
is even partially correct, then we should not expect him to
take very seriously the difficulty expressed by his critics
in the question "What about the esse of things that are
not actually being perceived?"; as indeed he does not.)
Now one part of the force of esse est perci/Ji on this
account of it can be stated in quite a reasonable way:
Really to understand what is meant by saying "There is an
orange on the sideboard" you have to imagine how it would
look and feel to you if there were one there. (Thus Berke-
ley holds, quite consistently, that a man blind from birth
cannot attach the same meaning to this sentence as we
do.) But then, what sense can we attach, on his view, to
the sentence "It seems to me and to everyone, in every
way it could, as if there were an orange on the sideboard,
but there isn't one there really"? I suggested above that it
was difficult to see in what circumstances one could say
this; and one might put the difficulty by saying that it is
difficult to imagine a situation in which this sentence
would be called for. For it seems that we are asked to
imagine a situation in which, while it seems to us in every
way it could as if there were an orange on the sideboard,
it is nevertheless correct to say that there isn't. But what,
in the imagined situation, is it to be that makes it correct
to say that there isn't? If in this situation it is to be correct
to say there isn't, mustn't the situation be one in which,
in some way or other, it seems to us as if there isn't an
orange there, and thus one in which it doesn't seem to
G. ,. Warnock's Berkeley 435
us in every way as if there is? This objection, which is
quite natural to want to JIlake against what Mr. Warnock
says, reflects exactly the force of esse cst percipi on one
interpretation of it.
 A NOTE ON BERKELEY AS PRECURSOR
OF MACH AND EINSTEIN
KARL POPPER

I had only a very vague idea who Bishop Berkeley was,

but was thankful to him for having defended us from
an incontrovertible first premise.
SAMUEL BUTLER

The purpose of this note is to give a list of those ideas

of Berkeley's in the field of the philosophy of physics
which have a strikingly new look. They are mainly ideas
which were rediscovered and reintroduced into the discus-
sion of modem physics by Ernst Mach and Heinrich Hertz,
and by a number of philosophers and physicists, some of
them influenced by Mach, such as Bertrand Russell, Philip
Frank, Richard von Mises, Moritz Schlick,1 Werner Hei-
senberg and others.
I may say at once that I do not agree with most of these
positivistic views. I admire Berkeley without agreeing with
First published in The British Journal for the Philosophy of
Science, 4, 1953. Reprinted as chapter 6 of the author's Conjec-
tures and Refutations. Reprinted here from Conjectures and
Refutations, 2nd ed. (revised) 1965, by permission of the author,
Routledge and Kegan Paul Ltd, London, and Basic Books, Inc.,
New York.
1 Schlick, under the influence of Wittgenstein, suggested an
instrumentalist interpretation of universal laws which was prac-
tically equivalent. to Berkeley's 'mathematical hypotheses'; see
Naturwissenscha{ten, 19, 1931, pp. 151 and 156. For further
references see footnote 23 to section iv of ch. 3 of Conjectures
and Refutations.
Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Einstein 437
him. But criticism of Berkeley is not the purpose of this
note, and will be confined to some very brief and incom-
plete remarks in section v. 2
Berkeley wrote only one work, De Motu, devoted ex-
clusively to the philosophy of physical science; but there
are passages in many of his other works in which similar
ideas and supplementary ones are represented. s
The core of Berkeley's ideas on the philosophy of sci-
ence is in his criticism of Newton's dynamics. (Newton's
mathematics were criticized by Berkeley in The Analyst
and its two sequels.) Berkeley was full of admiration for
Newton, and no doubt realized that there could have been
no worthier object for his criticism.

