Showing posts with label indeterminism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label indeterminism. Show all posts

3 Apr 2010

Appearance & Indeterminacy: Wölfflin's Explanation of 'Malerisch', or 'Painterly'

by Corry Shores
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Appearance & Indeterminacy:
Wölfflin's Explanation of 'Malerisch', or 'Painterly'


In Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation, Deleuze refers to the malerisch period that David Sylvester finds in Bacon's development. In the following I quote from two texts that will explain this term better. First I turn-to parts of Wölfflin's Renaissance and Baroque, excerpted in Art in Theory 1815-1900: An Anthology of Changing Ideas. Then afterward I quote from parts of hisPrinciples of Art History. In these texts he explains what he means by 'painterly' or 'malerisch'.



From:
Heinrich Wölfflin
Renaissance and Baroque
The Painterly Style

It is generally agreed among historians of art that the essential characteristic of baroque architecture is its painterly quality. Instead of following its own nature, architecture strove after effects which really belong to a different art-form: it became 'painterly'.

The term painterly is both one of the most important and one of the most ambiguous and indefinite with which art history works. There is not only painterly architecture, but painterly sculpture. The history of painting has a painterly phase, and yet we speak of painterly light effects, painterly disorder, painterly profusion, and so on. [boldface mine] Clearly it is impossible to use the word to definite purpose without first clarifying its meaning. What does 'painterly' mean? It would be simple enough to say that painterly is that which lends itself to being painted, that which without addition would serve as a motif for the painter. A strictly classical temple, if it is not in ruins, is not a picturesque object. [Wölfflin 2003: 717-719] However impressive it may be as a piece of architecture, it would look monotonous in a picture. An artist painting it on a canvas today would have great difficulty in making it look interesting; in fact he could only succeed with the aid of light and atmospheric effects and a landscape setting, and in the process the architectural element would retreat completely into the background. But a rich baroque building is more animated, and would therefore be an easier subject for a painterly effect. The freedom of line and the interplay of light and shade are satisfying to the painterly taste in direct proportion to the degree to which they transgress the rules of architecture. If the beauty of a building is judged by the enticing effects of moving masses, the restless, jumping forms or violently swaying ones which seem constantly on the point of change, and not by balance and solidity of structure, then the strictly architectonic conception of architecture is depreciated. In short, the severe style of architecture makes its effect by what it is, that is, by its corporeal substance, while painterly architecture acts through what it appears to be, that is, an illusion of movement. Neither of these extremes, of course, exists in a pure state.

Painterliness is based on an illusion of movement. Why movement is painterly, and why it is communicated through painting rather than another art form can only be answered by examining the special character of the art of painting. Because it has no physical reality painting has to depend on effects of illusion. Its means of creating an illusion of movement are also greater than those of any other art from. This has not always been so; the painterly period . . . was only one phase in the history of painting, and the painterly style was only slowly evolved by discarding a predominantly linear style. In Italy this process reached completion in the High Renaissance, notably in the work of Raphael. [...] [note, preceding ellipsis is not mine]

The new expressive means that were to have such a decisive influence on architecture were various, and we may now try to list the main features of the painterly style. The most direct expression of an artist's intention is the sketch. It represents what appears most vital to him, and reveals him actually in the process of thinking. It may therefore be useful to start by comparing two sketches so that we may establish the clearest distinction between the two manners. To begin with, the medium changes with the style. Where the linear style employs the pen or the silver-point, the painterly uses charcoal, red chalk or the broad water-colour brush. The earlier style is entirely linear: every object has a sharp unbroken outline and the main expressive element is the contour. The later style works with broad, vague masses, the contours barely indicated; the lines are tentative and repetitive strokes, or do not exist at all. In this style, not only individual figures but the entire composition are made up of areas of light and dark; a single tone serves to hold together whole groups of objects and contrast them with other groups. While the old style was conceived in terms of line and its purpose was to express a beautiful and flowing linear harmony, the painterly style thinks only in masses, and its elements are light and shade.

