b. Mr. Spencer speaks of a "vague," an "indefinite consciousness." The expression "vague consciousness" being a popular and very common one, deserves a careful examination, and this we hope to give it, keeping in mind meantime the position already attained.
The phrase is used in some such connection as this, "I have a vague or undefined consciousness of impending evil." Let us analyze this experience. In doing so it will be observed that the consciousness, or rather the seeing by the person in the light of consciousness, is positive, clear, and definite, and is the apprehension of a feeling. Again, the feeling is positive and distinct; it is a feeling of dread, of threatening danger. What, then, is vague—is undefined? This. That cause which produces the feeling lies without the reach of the cognitive faculties, and of course cannot be known; because what produces the feeling is unknown, the intellectual apprehension experiences a sense of vagueness; and this it instinctively carries over and applies to the feeling. Yet really the sense of vagueness arises from an ignorance of the cause of the feeling. Strictly speaking, then, it is not consciousness that is vague; and so Mr. Spencer's "indefinite consciousness, which cannot be formulated," has no foundation in fact. But this may be shown by another line of thought. Consciousness is commensurate with knowledge, i. e., man can have no knowledge except he is conscious of that knowledge; neither can he have any consciousness except he knows that the consciousness is, and what the consciousness is, i. e., what he is conscious of. Now all knowledge is definite; it is only ignorance that is indefinite. When we say that our knowledge of an object is indefinite, we mean that we partly know its characteristics, and are partly ignorant of them. Thus then also the result above stated follows; and what Mr. Spencer calls "indefinite consciousness" is a "definite consciousness" that we partly know, and are partly ignorant of the object under consideration.
In the last paragraph but one, of the chapter now under consideration, Mr. Spencer makes a most extraordinary assertion respecting consciousness, which, when examined in the light of the positions we have advocated, affords another decisive evidence of the fallacy of his theory. We quote it again, that the reader may not miss of giving it full attention. "By its very nature, therefore, this ultimate mental element is at once necessarily indefinite and necessarily indestructible. Our consciousness of the unconditioned being literally the unconditioned consciousness, or raw material of thought, to which in thinking we give definite forms, it follows that an ever-present sense of real existence is the very basis of our intelligence." Upon reading this passage, the question spontaneously arises, What does the writer mean? and it is a question which is not so easily answered. More than one interpretation may be assigned, as will appear upon examination. A problem is given. To find what the "raw material of thought" is. Since man has thoughts, there must be in him the "raw material of thought"—the crude thought-ore which he smelts down in the blast-furnace of the Understanding, giving forth in its stead the refined metal—exact thought. We must then proceed to attain our answer by analyzing man's natural organization.
Since man is a complex, constituted being, there is necessarily a logical order to the parts which are combined in the complexity. He may be considered as a substance in which a constitution inheres, i. e., which is organized according to a set of fixed laws, and that set of laws may be stated in their logical order. It is sufficient, however, for our purpose to consider him as an organized substance, the organization being such that he is a person—a selfhood, self-active and capable of self-examination. The raw material of all the activities of such a person is this organized substance. Take away the substance, and there remains only the set of laws as abstract ideas. Again, take away the set of laws, and the substance is simple, unorganized substance. In the combining of the two the person becomes. These, then, are all there is of the person, and therefore in these must the raw material be. From this position it follows directly that any capacity or faculty, or, in general, every activity of the person, is the substance acting in accordance with the law which determines that form of the activity. To explain the term, form of activity. There is a set of laws. Each law, by itself, is a simple law, and is incapable of organizing a substance into a being. But when these laws are considered, as they naturally stand in the Divine Reason, in relation to each other, it is seen that this, their standing together, constitutes ideals, or forms of being and activity. To illustrate from an earthly object. The law of gravitation alone could not organize a Universe; neither could the law of cohesion, nor of centripetal, nor centrifugal force, nor any other one law. All these laws must be acting together,—or rather all these laws must stand together in perfect harmony, according to their own nature, thus constituting an ideal form, in accordance with which God may create this Universe. For an illustration of our topic in its highest form, the reader is referred to those pages of Dr. Hickok's "Rational Psychology," where he analyzes personality into its elements of Spontaneity, Autonomy, and Liberty. From that examination it is sufficiently evident that either of these alone cannot organize a person, but that all three must be present in order to constitute such a being. There are, then, various forms of activity in the person, as Reason, Sensibility, and Will, in each of which the organized substance acts in a mode or form, and this form is determined by the set of organizing laws. Consciousness also is such a form. The "raw material of thought," then, must be this substance considered under the peculiar form of activity which we call consciousness, but before the substance thus formulated has been awakened into activity by those circumstances which are naturally suited to it, for bringing it into action. Now, by the very terms of the statement it is evident that the substance thus organized in this form, or, to use the common term, consciousness considered apart from and prior to its activity, can never be known by experience, i. e., we can never be conscious of an unconscious state. "Unconditioned consciousness" is consciousness considered as quiescent because in it have been awakened no "definite forms"—no "thinking." "In the nature of things," then, it is impossible to be conscious of an "unconditioned consciousness." Yet Mr. Spencer says that "our consciousness of the unconditioned," which he has already asserted and proved, is a "positive," and therefore an active state; is identical with, is "literally the unconditioned consciousness," or consciousness in its quiescent state, considered before it had been awakened into activity, which is far more absurd than what was just above shown to be a contradiction.