II

The following twenty-one theses are not always ex-

pressed in Berkeley's terminology; their order is not con-
nected with the order in which they appear in Berkeley's
writings, or in which they might be presented in a system-
atic treatment of Berkeley's thought.
For a motto, I open my list with a quotation from
Berkeley (DM, 29).
(1) 'To utter a word and mean nothing by it is un-
worthy of a philosopher.'
(2) The meaning of a word is the idea or the sense-
quality with which it is associated (as its name). Thus
the words 'absolute space' and 'absolute time' are without
2 I have since developed these ideas more fully in ch. 3 of
Coniectures and Refutations; especially section 4.
S Apart from DM (= De Motu, 1721) I shall quote TV (= Es-
say towards a New Theory of Vision, 1709); Pr (= Treatise con-
cerning the Principles of Human Knowledge, 1710); HP (=
Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, 1713); Ale (=
Alciphron, 1732); An (= The Analyst, 1734); and S (= Siris,
1744). As far as I know, there does not exist an English transla-
tion of DM which succeeds in making clear what Berkeley meant
to say; and the Editor of the latest edition of the Works even
goes out of his way to belittle the significance of this highly
original and in many ways unique essay.
p
438 Karl PoppeT
any empirical (or operational) meaning; Newton's doc-
trine of absolute space and, absolute time must therefore
be rejected as a physical theory. (Cf. Pr, 97, 99, 116;
DM, 53, 55,620; An, 50, Qu. 8; S, 2071: 'Concerning ab-
solute space, that phantom of the mechanical and geo-
metrical philosophers, it may suffice to observe that it is
neither perceived by our sense, nor proved by our rea-
son .. .'; DM, 64: 'for ... the purpose of the philoso-
phers of mechanics . . . it suffices to replace their "abso-
lute space" by a relative space determined by the heavens
of the fixed stars. ~ . . Motion and rest defined by this
relative space can be conveniently used instead of the
absolutes . . . .')
(3) The same holds for the word 'absolute motion'.
The principle that all motion is relative can be established
by appealing to the meaning of 'motion', or to operational-
ist arguments. (Cf. Pr as above, 58, lIZ, 115 'to denomi-
nate a body "moved" it is requisite. . . that it changes its
distance or situation with regard to some other
body . . . '; DM, 63: 'No motion can be discerned or
measured, except with the help of sensible things'; DM,
620: ' . . • the motion of a stone in a sling or of water in
a whirled bucket cannot be called truly circular motion
•.. by those who define [motion] with the help of abso-
lute space. . . .')
(4) The words 'gravity' and 'force' are misused in phys-
ics; to introduce force as the cause or 'principle' of motion
(or of an acceleration) is to introduce 'an occult quality'
(DM, 1-4, and especially 5, 10, 11, 17, 202, 208; Ale, vii, 9).
More precisely, we should say 'an occult metaphysical sub-
stance'; for the term 'occult quality' is a misnomer, in so
far as 'quality' should more properly be reserved for ob-
servable or observed qualities-qualities which are given to
our senses, and which, of course, are never 'occult'. {An,
50, Qu. 9; and especially DM, 6: 'It is plain, then, that it
is useless to assume that the principle of motion is gravity
or force; for how could this principle be known any more
clearly through [its identification with] what is commonly
called an occult quality? That which is itself occult ex-
plains nothing; not to mention that an unknowu acting
Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Einstein 439
cause might more properly be called a [metaphysical] sub-
stance rather than a quality.')
(5) In view of these considerations Newton's theory
cannot be accepted as an explanation which is truly causal,
i.e. based on true natural causes. The view that gravity
causally explains the motion of bodies (that of the plan-
ets, of free-falling bodies, etc.), or that Newton discovered
that gravity or attraction is 'an essential quality' (Pr, 106),
whose inherence in the essence or nature of bodies ex-
plains the laws of their motion, must be discarded (S,
234; see also S, 246, last sentence). But it must be ad-
mitted that Newton's theory leads to the correct results
(DM, 39, 41). To understand this, 'it is of the greatest
importance . . . to distinguish between mathematical hy-
potheses and the natures [or essences] of things" ..• If
we observe this distinction, then all the famous theorems
of mechanical philosophy which . . . make it possible to
subject the world system [i.e. the solar system] to human
calculations, may be preserved; and at the same time, the
study of motion will be freed of a thousand pointless trivi-
alities and subtleties, and from [meaningless] abstract
ideas' (DM, 66).
( 6) In physics ( mechanical philosophy) there is no
causal explanation (cf. S, :2 31), i.e. no explanation based
upon the discovery of the hidden nature or essence of
things (Pr, :2 5). '. . . real efficient causes of the motion
• . . of bodies do not in any way belong to the field of
mechanics or of experimental science. Nor can they throw
any light on these .. .' (DM, 4]).
(7) The reason is, simply, that physical things have no
secret or hidden, 'true or real nature', no 'real essence',
no 'internal qualities' (Pr, 101).
(8) There is nothing physical behind the physical bod-
ies, no occult physical reality. Everything is surface, as it
were; physical bodies are nothing but their qualities. Their
appearance is their reality (Pr, 87, 88).
(9) The province of the scientist (of the 'mechanical
philosopher') is tile discovery, 'by experiment and reason-
4 Concerning the equivalence of 'natures' and 'essences' see my
Open Society, ch. 5, section vi.
44 0 Karl Popper
ing' (S, 234), of Laws of Nature, that is to say, of the
regularities and uniformities of natural phenomena.
(10) The Laws of Nature are, in fact, regularities or
similarities or analogies (Pr, 105) in the perceived mo-
tions of physical bodies (S, 234) ' . . . these we learn from
experience' (Pr, 30); they are observed, or inferred from
observations (Pr, 30, 62; S, 228, 264).
(11) 'Once the Laws of Nature have been formed, it
becomes the task of the philosopher to show of each phe-
nomenon that it is in conformity with these laws, that is,
necessarily follows from these principles.' (DM, 37; cf.
Pr, 107; and S, 231: 'their [i.e. the "mechanical philoso-
phers' "J province being . . . to account for particular
phenomena by reducing them under, and showing their
conformity to, such general rules.')
( 12) This process may be called, if we like, 'explana-
tion' (even 'causal explanation'), so long as we distinguish
it clearly from the truly causal (i.e. metaphysical) expla-
nation based upon the true nature or essence of things.
S, 231; DM, 37: 'A thing may be said to be mechanically
explained if it is reduced to those most simple and uni-
versal principles' (i.e. 'the primary laws of motion which
have been proved by experiments .. .' DM, 36) 'and
proved, by accurate reasoning, to be in agreement and
connection with them . . . This means to explain and
solve the phenomena, and to assign them their cause . . .'
This terminology is admissible (cf. DM, 71) but it must
not mislead us. We must always clearly distinguish (cf.
DM, 72) between an 'essentialist'5 explanation with ap-
peals to the nature of things and a 'descriptive' explana-
tion which appeals to a Law of Nature, i.e. to the de-
scription of an observed regularity. Of these two kinds of
explanation only the latter is admissible in physical
science.
( 13) From both of these we must now distinguish a
third kind of 'explanation'-an explanation which appeals
to mathematical hypotheses. A mathematical hypothesis
5 The term 'essentialist' (and 'essentialism') is not Berkeley's
but was introduced by me in The Poverty of Historicism, and in
The OPen Society and Its Enemies.
Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Einstein 441
may be described as a procedure for calculating certain
results. It is a mere formalism, a mathematical tool or
instrument, comparable to a calculating machine. It is
judged merely by its efficiency. It may not only be admis-
sible, it may be useful and it may be admirable, yet it is
not science: even if it produces the correct results, it is
only a trick, 'a knack' (An, 50, Qu. 35). And, as opposed
to the explanation by essences (which, in mechanics, are
simply false) and to that by laws of nature (which, if the
laws 'have been proved by experiment', are simply true),
the question of the truth of a mathematical hypothesis
does not arise-only that of its usefulness as a calculating
tool.
( 14) Now, those principles of the Newtonian theory
which 'have been proved by experiment'-those of the
laws of motion which simply describe the observable regu-
larities of the motion of bodies-are true. But the part of
the theory involving the concepts which have been criti-
cized above-absolute space, absolute motion, force, at-
traction, gravity-is not true, since these are 'mathematical
hypotheses'. As such, however, they should not be rejected,
if they work well (as in the case of force, attraction, grav-
ity). Absolute space and absolute motion have to be re-
jected because they do not work (they are to be replaced
by the system of fixed stars, and motion relative to it).
'''Force'', "gravity", "attraction",6 and words such as these
are useful for purposes of reasoning and for computations
of motions and of moving bodies; but they do not help us
to understand the simple nature of motion itself, nor do
they serve to designate so many distinct qualities. • . • As
far as attraction is concerned it is clear that it was not
introduced by Newton as a true physical quality but merely
as a mathematical hypothesis' (DM, 17).1
( 15 ) Properly understood, a mathematical hypothesis
does not claim that anything exists in nature which cor-
S The italics in the Latin original function here as quotation
marks.
1 This was more or less Newton's own opinion; cpo Newton's
letters to Bentley, 17th January, and especially 25th February
1692-3, and section 3 of ch. 3, above.
442 Karl Popper
responds to it-neither to the words or tenns with which
it operates, nor to the functional dependencies which it
appears to assert. It erects, as it were, a fictitious mathe-
matical world behind that of appearance, but without the
claim that this world exists. 'But what is said of forces
residing in bodies, whether attracting or repelling, is to be
regarded only as a mathematical hypothesis, and not as
anything really existing in nature' (S, 234; cf. DM, 18, 39
and especially Ale, vii, 9, An, 50, Qu. 35). It claims only
that from its assumptions the correct consequences can be
drawn. But it can easily be misinterpreted as claiming
more, as claiming to describe a real world behind the
world of appearance. But no such world could be de-
scribed; for the description would nece.ssarily be mean-
ingless.
(16) It can be seen from this that the same appear-
ances may be successfully calculated from more than one
mathematical hypothesis, and that two mathematical hy-
potheses which yield the same results concerning the cal-
culated appearances may not only differ, but even contra-
dict each other (especially if they are misinterpreted as
describing a world of essences behind the world of appear-
ances); nevertheless, there may be nothing to choose be-
tween them. 'The foremost of men proffer • . . many dif-
ferent doctrines, and even opposite doctrines, and yet
their conclusions [i.e. their calculated results] attain the
truth . . . Newton and Torricelli seem to disagree with
one another, . . . but the thing is well enough explained
by both. For all forces attributed to bodies are merely
mathematical hypotheses . . . ; thus the same thing may
be explained in different ways' (DM, 67).
(17) The analysis of Newton's theory thus yields the
following results:
We must distinguish
(a) Observations of concrete, particular things.
(b) Laws of Nature, which are either observations of
regularities, or which are proved (,eomprobatae',
DM, 36; this may perhaps mean here 'supported'
or 'corroborated'; see DM, 31) by experiments, or
Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Einstein 443
discovered 'by a diligent observation of the phe-
nomena' (Pr, 107).
(c) Mathematical hypotheses, which are not based on
observation but whose consequences agree with the
phenomena (or 'save the phenomena', as the PIa-
tonists said).
(d) Essentialist or metaphysical causal explanations,
which have no place in physical science.
Of these four, (a) and (b) are based on observation,
and can, from experience, be known to be true; (c) is not
based on observation and has only an instrumental sig-
nificance-thus more than one instrument may do the
trick (cf. (16), above); and (d) is known to be false when-
ever it constructs a world of essences behind the world of
appearances. Consequently (c) is also known to be false
whenever it is interpreted in the sense of (d).
( 18) These results clearly apply to cases other than
Newtonian theory, for example to atomism (corpuscular
theory). In so far as this theory attempts to explain the
world of appearances by constructing an invisible world of
'inward essences' (Pr, 102) behind the world of appear-
ances, it must be rejected. (Cf. Pr, 50; An, 50, Qu. 56;
S, 232, 235.)
(19) The work of the scientist leads to something that
may be called 'explanation', but it is hardly of great value
for understanding the thing explained, since the attain-
able explanation is not one based upon an insight into the
nature of things. But it is of practical importance. It en-
ables us to make both applications and predictions.
'. . . laws of nature or motions direct us how to act, and
teach us what to expect' (S, 234; cf. Pr, 62). Prediction is
based merely upon regular sequence (not upon causal se-
quence-at least not in the essentialist sense). A sudden
darkness at noon may be a 'prognostic' indicator, a warn-
ing 'sign', a 'mark' of the coming downpour; nobody takes
it as its cause. Now all observed regularities are of this na-
ture even though 'prognostics' or 'signs' are usually mis-
taken for true causes (TV, 147; Pr, 44, 65, 108; S, 252-4;
Ale, iv, 14, 15).
444 Karl Po{JfJer
(2.0) A general practical result-which I propose to call
'Berkeley's razor' -of this analysis of physics allows us a
priori to eliminate from physical science all essentialist
explanations. If they have a mathematical and a predictive
content they may be admitted qua mathematical hypothe-
ses (while their essentialist interpretation is eliminated).
If not, they may be ruled out altogether. This razor is
sharper than Ockham's: all entities are ruled out except
those which are perceived.
( 2.1) The ultimate argument for these views, the rea-
son why occult substances and qualities, physical forces,
structures of corpuscles, absolute space, and absolute mo-
tion, etc. are eliminated, is this: we know that there are no
entities such as these because we know that the words
professedly designating them must be meaningless. To
have a meaning, a word must stand for an 'idea'; that is to
say, for a perception, or the memory of a perception; in
Hume's terminology, for an impression or its reflection in
our memory. (It may also stand for a 'notion', such as
God; but the words belonging to physical science cannot
stand for 'notions'.) Now the words here in question do
not stand for ideas. 'Those who assert that active force,
action, and the principle of motion are in reality inherent
in the bodies, maintain a doctrine that is based upon no
experience, and support it by obscure and general terms,
and so do not themselves understand what they want to
say' (DM, 31).