Light and shade contain by nature a very strong element of movement. Unlike the contour, which gives the eye a definite and easily comprehensible direction to follow, a mass of light tends to a movement of dispersal, leading the eye to and fro; it has no bounds, no definite break in continuity, and on all sides it increases and decreases. This, basically, is how the painterly style evokes an illusion of constant change. The contour is quite annihilated, and the continuous, static lines of the old style are replaced by an indistinct and gradually fading boundary area. [718-719, boldfaces mine] Where figures had been sharply silhouetted against a light ground, it is now the ground that is usually dark; the edges of the figures merge into it, and only a few illuminated areas stand out.

Corresponding to this distinction between linear and massive is another, that between 'flat' and 'spatial' (substantial). The painterly style, with its chiaroscuro, gives an illusion of physical relief, and the different objects seem to project or recede in space. The expression 'backward and forward' in itself suggests the element of movement inherent in all three-dimensional substances as compared to flat planes. In the painterly style, therefore, all flat areas become rounded and plastic with a view to effects of light and shade. If the contrast between light and dark is extreme an object may appear to jump right out of the picture plane. [...] [note, preceding ellipsis is not mine]

The aim of the painterly style is to create an illusion of movement; its first element is composition in terms of areas of light and shade, its second is what I should call the dissolution of the regular, a free style or one of painterly disorder. What is regular is dead, without movement, unpainterly. [boldface mine, italics his]

Unpainterly are the straight line and the flat surface. When these cannot be avoided, as in the representation of an architectural motif, they are either interrupted by some kind of accidental feature, or the building is depicted in a state of crumbling ruin; an 'accidental' drapery fold or something of the sort must be introduced to enliven it.

Unpainterly are the uniform series and the regular interval; a rhythmic succession is better, and better still is an apparently quite accidental grouping, depending entirely on the precise distribution of the masses of light.

To gain an even greater sense of movement, all or most of the composition is placed obliquely to the beholder. [...] [note, preceding ellipsis is not mine]

Unpainterly, finally, is the symmetrical composition. In the painterly style, there is only an equilibrium of the masses, with no neat correspondence of the individual forms to each other; sometimes the two sides of the picture are quite dissimilar, and the centre of the picture is undefined. The centre of gravity is transferred to one side, giving the composition a peculiar tension. A free painterly composition has no structural framework, no rule in accordance with which the figures are arranged; it is dictated only by an interplay of light and shade which defies all rule.

The third element in the painterly style may be called elusiveness, the lack of definition. It is characteristic of 'painterly disorder' that individual objects should be not fully and clearly represented, but partially hidden. [boldface mine, italics his] The overlapping of one object by another is one of the most important devices for the achievement of painterliness, for it is recognized that the eye quickly tires of anything in a painting that can be fully grasped at first glance. But if some parts of the composition remain hidden and one object overlaps another, the beholder is stimulated to imagine what he cannot see. The objects that are partly hidden seem as if they might at any moment emerge; the picture becomes alive, and the hidden parts then actually do seem to reveal themselves. Even the severe style could not always avoid overlapping objects, but all the essential features stood out clearly and any restlessness was softened. In the painterly style the composition is purposely arranged in such a way that the effect is an impression of transitoriness. [719-720] A similar device is the partial concealment of the figures by the frame, so that all we see of them is half-figures looking into the picture.

It is, in fact, on the indefinable that the painterly style ultimately depends. If the dissolution of the regular is the opposite of the structural, then it is also the antithesis of the sculptural. Sculptural symmetry avoids the indefinite and un-finite, the qualities most essential to the painterly style. [...] [note, preceding ellipsis is not mine]

Ultimately the painterly style had to lead to a total annihilation of three-dimensional form. Its real aim was to represent all the vitality and variety of light, and for this purpose the simplest subject was as suitable as the richest and most painterly profusion. [720a]




From:
Wölfflin, Heinrich
Principles of Art History


The psychologist of style finds a particularly rich booty in the stylised drapery of this epoch. With relatively few elements, an enormous variety of widely differing individual expression has here come to birth. Hundreds of artists have depicted the Virgin seated with the drapery pouched between the knees, and every time a form has been found which reveals a whole man. And yet it is not only in the great line of Italian renaissance art, but even in the painterly style of the Dutch genre painters of the seventeenth century that drapery has this psychological significance. [footnote 1: Malerisch. This word has, in the German, two distinct meanings, one objective, a quality residing in the object, the other subjective, a mode of apprehension and creation. To avoid confusion, they have been distinguished in English as "picturesque" and "painterly" respectively. (Tr.)]

