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Thursday, 1 December 2016

The Problems of Philosophy

Summary
The Problems of Philosophy is an introduction to the discipline of philosophy, written during a Cambridge lectureship that Russell held in 1912. In it, Russell asks the fundamental question, “Is there any knowledge in the world which is so certain that no reasonable man could doubt it?” Russell sketches out the metaphysical and epistemological views he held at the time, views that would develop and change over the rest of his career.
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Russell begins by exploring the twin concepts of appearance and reality. Empiricists like Russell believe that all knowledge is ultimately derived from our sensory perceptions of the world around us. Individual perception, however, is easily affected and prone to error. If three people—one who’s had three martinis, one with a heavy fever, and one who’s color-blind—look at the same table, chances are they’ll each see the same object somewhat differently. Submerge the same table underwater, or set it behind a wavy pane of glass, and once again the table will look different. There is, then, a distinction to be made between appearance and reality. If perception is so variable, what can it actually tell us about the stable, real object we assume lies behind it?
Russell coined the term “sense-data” in his attempt to discern the relationship between appearance and reality. Sense-data are the particular things we perceive during the act of sensation. When you walk into a cafĂ©, the smell of the coffee, the redness of the awning, and the heat from the radiator are all examples of sense-data. Sense-data are the mental images (visual as well as auditory, olfactory, tactile, and gustatory) we receive from a given object in the physical world. As we can see from the table example, the same object can produce variable sense-data. Sense-data are related to the physical objects they represent, but the exact nature of this relationship is unclear. The skeptical argument contends that sense-data tell us nothing about the reality of the object. Russell had a commonsense take on the matter: while he understood the skeptical arguments, he found no reason to believe them. A hundred different viewers may have a thousand different kinds of sense-data for a given table, yet each agrees that they are looking at the same table. This consistency suggests, to Russell, that we must at least believe in the existence of a single, particular, real table. To this “instinctive” belief, Russell also adds the hypothesis that physical objects cause the sense-data we receive and therefore correspond to them in some significant way.
During the act of sensation (i.e., the exercising of our five senses), we receive and process the sense-data produced by physical objects in our vicinity. The knowledge we gain during this process Russell calls “perceptual knowledge”—knowledge gained through experience. In contrast, Russell believes we are also in possession of certain kinds of a priori knowledge. These include the self-evident rules of logic, most important, and those of mathematics. Perceptual knowledge (the knowledge of things) and a priori knowledge (the knowledge of truths) work in concert: the first gives us empirical data, and the second tells us how to process that data.
Russell further divides human knowledge into knowledge by acquaintance and knowledge by description. To be acquainted with something is to be directly and immediately aware of it, without the action of an intermediary. When you sit on a red plastic chair, you become acquainted with lots of sense-data associated with that chair. You know its redness, its smoothness, its coolness, and its hardness. But to know that this thing is called a “chair” and that it’s often found in the company of other “chairs” and something called a “table” requires more than just direct, immediate acquaintance with the physical object. To know all that requires us to make inferences, based on our general knowledge of facts and on our acquaintance with other similar objects. This kind of knowledge is derivative, and Russell terms it “knowledge by description.” For instance, most of us know only by description that Everest is the tallest mountain in the world. Few of us have actually been there, so we have to rely on the testimony of others to “know” that fact. Indeed, to truly be acquainted with the fact of Everest’s superior height, one would have to visit and measure all the mountains in the world. It’s probably safe to say, then, that no one is truly acquainted with that particular piece of knowledge.
Just as we can know objects either immediately or derivatively, we can also know truths immediately or derivatively. Russell defines immediate knowledge of truths as intuitive truths. These are concepts that, to Russell, are so clearly self-evident that we just know they must be true. “1 + 1 = 2” is an example of such a self-evident truth. Derivative knowledge of truths involves deduction and inference from immediate, self-evident truths.
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All knowledge is, in Russell’s view, built on acquaintance. Without knowledge by description, however, we would never pass beyond the limits of our own individual experience. Thus, just like perceptual and a priori knowledge, knowledge by acquaintance and knowledge by description work together to create a totality of human knowledge.
Analysis
The Problems of Philosophy represents Russell’s first major attempt at mapping out a theory of epistemology, or a theory of the nature of human knowledge. Russell’s attempt to discern what kinds of knowledge, if any, could be considered reasonably certain is similar to the goal of Principia Mathematica, which is to find an undeniable reason for believing in the supposed truths of mathematics. Both branches of Russell’s work—the mathematical and the more traditionally philosophical—have at their heart Russell’s steadfast devotion to rigorous analysis and his reluctance to accept any proposition (no matter how obvious or commonsense seeming) without a concrete, logical reason for doing so.