III

Everybody who reads this list of twenty-one theses must

be struck by their modernity. They are surprisingly simi-
lar, especially in the criticism of Newton, to the philoso-
phy of physics which Ernst Mach taught for many years
in the conviction that it was new and revolutionary; in
which he was followed by, for example, Joseph Petzold;
and which had an immense influence on modem physics,
especially on the Theory of Relativity. There is only one
difference: Mach's 'principle of the economy of thought'
Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Einstein 445
(Denkoekonomie) goes beyond what I have called 'Berke-
ley's razor', in so far as it allows us not only to discard
certain 'metaphysical elements', but also to distinguish in
some cases between various competing hypotheses (of the
kind called by Berkeley 'mathematical') with respect to
their simplicity. (Cf. (16) above.) There is also a striking
similarity to Hertz's Principles of Mechanics (1894), in
which he tried to eliminate the concept of 'force', and to
Wittgenstein's Tractatus.
What is perhaps most striking is that Berkeley and
Mach, both great admirers of Newton, criticize the ideas
of absolute time, absolute space, and absolute motion, on
very similar lines. Mach's criticism, exactly like Berkeley's,
culminates in the suggestion that all arguments for New-
ton's absolute space (like Foucault's pendulum, the ro-
tating bucket of water, the effect of centrifugal forces upon
the shape of the earth) fail because these movements are
relative to the system of the fixed stars.
To show the significance of this anticipation of Mach's
criticism, I may cite two passages, one from Mach and one
from Einstein. Mach wrote (in the 7th edition of the
Mechanics, 1912, ch. ii, section 6, § 11) of the reception
of his criticism of absolute motion, propounded in earlier
editions of his Mechanics: 'Thirty years ago the view that
the notion of "absolute motion" is meaningless, without
any empirical content, and scientifically without use, was
generally felt to be very strange. Today this view is up-
held by many well-known investigators.' And Einstein said
in his obituary notice for Mach ('Nachruf auf Mach',
Physikalische Zeitschr., 1916), referring to this view of
Mach's: 'It is not improbable that Mach would have found
the Theory of Relativity if, at a time when his mind was
still young, the problem of the constancy of velocity of
light had agitated the physicists.' This remark of Ein-
stein's is no doubt more than generous. 8 Of the bright
8 Mach survived Einstein's Special Theory of Relativity by
more than eleven years, at least eight of which were very active
years; but he remained strongly opposed to it; and though he al-
luded to it in the preface to the last (seventh) German edition
(1912) of the Mechanik published during his lifetime, the allu-
p*
446 Karl Popper
light it throws upon Mach some reflection must fall upon
Berkeley.9