As is well known, satin was a favourite subject of Terborch's, and he painted it specially well. It seems as if the fine material could not look otherwise than it is shown here, yet it is only the artist's innate distinction which speaks to us in his forms, and even Metsu saw the phenomenon of these fold-formations essentially differently. The fabric is apprehended as something rather weighty in fall and fold, the ridge of the fold is less delicate, each of its curves lacks elegance, and from the whole sequence of folds, the pleasing ease, the brio has vanished. It is still satin, and painted by a master, but seen beside Terborch's, Metsu's fabric looks almost dull.

Terborch: The Concert
(Thanks www.wga.hu)

(And thank you www.gutenberg.org)

Metsu: A Young Woman Composing Music and a Curious Man
(My thanks to commons.wikimedia.org)


And now, in our picture, that is not merely the result of a chance off-day. The spectacle is repeated, and so characteristic is it that we can continue on the same lines if we proceed to the analysis of figures and grouping. [Wölfflin 1950: 3-4] Consider the bare arm of the music-making lady in Terborch's picture - how finely it is felt in joint and movement, and how much heavier Metsu's figure seems - not because it is less skilfully drawn, but because it is felt differently. In Terborch, the grouping is light and the figures are bathed in air. Metsu gives something more massive and compact. An accumulation such as the bundled folds of the thick table-cloth with the writing materials could not be found in Terborch.

And so on. And if, in our reproduction, there is little trace of the shimmering-lightness of Terborch's tonal gradations, the rhythm of the whole still speaks an audible language, and it requires no special persuasion to see in the equipoise of the parts an art inwardly related to the drawing of the folds. [4-6]

Let us try to make the matter clear by examples. There are hardly two artists who, although contemporaries, are more widely divergent by temperament than the baroque master Bernini and the Dutch painter Terborch. Confronted with the turbulent figures of Bernini, who will think of the peaceful, delicate little pictures of Terborch? And yet, if we were to lay drawings by the two masters side by side and compare the general features of the technique, we should have to admit that there is here a perfect kinship. In both, there is that manner of seeing in patches instead of lines, something which we can call painterly, which is the distinguishing feature of the seventeenth century in comparison with the sixteenth. We encounter here a kind of vision in which the most heterogeneous artists can participate because it obviously does not bind them to a special mode of expression. Certainly an artist like Bernini needed the painterly style to say what he had to say, and it is absurd to wonder how he would have expressed himself in the draughtsmanly style of the sixteenth century. [11-12]

[...]

(1) The development from the linear to the painterly, i.e. the development of line as the path of vision and guide of the eye, and the depreciation of line in more general terms, the perception of the object by its tangible character - in outline and surfaces - on the one hand, and on the other, a perception which is by way of surrendering itself to the mere visual appearance and can abandon "tangible" design. In the former case the stress is laid on the limits of things; in the other the work tends to look limitless. Seeing by volumes and outlines isolates objects for the painterly eye, they merge. In the one case interest lies more in the perception of individual material objects as solid, tangible bodies; in the other, in the apprehension of the world as a shifting semblance. [14d]

Although in the phenomenon of linear style, line signifies only part of the matter, and the outline cannot be detached from the form it encloses, we can still use the popular definition and say for once as a beginning -
linear style sees in lines painterly in masses. Linear vision , therefore, means that the sense and beauty of things is first sought in the outline - interior forms have their outline too - that the eye is led along the boundaries and induced to feel along the edges, while seeing in masses takes place where the attention withdraws from the edges, where the outline has become more or less indifferent to the eye as the path of vision, and the primary element of the impression is things seen as patches. [18-19, boldface mine] It is here indifferent whether such patches speak as colour or only as lights and darks.