Beginning with this work and continuing through Our Knowledge of the External World and beyond, Russell sought to describe the relationship between knowledge, perception, and physics (the study of the material, physical world). Fundamental to Russell’s theories was a belief that the physical world does, in fact, exist. Almost two decades earlier, Russell had rejected idealism—the theory that reality is not physical but exists only in the mind—in favor of realism, the belief that objects exist independently of our perception or experience. The theories of epistemology described in Problems of Philosophy fit squarely within the British empiricist tradition, in that they claim that the data gained from personal, immediate experience is the starting point of all human knowledge. In Russell’s system, data gained from personal, immediate experience are termed “knowledge by acquaintance.”
According to Russell, any proposition we know “by description” must be wholly made up of things we know by acquaintance. If we assume this, then there are some consequences for what, exactly, it is possible to know by description. Suppose you make a proposition about Julius Caesar: you say, for example, “Julius Caesar launched the first Roman invasion of Britain.” You are not actually acquainted with Julius Caesar himself, since you have no direct, immediate experience of the man. What you hold in your mind is a description of him. You may know of him as “the founder of the Roman Empire,” for example, or “the man assassinated on the Ides of March,” or “the subject of the marble bust in my local library.” Thus, when you say, “Julius Caesar launched the first Roman invasion of Britain,” you’re not really asserting something about the real Julius Caesar—you can’t be, as you have no direct knowledge of him. Instead, you’re asserting something about the collection of facts and ideas about Caesar with which you are acquainted. No matter how many facts we may learn about Caesar, we can still only know him by description. We can never reach a point where we directly know him by acquaintance. The general thrust of this argument foreshadows Russell’s work in logical atomism, which argues that statements can be broken down into a series of constituent assumptions. The argument is also tied to Russell’s Theory of Descriptions, which explains how definite descriptions—phrases like that cat, Bill Cosby, or my mother, which refer to specific, particular objects—are just shorthand for a series of logical claims. Similarly, when we use the phrase Julius Caesar, we’re using the name to refer not to the man himself but to a series of facts and descriptions we have learned about him.
The Problems of Philosophy was meant to be an introduction to the field, and as such, Russell’s arguments aren’t as thorough as we might expect from the founder of analytic philosophy. He often errs on the side of “illustrating” his points rather than meticulously mapping them out. While the book makes strong appeals to common sense, there are still elements that have greatly troubled critics. One such problem lies with Russell’s notion of intuitive knowledge. Russell never satisfactorily explains what, exactly, makes a truth self-evident, and he does not provide sufficient examples of these intuitive, immediate truths. Russell also provides no plan for distinguishing between two apparently self-evident truths that nevertheless contradict each other.
The concept of sense-data, as set out by Russell, has also proved problematic. Russell takes it as a given that sense-data are the building blocks of perception. We look at a table and we sense its brownness, its hardness, and its rectangularity. From these sense-data, we construct our idea of the table. Other philosophers argue that, upon seeing a table, we are immediately aware of the object as a table, and it is only later, when we stop to concentrate on what we see, that we consciously notice the object’s color, its texture, or its shape. According to these thinkers, sense-data as defined by Russell cannot be the most primitive, direct element of experience because it requires too much conscious effort to be aware of them.
Finally, a major issue in Problems of Philosophy lies in the fact that, to Russell, all knowledge is built on knowledge by acquaintance, or the things we know through direct, personal experience. Russell accepts a fundamentally Cartesian point of view, which means he accepts that the proper foundation for philosophical inquiry is individual consciousness and perspective. But how can a theory of knowledge be built on private experiences if this theory is supposed to apply to all beings? This problem (among others) bothered Russell, and in his next major epistemological work, Our Knowledge of the External World, he begins to push his inquiry into the public sphere
Context
Although he was best known for his contributions to logic and philosophy, Bertrand Russell’s range of interests was impressively wide. He was engaged in what seemed to be the entire extent of human endeavor: not only was he deeply involved with mathematics, philosophy, science, and logic, but he was also interested in political activism, social justice, education, and sexual morality. His influence has been so pervasive that in some ways it has become difficult for us to appreciate its full impact. Russell’s work has fundamentally changed the way philosophy is practiced and the way we understand logic, mathematics, and science.
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Bertrand Arthur William Russell was born into a privileged English family on May 18, 1872. He was the grandson of Lord John Russell, who was the first Earl of Russell as well as a former prime minister. Bertrand’s early life was traumatic: orphaned by the age of four, he and his elder brother Frank were sent to live with their strict grandparents. Lord Russell died when Bertrand was six, and thereafter the boys were raised by their austerely religious, authoritarian grandmother. Russell’s youth was filled with rules and prohibitions, and his earliest desire was to free himself from such constraints. His lifelong distrust of religion no doubt stems from this early experience. As was customary for children of his social class, Russell was initially tutored at home. Later, he attended Trinity College, Cambridge, where he achieved first-class honors in mathematics and philosophy. At Cambridge, under the tutelage of the Hegelian philosopher J.M.E. McTaggart, Russell became a proponent of idealism, the belief that all reality is ultimately a product of the mind. Some years after graduating, however, Russell and his colleague G.E. Moore came to reject idealism in favor of realism, the belief that the external world exists independently of experience and consciousness. Russell became part of a general revitalization of empiricism, the belief that all human knowledge is derived from our sensory experience of the external world. By the time Russell published the philosophical works discussed here (The Problems of Philosophy and Our Knowledge of the External World), he was working firmly in the empiricist tradition.