IV

A few words may be ~aid about the relation of Berkeley's

philosophy of science to his metaphysics. It is very differ-
ent indeed from Mach's.
While the positivist Mach was an enemy of all tradi-
tional, that is non-positivistic, metaphysics, and especially
of all theology, Berkeley was a Christian theologian, and
intensely interested in Christian apologetics. While Mach
and Berkeley agreed that such words as 'absolute time',
'absolute space' and 'absolute motion' are meaningless and
therefore to be eliminated from science, Mach surely
would not have agreed with Berkeley on the reason why
physics cannot treat of real causes. Berkeley believed in
causes, even in 'true' or 'real' causes; but all true or real
causes were to him 'efficient or final causes' (S, 231), and
therefore spiritual and utterly beyond physics (cf. HP, ii).
He also believed in true or real causal explanation (S,
231) or, as I may perhaps call it, in 'ultimate explana-
tion'. This, for him, was God.
All appearances are truly caused by God, and explained
through God's intervention. This for Berkeley is the sim-
ple reason why physics can only describe regularities, and
why it cannot find true causes.
It would be a mistake, however, to think that the simi-
larity between Berkeley and Mach is by these differences
shown to be only superficial. On the contrary, Berkeley
and Mach are both convinced that there is no physical
world (of primary qualities, or of atoms; cf. Pr, 50; S, 232,
235) behind the world of physical appearances (Pr, 87,
88). Both believed in a form of the doctrine nowadays
sion was by way of compliment to the opponent of Einstein,
Hugo Dingler: Einstein's name and that of th" theory were not
mentioned.
9 This is not the place to discuss other predecessors of Mach,
such as Leibniz.
Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Einstein 447
called phenomenalism-the view that physical things are
bundles, or complexes, or constructs of phenomenal quali-
ties, of particular experienced colours, noises, etc.; Mach
calls them 'complexes of elements'. The difference is that
for Berkeley, these are directly caused by God. For Mach,
they are just there. \Vhile Berkeley says that there can be
nothing physical behind the physical phenomena, Mach
suggests that there is nothing at all behind them.

v
The great historical importance of Berkeley lies, I be-
lieve, in his protest against essentialist explanations in
science. Newton himself did not interpret his theory in an
essentialist sense; he himself did not believe that he had
discovered the fact that physical bodies, by their nature,
are not only extended but endowed with a force of attrac-
tion (radiating from them, and proportional to the
amount of matter in them). But soon after him the essen-
tialist interpretation of his theory became the ruling one,
and remained so till the days of Mach.
In .our own day essentialism has been dethroned; a
Berkeleian or Machian positivism or instrumentalism has,
after all these years, become fashionable.
Yet there is clearly a third possibility-a 'third view' (as
I call it).
Essentialism is, I believe, untenable. It implies the idea
of an ultimate explanation, for an essentialist explanation
is neither in need of, nor capable of, further explanation.
(If it is in the nature of a body to attract others, then
there is no need to ask for an explanation of this fact, and
no possibility of finding such an explanation.) Yet we
know, at least since Einstein, that explanation may be
pushed, unexpectedly, further and further.
But although we must reiect essentialism, this does not
mean that we have to accept positivism; for we may ac-
cept the 'third view'.
I shall not here discuss the positivist dogma of meaning,
since I have done so elsewhere. I shall make only six ob-
448 Karl Popper
servations. (i) One can work with something like a world
'behind' the world of appearance without committing one-
self to essentjalism (especially if one assumes that we can
never know whether there may not be a further world be-
hind that world). To put it less vaguely, one can work
with the idea of hierarchical levels of explanatory hypothe-
ses. There are comparatively low level ones (somewhat
like what Berkeley had in mind when he spoke of 'Laws
of Nature'); higher ones such as Kepler's laws, still higher
ones such as Newton's theory, and, next, Relativity. (ii)
These theories are not mathematical hypotheses, that is,
nothing but instruments for the prediction of appearances.
Their function goes very much further; for (iii) there is
no pure appearance or pure observation: what Berkeley
had in mind when he spoke of these things was always the
result of interpretation, and (iv) it had therefore a theo-
retical or hypothetical admixture. (v) New theories, more-
over, may lead to re-interpretation of old appearances, and
in this way change the world of appearances. (vi) The
multiplicity of explanatory theories which Berkeley noted
(see Section ii (16), above) is used, wherever possible, to
construct, for any two competing theories, conditions in
which they yield different observable results, so that we
can make a crucial test to decide between them, winning
in this way new experience.
A main point of this third view is that science aims at
true theories, even though we can never be sure that any
particular theory is true; and that science may progress
(and know that it does so) by inventing theories which
compared with earlier ones may be described as better ap-
proximations to what is true.
So we can now admit, without becoming essentialist,
that in science we always try to expktin the known by the
unknown, the observed (and observable) by the unob-
served (and, perhaps, unobservable). At the same time
we can now admit, without becoming instrumentalist,
what Berkeley said of the nature of hypotheses in the fol-
lowing passage (S, 228), which shows both the weakness
of his analysis-its failure to realize the conjectural charac-
ter of all science, including what he calls the 'laws of na-
Berkeley as Precursor of Mach and Einstein 449
ture' -and also its strength, its admirable understanding
of the logical structure of hypothetical explanation.
'It is one thing', Berkeley writes, 'to arrive at general
laws of nature from a contemplation of the phenomena;
and another to frame an hypothesis, and from thence de-
duce the phenomena. Those who suppose epicycles, and
by them explain the motions and appearances of the plan-
ets, may not therefore be thought to have discovered prin-
ciples true in fact and nature. And, albeit we may from
the premises infer a conclusion, it will not follow that we
can argue reciprocally, and from the conclusion infer the
premises. For instance, supposing an elastic fluid, whose
constituent minute particles are equidistant from each
other, and of equal densities and diameters, and recede
one from another with a centrifugal force which is in-
versely as the distance of the centres; and admitting that
from such supposition it must follow that the density and
elastic force of such fluid are in the inverse proportion of
the space it occupies when compressed by any force; yet we
cannot reciprocally infer that a fluid endowed with this
property must therefore consist of such supposed equal
particles.'
 BIBLIOGRAPHY

LOCKE

For a more complete list of Locke's works, and writings

on Locke, see the bibliographies in Aaron's John Locke
and Yolton's John Locke and the Way of Ideas. If a stu-
dent can locate, in some ancient edition, Locke's Cor-
respondence with the Bishop of Worcester (Stillingfleet) ,
he will find it worth reading.
Unfortunately, there is no standard edition of Locke's
writings.