The mere presence of light and shade, even if they play an important part, is still not the factor which decides as to the painterly character of the picture. Linear art, too, has to deal with bodies and space, and needs lights and shadows to obtain the impression of plasticity. But line as fixed boundary is assigned a superior or equal value to them. [...] Everything depends on how far a preponderating significance is assigned to or withdrawn from the edges, whether they
must be read as lines or not. In the one case, the line means a track moving evenly round the form, to which the spectator can confidently entrust himself; in the other, the picture is dominated by lights and shadows, not exactly indeterminate, yet without stress on the boundaries. Only here and there does a bit of palpable outline emerge: it has ceased to exist as a uniformly sure guide through the sum of the form. Therefore, what makes the difference between Dürer and Rembrandt is not a less or more in the exploitation of light and shade, but the fact that in the one case the masses appear with stressed in the other with unstressed edges. [19a.bc, boldface mine]

As soon as the depreciation of line as boundary takes place, painterly possibilities set in. Then
it is as if at all points everything was enlivened by a mysterious movement. While strongly stressed outline fixes the presentment, it lies in the essence of a painterly representation to give it an indeterminate character: form begins to play; lights and shadows become an independent element, they seek and hold each other from height to height, from depth to depth; the whole takes on the semblance of a movement ceaselessly emanating, never ending. Whether the movement be leaping and vehement, or only a gentle quiver and flicker, it remains for the spectator inexhaustible. [19c, boldface mine]

We can thus further define the difference between the styles by saying that l
inear vision sharply distinguishes form from form, while the painterly eye on the other hand aims at the movement which passes over the sum of things. In the one case, uniformly clear lines which separate; in the other, unstressed boundaries which favour combination. Many elements go to produce the impression of a general movement - we shall speak of these - but the emaciation of the masses of light and shade till they pursue each other in independent interplay remains the basis of a painterly impression. And that means, too, that here not the separate form but the total picture is the thing that counts, for it is only in the whole that the mysterious interflow of form and light and colour can take effect, and it is obvious that here the immaterial and incorporeal must mean as much as concrete objects. [19-20, boldface mine]

[...]

A painterly impression most easily comes about when the lighting no longer subserves the distinctness of the objects, but passes over them: that is to say, when the shadows no longer adhere to the forms, but, in the conflict between the distinctness of the object and the illumination, the eye more willingly surrenders to the play of tones and forms in the picture. A painterly illumination - say in a church interior - is not the one which will make the columns and walls as distinct as possible, but, on the contrary, the one which will glide over the form and partially veil it. And in the same way, the silhouettes - if the notion can be used at all in this connection - will be apt to become inexpressive: a painterly silhouette never coincides with the form of the object. As soon as it speaks too clearly of the object, it isolates itself and checks the coalescence of the masses in the picture. [20b.c]

But with all that the decisive word is not yet said.
We must go back to the fundamental difference between draughtsmanly and painterly representation as even antiquity understood it - the former represents things as they are, the latter as they seem to be. This definition sound rather rough, and to philosophic ears, almost intolerable. For is not everything appearance? And what kind of a sense has it to speak of things as they are? In art, however, these notions have their permanent right of existence. There is a style which, essentially objective in outlook, aims at perceiving things and expressing them in their solid, tangible relations, and conversely, there is a style which more subjective in attitude, bases the representation on the picture, in which the visual appearance of things looks real to the eye, and which has often retained so little resemblance to our conception of the real form of things. [20-21, boldface mine]

Linear style is the style of distinctness plastically felt. The evenly firm and clear boundaries of solid objects give the spectator a feeling of security, as if he could move along them with his fingers, and all the modelling shadows follow the form so completely that the sense of touch is actually challenged.
Representation and thing are, so to speak, identical. The painterly style, on the other hand, has more or less emancipated itself from things as they are. For it, there is no longer a continuous outline and the plastic surfaces are dissolved. Drawing and modelling no longer coincide in the geometric sense with the underlying plastic form, but give only the visual semblance of the thing.[21a, boldface mine]