To escape such a result, a less objectionable interpretation may be given to the dictum in hand. It may be said that it looks upon consciousness only as an activity, and in the logical order after its action has begun. We are, then, conscious, and in this is positive action, but no definite object is present which gives a form in consciousness, and so consciousness returns upon itself. We are conscious that we are conscious, which is an awkward way of saying that we are self-conscious, or, more concisely yet, that we are conscious; for accurately this is all, and this is the same as to say that the subject and object are identical in this act. The conclusion from this hypothesis is one which we judge Mr. Spencer will be very loath to accept, and yet it seems logically to follow. Indeed, in a sentence we are about to quote, he seems to make a most marked distinction between self-consciousness and this "consciousness of the unconditioned," which he calls its "obverse."
But whatever Mr. Spencer's notion of the "raw material of thought" is, what more especially claims our attention and is most strange, is his application of that notion. To present this more clearly, we will quote further from the passage already under examination. "As we can in successive mental acts get rid of all particular conditions, and replace them by others, but cannot get rid of that undifferentiated substance of consciousness, which is conditioned anew in every thought, there ever remains with us a sense of that which exists persistently and independently of conditions. At the same time that by the laws of thought we are rigorously prevented from forming a conception of absolute existence, we are by the laws of thought equally prevented from ridding ourselves of the consciousness of absolute existence: this consciousness being, as we here see, the obverse of our self-consciousness." Now, by comparing this extract with the other, which it immediately follows, it seems plain that Mr. Spencer uses as synonymous the phrases "consciousness of the unconditioned," "unconditioned consciousness," "raw material of thought," "undifferentiated substance of consciousness," and "consciousness of absolute existence." Let us note, now, certain conclusions, which seem to follow from this use of language. We are conscious "of absolute existence." No person can be conscious except he is conscious of some state or condition of his being. Absolute existence is, therefore, a state or condition of our being. Also this "consciousness of absolute existence"—as it seems our absolute existence—is the "raw material of thought." But, again, as was shown above, this "raw material," this "undifferentiated substance of consciousness," if it is anything, is consciousness considered as capacity, and in the logical order before it becomes, or is, active; and it further appeared that of this quiescent state we could have no knowledge by experience. But since the above phrases are synonymous, it follows that "consciousness of absolute existence" is the "undifferentiated substance of consciousness," is a consciousness of which we can have no knowledge by experience, is a consciousness of which we can have no consciousness. Is this philosophy?
It would be but fair to suppose that there is some fact which Mr. Spencer has endeavored to express in the language we are criticizing. There is such a fact, a statement of which will complete this criticism. Unquestionably, in self-examination, a man may abstract all "successive mental acts," may consider himself as he is, in the logical order before he has experiences. In this he will find "that an ever-present sense of real existence is the very basis of our intelligence"; or, in other words, that it is an organic law of our being that there cannot be an experience without a being to entertain the experience; and hence that it is impossible for a man to think or act, except on the assumption that he is. But all this has nothing to do with a "consciousness of the unconditioned," or of "absolute existence"; for our existence is not absolute, and it is our existence of which we are conscious. The reality and abidingness of our existence is ground for our experience, nothing more. Even if it were possible for us to have a consciousness of our state before any experience, or to actually now abstract all experience, and be conscious of our consciousness unmodified by any object, i. e. to be conscious of unconsciousness, this would not be a "consciousness of absolute existence." We could find no more in it, and deduce no more from it, than that our existence was involved in our experience. Such a consciousness would indeed appear "unconditioned" by the coming into it of any activity, which would give a form in it; but this would give us no notion of true unconditionedness—true "absolute existence." This consciousness, though undisturbed by any experience, would yet be conditioned, would have been created, and be dependent upon God for continuance in existence, and for a chance to come into circumstances, where it could be modified by experiences, and so could grow. While, then, Mr. Spencer's theory gives us the fact of the notion of the necessity of our existence to our experience, it in no way accounts for the fact of our consciousness of the unconditioned, be that what it may.
But to return from this considerable digression to the result which was attained a few pages back, viz: that what Mr. Spencer calls "indefinite consciousness" is a "definite consciousness" that we partly know, and are partly ignorant of the object under consideration. Let this conclusion be applied to the topic which immediately concerns us,—the character of God.
But three suppositions are possible. Either we know nothing of God, not even that he is; or we have a partial knowledge of him, we know that he is, and all which we can logically deduce from this; or we know him exhaustively. The latter, no one pretends, and therefore it needs no notice. The first, even if our own arguments are not deemed satisfactory, has been thoroughly refuted by Mr. Spencer, and so is to be set aside. Only the second remains. Respecting this, his position is that we know that God is and no more. Admit this for a moment. We are conscious then of a positive, certain, inalienable knowledge that God is; but that with reference to any and all questions which may arise concerning him we are in total ignorance. Here, again, it is apparent that it is not our consciousness or knowledge that is vague; it is our ignorance.
We might suggest the question—of what use can it be to man to know that God is, and be utterly and necessarily, yea, organically ignorant of what he is? Let the reader answer the question to his own mind. It is required to show how the theory advocated in this book will appear in the light of the second hypothesis above stated.