Locke's Writings
An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, ed. A. C.
Fraser, 2 vols., Dover Publications, Inc., New York,
1959·
An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, ed. John W.
Yolton, 2 vols., J. M. Dent and Sons Ltd., London,
1961. (This is the best edition of the Essay in print.)
An Early Draft of Locke's Essay, Together with Excerpts
from his Journals, eds. R. I. Aaron and J. Gibb, Ox-
ford, 1936.

Good brief surveys of Locke's philosophy may be found in

F. Copleston, A History of Philosophy, Vol. V, London,
1959, Chapters rv-VII.
D. J. O'Connor, "Locke," in A Critical History of West-
ern Philosophy, ed. D. J. O'Connor, New York, 1964.

Books on Locke
Aaron, R. I., John Locke, 2nd ed., Oxford, 1955.
Bibliography 451
Gibson, James, Locke's Theory of Knowledge and Its His-
torical Relations, Cambridge, 1931.
Hofstadter, A., Locke and Scepticism, New York, 1935.
Leibniz, G. W. von, New Essays Concerning Human Un-
derstanding, translated and edited by A. G. Langley,
La Salle, 1949.
Mandelbaum, Maurice, Philosophy, Science, and Sense
Perception (Ch. 1), Baltimore, 1964.
Morris, C. R., Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Oxford, 1931.
O'Connor, D. J., John Locke, Pelican Books, 1952.
Yolton, J. W., John Locke and the Way of Ideas, Oxford,
1956•

Articles
Allison, Henry E., "Locke on Personal Identity," Journal
of the History of Ideas, '2.7 (1966), 41-58.
Ammerman, Robert, "Our Knowledge of Substance Ac-
cording to Locke," Theoria, 31 (1965), 1-8.
Broad, C. D., "John Locke," The Hibbert Journal, 31
(1933), 24cr-67. (Reprinted in Ethics and the History
of Philosophy, London, 1952.)
- - , "Locke's Doctrine of Substantial Identity and Di-
versity," Theoria, 17 (1951), 13-26.
Davis, John W., "The Molyneux Problem," Journal of the
History of Ideas, 21 (1960), 392-408.
Odegard, Douglas, "Locke as an Empiricist," Philosophy,
40 (19 6 5), 185-9 6.
Yolton, J. W., "Locke and the Seventeenth-Century Logic
of Ideas," Journal of the History of Ideas, 16 (1955).
43 1 -52.

LOCKE'S POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY

Locke's Writings
Two Treatises of Civil Government, ed. Peter Laslett,
Mentor Books, 1965.
The Second Treatise of Civil Government and A Letter
452 Bibliography
Concerning Toleration, ed. J. W. Gough, Basil Black-
well, 1948.
John Locke, Essays on the Law of Nature, edited with
commentary by W. von Leyden, Oxford, 1954.
Two Tracts on Government, ed. Philip Abrams, Cam-
bridge, 1966 (first English publication of Locke's earli-
est writings on politics).
Locke on Politics, Religion, and Education, ed. Maurice
Cranston, Collier Books, 1965 (contains The Second
Treatise, A Letter Concerning Toleration, A Note on
Happiness, The Sound Mind in the Sound Body, The
Reasonableness of Christianity, The Conduct of the
Understanding) .

Books on Locke
Gough, J. W., John Locke's Political Philosophy, Eight
Studies, Oxford, 1950.
Lamprecht, S. P., The Moral and Political Philosophy of
John Locke (Archives of Philosophy No. 11), New
York, 1918.
Larkin, P., Property in the 18th Century, with Special
Reference to England and Locke, Cork, 1930.
Macpherson, C. B., The Political Theory of Possessive In-
dividualism, Oxford Paperbacks, 1964, Ch. v, "Locke:
The Political Theory of Appropriation."
Strauss, Leo, Natural Right and History, Chicago, 1953,
(pp. 202.51 on Locke).

Articles
Day, J. P., "Locke on Property," The Philosophical Quar-
terly, 16 (1966), 207-20.
Laslett, Peter, "The English Revolution and Locke's Two
Treatises of Government," Cambridge Historical Jour-
nal, 12 (1956),40-55.
von Leyden, W., "John Locke and Natural Law," Phi-
losophy, 31 (1956), 23-35.
Simon, W. M., "John Locke, Philosophy and Political
Theory," American Political Science Review, 45 (1951),
386-<)9.
Bibliography 453
Yolton, J. W., "Locke on the Law of Nature," Philosophi-
cal Review, 67 (1958),477-98.

BERKELEY

The standard edition of Berkeley's 'writings is The

Works of George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne, eds. A. A.
Luce and T. E. Jessop, 9 vols., Nelson and Sons, Edin-
burgh, 1948-57.
A bibliography of writings by and on Berkeley up to
196% is to be found in:
T. E. Jessop, Bibliography of George Berkeley, Oxford,
1934;
C. M. Turbayne and R. Ware, "A Bibliography of George
Berkeley, 1933-6%," The Journal of Philosophy, 60
(1963), 93-11%. A revision, by T. E. Jessop, of his
bibliography (brought up to date) is to be published
shortly in The Hague by M. Nijhoff.

Selections from Berkeley's writings

Berkeley's Philosophical Writings, ed. David M. Ann-
strong, Collier Books, 1965 (contains the Principles, the
Three Dialogues, the New Theory of Vision, the De
Motu, the philosophical correspondence with Samuel
Johnson, and selections from the Commonplace Book).
A New Theory of Vision and other writings, Everyman's
Library No. 483 (contains the Principles, the Three
Dialogues, the New Theory of Vision).
Three Dialogues between Hylas and Philonous, ed. Colin
M. Turbayne, The Library of Liberal Arts, 1954.
The Principles of Human Knowledge, ed. Colin M. Tur-
bayne, The Library of Liberal Arts, 1957.
Works on Vision, ed. Colin M. Turbayne, The Library of
Liberal Arts, 1963 (contains the New Theory of Vision,
The Theory of Vision Vindicated, with excerpts from
Alciphron and the Principles).
The Principles of Human Knowledge with other writings,
ed. G. J. Warnock, Fontana Library, 196% (contains the
454 Bibliography
Principles, the Three Dialogues, and part of the cor-
respondence with Samuel Johnson).

Good brief surveys of Berkeley's philosophy may be

found in:
F. Copleston, A History of Philosophy, Vol. V, London,
1959, Chapters XI-XIII.
]. F. Thomson, "Berkeley," in A Critical History of West-
ern Philosophy, ed. by D. J. O'Connor, New York,
1964.