Where nature shows a curve, we perhaps find here an angle, and instead of evenly progressive increase and decrease of light, light and shade now appear fitfully, in ungradated masses Only the
appearance of reality is seized - something quite different from what linear art created with its plastically conditioned vision, and just for that reason, the signs which the painterly style uses can have no further direct relation to the real form. The pictorial form remains indeterminate, and must not settle into those lines and curves which correspond to the tangibility of real objects. [21b, boldface mine]

The tracing out of a figure with an evenly clear line has still an element of physical grasping. The operation which the eye performs resembles the operation of the hand which feels along the body, and the modelling which repeats reality in the gradation of light also appeals to the sense of touch. A painterly representation, on the other hand, excludes this analogy.
It has its roots only in the eye and appeals only to the eye, and just as the child ceases to take hold of things in order to "grasp" them, so mankind has ceased to test the picture for its tactile values. A more developed art has learned to surrender itself to mere appearance. [21c, boldface mine]




Wölfflin, Heinrich.
Renaissance and Baroque. Excerpted in Art in Theory 1815-1900 : An Anthology of Changing Ideas. Kathrin Simon, transl. Charles Harrison, Paul Wood, and Jason Gaiger, eds. Oxford: Blackwell, 2003.

Wölfflin, Heinrich. Principles of Art History: The Problem of the Development of Style in Later Art. M.D. Hottinger, tranls. New York: Dover Publications, 1950. Parts available at:http://web.sxu.edu/mdr1/222/wolfflin/wolfflin_principles.htm



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12 Feb 2010

Freedom is Irreversible §93 Time and Free Will. Bergson

by Corry Shores
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[The following is summary; my commentary is in brackets.]





Freedom is Irreversible


Henri Bergson

Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness
Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience

Ch.III
The Organization of Conscious States; Free Will
De l'organization des états de conscience: la liberté

Part XXX: Physical Determinism


Previously Bergson explained that those who adopt a psychological determinism also often take-up a physiological determinism. Recall the role that the law of the conservation of energy plays in this union of psychological and physiological determinism. Our minds are made of molecules. They move about according to forces acting on them. Because these forces are determined, their movement can be predicted. Our mental states are the products of our brain's molecular states. So our mental states would seem to be determined. If we were to have a free thought, that would mean that our brain's molecules would need to move in a way contrary to the forces acting upon it. This means extra energy would need to spontaneously arise in our brains. But the law of energy conservation says that no new energy can emerge within a system in this way. Thus our brain molecules would not be able to move freely, and thus our minds could not have a free thought.


§93 It Implies That a System Can Return to Its Original State. Neglects Duration, Hence Inapplicable to Living Beings and Conscious States


The law of the conservation of energy holds sway in the sciences of Bergson's time. However, he says, it was not always this way, and hence it is not a necessary fixture for all scientific research.

Consider first when we perform operations on a mathematical equation. We might subtract a figure from one side, but then we add it to the other. In these ways, we maintain the same [relative] quantity for the equation. This implies that the quantity is permanent, no matter how much we break it apart. So "whatever is given is given, what is not given is not given, and in whatever order we add up the same terms we shall get the same result" (150d). Science always must obey this law. [If we were to add a number to one side but not subtract it from the other, then their values would be unequal, and there would be a contradiction. Hence,] it is little more than the law of non-contradiction. It tells us that something cannot come from nothing. It applies only to systems that maintain their quantities. However, experience might tell us that there are systems where this rule does not apply. Descartes believed in this law of conservation. But we do not know if all other physicists before Leibniz also held this position as well. Must we disregard their findings if they did not presume the law of the conservation of a fixed quantity of motion in the universe? For long science progressed without the theory. In the form it takes in Bergson's time, it seems to apply to nearly all physico-chemical phenomena. However, it is still possible that we will find a new kind of energy "rebelling against calculation" in physical and nervous systems (152a). This would not disprove the law of energy conservation as much as it would limit it to a certain range of systems.

The most radical form of mechanistic theories regards consciousness as a secondary parallel phenomenon (an epiphenomenon) to molecular movements. Conscious states would depend upon the brain's physical states, so we also say that mental states supervene upon brain states. This means that a change in the brain's molecular movement will create a change in brain state. Bergson then wonders if the inverse could not also be the case, that changes in mind states could cause changes in brain states. When brain states change, they in a way add energy to our mental state systems. So if there is energy in our mental state systems, could it not be used to change or add the energy in the physical brain system?

[When we use the law of conservation of energy, we are treating a system as though all its motions are mathematically determinable. That means we could deduce prior states or predict future ones. So when we arrive at the future state, we could also calculate the motions in reverse to tell us the state we began with. In a way also, the bodies in motion could have their motions reversed so that they return to their original states. Yet some processes cannot be reversed. Soon we will look at Prigogine's & Stengers' explanation. For now we refer to this helpful page by F. Heylighen. We imagine a box with two chambers. There is a hole leading from one side to the other. Many gas particles are placed in the one side. Slowly particles from the filled side will move to the empty side. But also, ones from the initially empty side will move back. In the beginning, it is most probable that all or nearly all the particles are on the initially-filled side. But after a while, they will tend to balance. Once at a balance, it is extraordinarily unlikely that all the molecules will again be found on the initially-filled side again. Hence this would be an irreversible process. Haresh Khemani explains here (citing Engineering Thermodynamics by P K Nag) that such irreversible processes are called natural processes, because all processes in nature are irreversible.] Bergson writes that the law of energy conservation only applies to systems whose points may return to their former positions. If the changes were irreversible, then time would leave its mark in the system, or "bite into it" as he puts it. If we observe some piece of inert matter, we do not necessarily see some mark of time's effect on it. On those grounds we often generalize the principle. But this is not the case when we observe living things in nature. No living being as far as we know has been able to reverse its biological processes to return to an earlier state. A biological system is infinitely complex. [Just as it is too improbable that the gas particles of the double chamber would return to a state where they are all in one chamber again, so too,] it is completely improbable that the molecules of a biological system will return to a previous arrangement. [Consider also how there is a developmental process to conscious states. It seems like time itself changes internally-experienced states, even if it is the same state that is prolonged. Hence] Bergson writes, "even a sensation, by the mere fact of being prolonged, is altered to the point of becoming unbearable" (153cd). It is as though the same state becomes "swollen by the whole of its past" (153d). So according to the mechanical calculations of material bodies, things seem to remain in an eternal present. However, the past is a true reality for conscious beings. So for systems that obey the law of energy conservation, the addition or subtraction of time does little to add or subtract from the system. However for living beings and especially for conscious beings, time does produce a gain (153d), as Bergson puts it, "here duration certainly seems to act like a cause" (153a).

[So the law of energy conservation does not apply to mental states, because mental states are irreversible and time adds something to the system, rather than conserve everything. We noted previously that the law of conservation is the ground for psychological determinism. Hence the mind might not be determined, and instead could be free. Thus] we might have cause then to consider the "hypothesis of a conscious force or free will, which, subject to the action of time and storing up duration, may thereby escape the law of the conservation of energy" (154a).




Images of the pages summarized above, from the English translation [click to enlarge]:













Images of the pages summarized above, from the original French [click to enlarge]:










Bergson, Henri. Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness. Transl. F.L. Pogson. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2001. Available online at:http://www.archive.org/details/timeandfreewill00pogsgoog

Bergson, Henri. Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience. Originally published, Paris: Les Presses universitaires de France, 1888. Available online at:http://www.archive.org/details/essaisurlesdonn00berguoft

26 Jan 2010

Astronomical Atoms. Neural Atomic Mechanism in Lange's History of Materialism

by Corry Shores
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Astronomical Atoms
Neural Atomic Mechanism
in Lange's History of Materialism


In §88 of Time and Free Will, Bergson refers to Lange's History of Materialism, Vol. 2, Part 2. We will examine a part of that text that corresponds to Bergson's description. Bergson writes:

As, moreover, the principle of the conservation of energy has been assumed to admit of no exception, there is not an atom, either in the nervous system or in the whole of the universe, whose position is not determined by the sum of the mechanical actions which the other atoms exert upon it. And the mathematician who knew the position of the molecules or atoms of a human organism at a given moment, as well as the position and motion of all the atoms in the universe capable of influencing it, could calculate with unfailing certainty the past, present and future actions of the person to whom this organism belongs, just as one predicts an astronomical phenomenon. [ft1: On this point see Lange, History of Materialism, Vol. ii, Part ii.] (Bergson 144b.c/d, emphasis mine)