Books on Berkeley
Abbott, T. K., Sight and Touch, London, 1864.
Armstrong, D. M., Berkeley's Theory of Vision, Mel-
bourne, 1961.
Hedenius, I., Sensationalism and Theology in Berkeley'S
Philosophy, Uppsala, 1936.
Hicks, G. Dawes, Berkeley, London, 1932.
Johnston, G. A., The Development of Berkeley's Philoso-
phy, London, 1923.
- - , Berkeley's Commonplace Book, London, 1930.
Luce, A. A., Berkeley and Malebranche, Oxford, 1934.
- - , Berkeley's Philosophical Commentaries, London,
1944·
- - , Berkeley's Immaterialism, London, 1945.
- - , The Dialectic of Immaterialism, London, 1963.
Morris, C. R., Locke, Berkeley, Hume, Oxford, 1931.
Sillem, E. A., George Berkeley and the Proofs for the
Existence of God, London and New York, 1957.
Warnock, G. J., Berkeley, Pelican Books, 1953.

Collections of articles
"George Berkeley; Lectures on the Bi-Centenary of his
Death," University of California publications in Phi-
losophy, vol. 29.
Steinkraus, Warren E., New Studies in Berkeley'S Phi-
losophy, New York, 1966.
Bibliography 455

Articles
Bracken, H. M., "Berkeley's Realisms," Philosophical
Quarterly,8 (1958),41-53.
Broad, C. D., "Berkeley's Argument about Material Sub-
stance," Proceedings of the British Academy, z8 (194Z),
119-38.
Cummins, P., "Perceptual Relativity and Ideas in the
Mind," Philosophical and Phenomenological Research,
24 (1963), 20z-14.
Davis, John W., "Berkeley's Doctrine of the Notion," Re-
view of Metaphysics, 1Z (1959), 378-89.
- - , "The Molyneux Problem," Journal of the History of
Ideas, 21 (1960), 392-408.
Grey, Denis, "Berkeley on Other Selves: a Study in
Fugue," Philosophical Quarterly, 4 (1954), 28-44.
- - , "The Solipsism of Bishop Berkeley," Philosophical
Quarterly,2 (195z), 338-49.
Prior, A. N., "Berkeley in Logical Form," Theoria, 21
(1955), 117-Z2 .
Suchting, W. A., "Berkeley's Criticism of Newton on
Space and Motion," Isis, 58 (1967), Summer issue.
Turbayne, Colin M., "Berkeley's Two Concepts of Mind,"
Philosophical and Phenomenological Research, 20
(1959-60), 85-<)2. (There is a reply by qrave, S. A.,
"A Note on Berkeley's Conception of the Mind;' Phi-
losophy and Phenomenological Research, 22 [1961-
6z], 574-76. Turbayne rejoins in "Berkeley's Two Con-
cepts of Mind," Part II, Philosophy and Phenomenolog-
ical Research, 22 [1961-62] 577-80.)
 INDEX