Comme d'ailleurs le principe de la conservation de l'énergie a été supposé inflexible, il n'y a point d'atome, ni dans le système nerveux ni dans l'immensité de l'univers, dont la position ne soit déterminée par la somme des actions mécaniques que les autres atomes exercent sur lui. Et le mathématicien qui connaîtrait la position des molécules ou atomes d'un organisme humain à un moment donné, ainsi que la position et le mouvement de tous les atomes de l'univers capables de l'influencer, calculerait avec une précision infaillible les actions passées, présentes et futures de la personne à qui cet organisme appartient, comme on prédit un phénomène astronomique. [ftI: Voir à ce propos Lange, Histoire du matérialisme, trad. française, tome II, 2e partie.] (110c.d/d, emphasis mine)

Lange will discuss Du Bois-Reymond's 'On the limits of the Knowledge of Nature,' which he 'delivered at the meeting of the German Scientific and Medical Association at Leipzig in 1872' (Lange, Book 2, Section 2, Chapter 1, 308a).

In this text, it seems Du Bois-Reymond will demonstrate that we cannot apply a mechanistic approach to completely predict the future. He begins by assuming for argument's sake the hypothesis that 'All knowledge of nature has its ultimate aim in the mechanism of atoms' (Lange 308ab). In accordance with this assumption, Du Bois-Reymond proposes the seemingly impossible goal of obtaining complete knowledge of the atomic mechanisms (308b).

Lange quotes Du Bois-Reymond as describing a sort of Laplace's demon situation:

a mind which should know for a given very small period of time the position and movement of all the atoms in the universe, would also necessarily be in a position to derive from these, in accordance with the laws of mechanics, the whole past and future. It could, by an appropriate treatment of its world-formula, tell us who was the Iron Mask, or how the 'President' came to grief. As the astronomer predicts the day on which, after many years, a comet again appears in the vault of heaven from the depths of space, so this 'mind' would read in its equations the day when the Greek cross will glitter from the mosque of Sophia or when England will burn its last lump of coal. (Du Bois-Reymond, qtd in Lange 308b.c, emphasis mine)

This mechanistic world is "dumb and dark," devoid of qualities. It is only when sentient beings sense qualities that they appear: 'Light first was when the first red eye-point of an infusorium for the first time distinguished between light and dark.' Outside sensations, the objective world can only be measured and quantified.

Du Bois-Reymond then notes two problems with this Laplacean outcome. In the first place, our minds are not capable of grasping the motions of the countless particles even in the smallest objects. And secondly, we could never explain consciousness on the basis of molecular motion.

Note also that we cannot conceive of physical behavior without the use of sense qualities. So we always must convert our sense qualities into quantities. In a sense, our knowledge of nature is really a substitute for a complete and unmediated understanding.

Du Bois-Reymond then addresses the viewpoint that regards life forms in mechanistic terms. Lange writes:

Crystal and organism differ from each other as a mere building differs from a factory with its engines and machinery, into which raw material pours, and from which manufactures, waste materials, and refuse pour out again. We have here nothing more than an "extremely difficult mechanical problem." The richest nature-picture of a tropical forest offers to analysing science nothing but matter in motion. (310a)

Moreover, says Du Bois-Reymond, we cannot begin to understand the atomic mechanisms of our body's functioning. They are all insuperably obscure, consciousness included. Du Bois-Reymond will now explain this.

We begin by assuming that we have a "complete ('astronomical') knowledge of the processes in the brain" (310cd, emphasis mine). We would then be able to say that "in a particular intellectual process a particular movement of particular atoms took place in particular ganglionic centres and nervous tubes" (Du Bois-Reymond qtd in Lange 310d, emphasis mine).

Yet the problem is that knowing the motion of atoms will tell us nothing about how consciousness results from those motions. It can only describe and predict the movements. But how the motions translate into consciousness will remain a mystery.