Abstract Ideas, 8, <}-ll, 311- personal identity, 161-62,

12, 377, 409-2 5, 43 2 173
Abstraction. See Abstract Ideas primary and secondary quali·
Albinus, 377 ties, 54-56, 71-72, 78-
Alexander, S., 76, 103, 128, 85, 107-10
13° resemblance of ideas, 151-
Allaire, E. B., 3610 53
Angels, 370 Borderline cases, 173-74
Archetypes. See Ideas See also Vagueness
Annstrong, D. M., 313n Bosanquet, B., 378n
Atomism, 443 Bourne, H. R. Fox, 206n
Awareness, 42-44 Boyle, R., 34, 52, 55-58, 66,
70, 126n
Ayer, A. J., 103, 104
Bracken, H. M., 358n
Bradley, F. H., 72, 127n, 163
Baeumker, C., 126n
Brain, 289
Barnes, W. H. F., 7
Broad, C. D., 13, 58, 76, 1°3,
Belief, 278, 282-83
129, 136
Bell, P., 87 Browne, P., 287n
Bennett, J., 11, 12, 13 Browning, R., 167
Berkeley, G., 8-13 passim, Butler, S., 159, 436
128, 130, 139, 150, 255-
449 passim Caird, E., 132-33n, 378n
conHa tion of doctrine of Calvinism, 214
property instantiation and and the poor, 204
distinction between ap- Cambridge Platonists, 15, 16,
pearance and reality, 86- 26
87, 9 1-<)5, 96, 99-103 Capitalist, 235-39, 24 1 -44,
conHation of veil-of·percep· 248-51
tion doctrine and primary· Cartesians, 16, 29, 32, 55, 56,
secondary quality distinc· 29 1, 318 , 359 n, 40 3, 404
tion, 118-24 Categorial and explanatory,
ideas, 17 50-52
Jackson's withdrawal of one Causality, Berkeley's theory,
criticism, 12 7n 11-12, 82, 83, 281, 299n,
45 8 Index
Causality (cont' d) Einstein, A., 445, 445n, 447
382, 383-84, 385-88, Empiricism, 25-29, 34, 40-41
439, 44 0, 44 3, 44 6 Equality, 194-<J5, 197
Charles I, 211 Erdmann, J. E., 126n
Christianity and the poor, Essentialism, 440, 443, 447-
208-11 48
Clark, G. N., 205n Existence, 311, 321-23, 326,
Collectivism, 227-28, 231, 238 417n, 422
Color, 256, 257, 260 Explanatory and categorial,
abstraction, 411, 412-13, 50-52
415-16, 4 19, 4 24-25 Extension, 257, 292, 344,
apparent and real, 342-43, 359 n, 412- 13, 4 15-16,
345 4 16n , 424-25
existence unperceived, 269- See also Primary qualities;
70, 302-3, 344, 345 Primary and secondary
extension, 9-10, 416, 419, qualities
42 4- 2 5
resembles only color, 357 Flew, A. G. N., 17on, 172n
See also Primary and Sec- Force, 438-39, 440-41, 444,
ondary qualities; Second- 445
ary qualities Foucher, S., 359
Community, 187-88 Frank, P., 436
Conscious, 158-59, 165 Fraser, A. C., 74, 103, 128-29,
Consent, 192-<J3, 197, 223- 130, 134-35, 146, i 50,
24, 226 375
Consideration, 46-47 Freedom, 193-<J4, 197, 220-
Constitutionalism, 228-29 21
Contract, 223 Furlong, E. J., 13
Copleston, F. C., 103 Furniss, E. S., 205n
Cox, R. H., 231n
Cummins, P. D., 13 Galileo, G., 75
Gassendi, P., 361
D'Avenant, W., 205n Gibson, J. J., 75, u8, 130,
Davie, G. E., 402n 144n
Day, J. P., 244n God, 8, 180-82, 287, 295,
Democritus, 55, 73 319, 364-408 passim
Descartes, R., 58, 75, 255, causality, ll-U, 366-69,
311, 333, 361 , 361n 382-<J9, 406- 8, 42 7-3 0 ,
Dingler, H., 445-46n 446-47
Dreams, 259, 260, 279-80 ideas of, 303n, 304-6, 323-
24, 35 1, 369-79
Ego-centric predicament, no- unobserved objects, 12, 268,
31 28 9, 29 2, 294, 297-<J8,
Egoism, 182-84 30 4-6, 325, 339, 351.
Index 459
God (cont'd) archetypes, 79, 301-2,
36 5-66, 380-82, 387-~' 30 4- 6, 351, 369-78
400-8, 428-29 attention, 18, 19, 42
Gough, J. W., 202, 21m, 226, attribute or character, 19
23 1n causation, 11-12
Grave, S. A., 13 concepts, 18
Gravity, 438-39, 44 1, 447 consideration, 18, 19, 42
Green, T. H., 373 dependence, 387-88
Locke and Berkeley on quali-
Hacking, I., 87 ties and ideas, 79-80,
Hallucinations, 259, 260, 279- 12 7- 28
80 Locke and Berkeley on types
Hamilton, W., 126n, 128, of ideas, 94
133n, 134-35, 139 n, manner of receiving, 146-47
147n meaning, 2-3, 437, 444
Heat, 256, 257, 340-41, 347- mind, 4, 19-25, 274-75,
48, 360n, 36m 28 7-88, 29 2-<)3, 296-313
Hedenius, I., 326n numerical identity, 348-52
Hegelians, 132, 378 origin, 25-29, 43-520, 67-68
Heisenberg, W., 436 perception, 266, 321-25,
Hertz, H., 436, 445 334-37, 338-39, 4 26-27
Hicks, G. Dawes, 103, 339n, physiological account, 27,
390 4 1-44
Hill, C., 204n resemble ideas only, 151-53,
Hobbes, T., 15, 187,202,217, 353-6 3
sensory states, 96, 380
21 9
Hobbists, 16 simple, 3-4
Hooker, R., 182 See also Abstract Ideas;
God; Imagination; Per-
Human nature, 217-21
ception; Sensations;
Hume, D., 33, 384, 415 Sense-data
appearance and reality, 429
Imagination, 270-71, 275,
causality, 33, 286
299 n, po, 323, 330, 36 5,
ideas, 17, 40, 381 , 444 366-68, 431-34
mind, 4, 276, 310 Immortality, 312n
Representative Perception, Impenetrability, 56
128, 139 Inconsistency and inconstancy,
space and time, 416n 13 1 -32, 154 .
unperceived objects, 406 real meaning, 133
Huxley, T. H., 103 Individualism, 21 3, 220, 226-
HUfgenius, 34 30, 231, 238
Individuals
Idealism, 381, 420 particulars, 62
Ideas, 2-5, 8, 257 perishing states, 63
460 Index
Instrumentalism, 436n, 443, Leibniz, G. W., 89, 257, 384,
447-48 446n
Introspection, 43, 49 Locke, J., 1-7 passim, 14-254
passim, 384, 395
Jackson, R., 7, 78-85 abstract ideas, 411, 419
James I, 211 existence, 311
James II, 252 heat, 340
James, W., 156, 276 ideas, 381
Jessop, T. E., 355n, 359n material thing, 361, 371
Johnson, S., D.O., 302, 309, primary and secondary quali-
311 , 312, 312n, 323, 373, ties, 364
4 1 70 representative theory, 289,
Johnson, S., LL.D., 402 301, 360
Johnston, G. A., 76, 83n, substratum, 274, 307
339n Lorenz, T., 369n
Luce, A. A., 13, 103, 296--<)7,
Kant, I., 30, 51, 131, 132- 30 3n , 324n, 359n, 390,
33n, 276, 284, 290, 293, 402n, 403
377, 378
Kendall, W., 187-89, 201, Mabbot, J. D., 13
2310 Mach, ~., 436, 444-47
Kepler, J., 448 Macpherson, C. B., 7, 185n,
King, G., 204, 205n, 226n 23 2 -54
King, W., 287n McTaggart, J. M. E., 257
Knowledge, 277-79, 289 Majority rule, 188, 190, 194,
existences, 32-34 195, 197, 201, 226
general propositions, 29-32 Malebranche, N., 147n, 291,
mathematics, 30-32
natural law, 180-8"2 304, 35 8n, 373, 396
Man. See Person
nominal essence or natural
Marc-Wogau, K., 13
kind, 34-37
"Knowledge by acquaintance," Marx, K., 249
Marxism, 195
277, 279, 319n
Materialism, 291, 292
Labor, 213, 233-36, 244 Material thing, 371, 373
Laboring class, 203-11, 212, definition, 255-57, 361-63,
225, 233-39, 248-49 367
Lamprecht, S., 183n unperceived, 270, 273
Language, 375-77, 433-34 Matter. See Material thing;
Laski, H., 200 Substance
Laslett, P., 218n, 2470 Meaning