"The astronomical knowledge of the brain, the highest knowledge we can attain, reveals to us nothing but matter in motion." But if we suppose that from this knowledge certain intellectual processes or dispositions, as memory, the association of ideas, and so on, might become intelligible, that too is delusion; we only learn certain conditions of intellectual life, but do not learn how the intellectual life is itself developed from these conditions. "What conceivable connection exists between, certain movements of certain atoms in my brain on the one hand, and on the other the to me original and not further definable but undeniable facts, 'I feel pain, feel pleasure; I take something sweet, smell roses, hear organ-sounds, see something red,' and the just as immediately resulting certainty, 'therefore I am'? . . . It is impossible to see how from the co-operation of the atoms consciousness can result. Even if I were to attribute consciousness to the atoms, that would neither explain consciousness in general, nor would that in any way help us to understand the unitary consciousness of the individual." (Du Bois-Reymond qtd in Lange 311a-d, emphasis mine).

So when speaking of mechanism, Du Bois-Reymond 'amongst the atoms includes also the brain-atoms of man, and that for him man' (315a). [Now, in this mechanistic scheme, a fixed amount of energy is being exchanged in a system. In order for an atom to move voluntarily, it would need extra energy in order to break from the forces already determining its motion. If we were to consider our thoughts to be spontaneous, while also being reducible to atoms, we would need to keep adding energy to our brain system in order for the atoms to move freely (against the determined forces influencing them). So] according to this mechanistic view, thoughts would not be able to influence the material events of the brain (315b). 'Were it possible for a single cerebral atom to be moved by 'thought' only so much as the millionth of a millimetre out of the path assigned to it by the laws of mechanics, the whole 'world-formula' would become inapplicable and unmeaning' (315b). [But the mechanistic view regards humans objectively. It only sees their actions. So from this view,] no human actions result from thoughts but rather from muscular movements, 'whether these serve to make a march, to draw a sword or guide a pen, to give utterance to the word of command, or to fix the eye upon a point of attack' (315c). And, we may reduce these movements back to the determined motions of the atoms.

The muscular movements are set free by nervous activity; this arises from the functions of the brain, and these are entirely determined by the structure of the brain, by the sensory conductors and by the atomic movements of molecular changes and so on, under the influence of the centripetal nervous activity. (315cd)

[Spontaneous, action-inducing thoughts would require extra energy introduced into the motions of the brain's atoms. Hence:]

We must quite realise that the law of the conservation of energy can undergo no exception in the interior of the brain without becoming wholly meaningless, and we must rise to the conclusion therefore that the whole activity of man, individuals as well as peoples, might go on, as it actually does go on, without the occurring in any single individual of anything resembling a thought or a sensation. (315-316, emphasis mine)

In the next section he writes:

But as to this material and its elements sensation and the consciousness of motor impulses we must carry out, in the strictest sense of the word, the law of the conservation of energy. (154c, Book 2, Section 3, Chapter 2, emphasis mine)

Later he speaks of how we cannot consider our thoughts as being free and independent from causal mechanistic series [our brain's atoms cannot add new energy, hence no spontaneity of our mind].

we cannot regard the 'thought' as a separate product in addition to the material phenomena, but that the subjective state of the sentient individual is' at the same time to external observation an objective one, a molecular movement. This objective state must, on the law of the conservation of energy, fit into the unbroken causal series. (160a, emphasis mine)


Images from relevant pages of the text. Click to enlarge.

Book 2, Section 2, Chapter 1:











Book 2, Section 3, Chapter 2:









Lange, Frederick. History of Materialism and Criticism of its Present Importance. Transl. Ernest Thomas. The Humanities Press, 1950. Available online at: http://www.archive.org/details/historyofmateria011510mbp


Bergson, Henri. Time and Free Will: An Essay on the Immediate Data of Consciousness. Transl. F.L. Pogson. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2001. Available online at:http://www.archive.org/details/timeandfreewill00pogsgoog

Bergson, Henri. Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience. Originally published, Paris: Les Presses universitaires de France, 1888. Available online at:http://www.archive.org/details/essaisurlesdonn00berguoft