Law, 191, 194 ideas, 2-3, 437-38, 444
Laws of Nature, 368, 439-40, Locke's rejection of conven-
44 2-43,448 tionalist account, 6-7
Index 4 61
Meaning (cont'd} Ontological argument, 273
Locke's rejection of exten-
sional account, 4-6 Pain, 323-24, 360n, 36m
Memory, 158-64, 277, 278, Pantheism, 292
po, 323 Passion, 285n
Mental images. See Imagina- Paul, G. A., 23m
tion Perception, 258-61, 266-67,
Mill, J. S., 365 28 9, 32 3-2 5
Mind, 257, 285, 286-87, 292, awareness, 42
3°6-1 3, 359n , 373 infallibility of, 318-20
causality, 11, 367-68 property instantiation, 140-
substance, 274-76, 348 46
See also Person; Personal qualities and ideas, 127-28
identity; Soul See also God; Ideas; Naive
Mises, R. Von, 436 Realism; Representative
Modes, 292, 307-8, 312 theory of perception
mixed, 47 Percival, J., 305n
Monarch, 248, 252-53 Perry, R. B., 32 9, 330-31
Money, 185-86, 215-16, 222- Person, 166-74
28, 233-36, 242 See also Mind; Personal
Monson, C. H., 7 identity; Soul
Moore, G. E., 385 Personal identity, 155-78
Morris, C. R., 1·02 borderline cases and vague-
Mosaic creation, 305-6, 324 ness, 173-76
disembodiment, 166-67
Motion, 415, 416, 417-18,
memory of past actions,
43 8, 44 1, 444, 445
157-64
responsibility, 168-69, 171-
Naive Realism, 129, 152-53,
34 2
72
unity of substance, 157
Natural law, 180-82, 184, Petyt, W., 205
188, 189, 228, 233, 240 Petzold, J., 444
New Deal, 197 Phenomenalism, 12, 268-70,
Newton, I., 29, 34, 52, 322, 306 , P5, 36 5, 381 , 446-
437-48 passim
47
Newtonians, 29, 255 Plato, 128, 377
Nominal essence, 34-37 Platonism, 377
Notion, 285n, 323, 375, 377- Popkin, R. H., 359n
78, 422n, 444 Popper, K. R., 13
Numerical identity, 300-2, Positivism. See Instrumental-
34 8, 349-52 ism
Power, 57, 65
O'Connor, D. J., 101, 102 See also Causality, Berke-
Odor, 269, 270 ley's theory
462 Index
Price, H. H., 41, 43, 121, 122 Quinton, A. M., 17on, 172n
Prichard, H. A., 265
Primary qualities, 55, 60, 62 Randall, J. H., 103
confused with ideas by Rationality, 210, 214-17, 218-
Berkeley, 74, 95 21, 222-23, 231, 240
confused with powers by Real essence, 121-22
Gibson, 75 Reid, T., 133n, 147n
determinate and indetermi- ideas resemble ideas only,
nate, 64 Ip
determinate and variable, 65 Locke's representative theory
ideas of, 69 of perception, 128
Locke's account, 117 misinterpreted by Jackson,
macroscopic and micro· 127n
scopic, 66 misinterprets Locke, 71-75,
perishing states, 61 78
powers, 59-60 personal identity, 165-66
Primary and secondary quali· qualities and ideas, 54, 55,'
ties, 13, 54-77, 364 56
abstraction, 424-25 Relations, 27, 29, 323, 377-78
Bennett's distinction, 111- Relativity, Theory of, 444,
17 445, 44 8 .
Berkeley's interpretation de- Remembering. See Memory
fended, 78-85 Representative theory of per-
Berkeley's misinterpretation, ception, 13, 353-63
71 , 72 concept employment, 91
current distinction, 76, 77
Locke's version, 137-39,
distinction confused with
other distinctions, 86 28 9
Locke's distinction, 78, 104 mixed theory, 130, 134-36
misinterpretations, 74-77 scepticism, 90, 139, 370-72
"phenol" argument, 105-<) Revolution, 207-8, 237, 247
Reid's criticism, 73, 74 Rights, 182-<)8 passim, 212-
Pringle-Pattison, A. S., 1, 2, 3, 16, 227-30, 234, 244-50
5, 6 Rousseau, J. J., 245
Prior, A. N., 33on, 3pn Russell, B., 103, 436
Proclus, 377 Ryan, A., 7
Property, 184-86, 201, 212- Ryle, G., 7, 169n
16, 222-28, 231-54
Property instantiation St. Paul's, 267
cause of ideas, 92 Scepticism, 392-<)9
knowledge by perception, Schlick, M., 436
140-46 Scholastics, 56
Locke's view, 145 Science, 15, 51-P, 436-49
substance, 87-89 passim
Index 463
Secondary qualities Substratum. See Substance
Berkeley's criticism, 80-81, Suggestion, 46
29 1 Swift, J., 295n
Locke's account, 65-66, 81 Sydenham, T., 34, 52
Sensation, 17, 42, 258-65,
266, 272-73 Tawney, R. H., 200, 201n,
See also Ideas; Perception 20 4
Sense·data, 262, 264, 273, Telepathy, 257, 259
28 7, 319n, 370, 37 2, Temperature. See Heat
375-7 6 Theology, 14, 16, 37-39
Sensible qualities, 256, 341-47 Thinking, 310-11, 431-33
Shape, 417-18, 419 Time, 310-11, 437-38
Sight, 8-9, 270, 271-73 Toland, J., 15
Sillen, K A., 407n TorriceIli, K, 442
Simple ideas. See Ideas Touch, 271-73, 375
Simplicity, 445 Turbayne, C. M., 308n, 355n,
Smith, N. Kemp, 75 359 n
Solidity, 36m
origin of idea, 45 Unwin, G., 205n
Soul, 169-71
See also Mind; Person; Per- Vagueness, 174-76
sonal identity See also Borderline cases
Sound, 268-71 Vaughan, C. E., 189-<}1, 200,
Space, 45, 29 2, 378-79, 437- 23I n
38, 44 1, 445 Voltaire, F. M. A. de, 377
Spinoza, B., 292, 384
Spinozism, 292 Waissmann, F., 175n
Spirit. See Mind; Person; Per- Warnock, G. J., 99, 102, 103,
sonal identity; Soul 360n, 385, 386, 387,
Stephen, L., 103, 200 390-<}1, 395, 4 26-35
Stillingfleet, K, 145 Watson, R., 359n, 36m
Stocks, J. L., 14n Webb, T. K, 146-4711, 151
Stout, G. F., 141-42, 276 White, P. J., 49n
Strauss, L., 180-87, 216n Whitehead, A. N., 76
Substance Will, II, 281, 367-69, 370,
bearer of qualities and cause 371, 382 , 385-86, 407
of ideas, 99-104, 122-23 Williams, B. A. 0., 158
critique of Locke, 13, 98-99, Wilson, J. Cook, 126-27n,
274-7 6 137n, 141n, 151n
Locke's doctrine, 9fH}7 Wittgenstein, L., 436n, 445
mental, 157, 274-76, 306- Woodhouse, A. S. P., 226n
13
properties, 89-<}0 Yolton, J. W., 2
New Studies in Ethics Modern Studies in
Edited by W. D. Hudson Philosophy
Edited by Amelie Ror
This major series of
monographs has been 3025 Hume
planned to cover the whole Edited by V. C.
range of ethical theory from
the Greek philosophers to 3026 Descartes
the latest developments in Edited by Willis
contemporary philosophy.
Each study is complete in 3027 Aristotle
itself, and the series provides Edited by
a unique treatment of the J. M. E. Morav(
main philosophical
problems in ethics. 3028 Wittgenstein : 1
Philosophical
"The writers of the New Investigations
Studies in Ethics are all Edited by
somewhat iconoclastic; no George Pitcher
cows are sacred. They are
seeking to stimulate really 3029 Kant
fresh discussion in clear Edited by
precise English." Robert Paul We
-A. C. Adcock
Hibbert Journal Other titles in prepar,
3001 Greek Ethics
Pamela Huby

3002 Ethical Intuitionism

W. D. Hudson

3003 Contemporary Moral

Philosophy
G. J. Warnock

3004 Existentialist Ethics

Mary Warnock

3005 Evolutionary Ethics

Antony Flew

3006 Aquinas and Natural

Law D. J. O'Connor