Russell graduated from Cambridge in 1894 and was briefly an attaché at the British Embassy in Paris. In 1895, he returned to England, where he became a fellow of Trinity College and married his first wife, Alys Pearsall Smith. A year later, after a visit to Berlin, he published German Social Democracy, the first of his seventy-odd books.
Russell’s important early work was concerned with mathematics. Russell’s great contribution to logic and mathematics was his defense of logicism—that is, the theory that all mathematics can, in some fundamental way, be reduced to logical principles. The logicist project was important because, if it could be achieved, then mathematics would be established as a field of certain knowledge and not one of conjecture. Mathematics could legitimately be considered a priori knowledge, meaning knowledge that is necessary and self-evident, completely objective, and independent of human experience. The search for legitimately a priori knowledge has been a major occupation of philosophy throughout history. Over the course of his career, Russell remained preoccupied with the questions of what we can know with absolute certainty and how we can know it. The Principia Mathematica, Russell’s three-volume treatise on logicism, coauthored with A. N. Whitehead, is full of painstaking proofs that attempt to establish that numbers, arithmetic, and all mathematical principles can be derived from formal logic. This dedication to rigor and interest in justification is a recurring characteristic in Russell’s work.
Along with G. E. Moore and with Russell’s student Ludwig Wittgenstein, Russell is considered one of the founding proponents of analytic philosophy. Analytic philosophy describes both a historical tradition (the tradition following Moore and Russell) and a general approach to the practice of philosophy. Analytic philosophy—which has come to be virtually synonymous with “logical positivism”—refers to a belief that philosophy should be executed with the same rigor and precision as scientific inquiry. Analytic philosophy is characterized by a skeptical distrust of assumptions and a methodical system of analysis based on logic. Just as he used logic to describe the foundations of mathematics in Principia Mathematica, Russell would use logic to clarify philosophy, through his concept of logical atomism, and linguistics, through his theory of descriptions. Although the subject matter differed across his career, Russell’s analytic methodology remained more or less constant. Many of the particulars of Russell’s analysis have been challenged or refuted, but his legacy as an analyst remains undeniably influential.
Although Russell’s intellectual reputation is based on his work as a mathematician, philosopher, and logician, Russell was also noted for his work as a social reformer. In fact, he first became known to the general public because of his political and social work rather than his publications. When the First World War broke out, Russell publicly voiced increasingly controversial political views. He became an activist for pacifism, which resulted in his dismissal from Trinity College in 1916. Two years later, his opposition to British involvement in the war landed him in prison. Stripped of his teaching job, he began to make his living by writing and lecturing independently. In 1919, Russell visited the newly formed Soviet Union, where he met many of the famous personalities of the revolution he had initially supported. The visit soured his view of the Socialist movement in Russia, and later that year he wrote a scathing attack titled Theory and Practice of Bolshevism. In 1921, he married his second wife, Dora Black, with whom he explored his interest in education. Russell and Black opened the progressive Beacon Hill School, and Russell wrote such works as On Education (1926) and, a few years later, Education and the Social Order (1932).
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In 1931, Russell became the third Earl of Russell. Five years later, he divorced Dora Black and married his third wife, Patricia Spence. By this time, he was extremely interested in morality and had written on the subject in his controversial book Marriage and Morals (1932). He had moved to New York to teach at City College but was dismissed from the position because of his unconventional, liberal attitudes on sexuality. When Adolf Hitler came to power in Germany, Russell began to question his own dogmatic pacifism and by 1939 had rejected it in favor of a more relativist position. Believing Nazism to be an evil that needed to be stopped at all costs, he campaigned tirelessly against it throughout the Second World War. He returned to England from the United States in 1944. His teaching position at Trinity College was restored to him, and he was granted the Order of Merit by King George VI. In the period that followed, he wrote several important books, including An Enquiry into Meaning and Truth (1940), Human Knowledge: Its Scopes and Limits (1948), and his best-known work from the period, History of Western Philosophy (1945). He also continued writing controversial pieces on social, moral, and religious issues. Most of these were collected and published in 1957 as Why I Am Not a Christian. From 1949 and for the rest of his life, he was an active advocate of nuclear disarmament. In 1950, Russell won the Nobel Prize in Literature. He spent his final years in North Wales, actively writing until the end. He died on February 2, 1970.

The Problems of Philosophy, one of the most popular works in Russell's prolific collection of writings, has become core reading in philosophy. Clear and accessible, this little book is an intelligible and stimulating guide to those problems of philosophy which often mistakenly lead to its status as too lofty and abstruse for the lay mind. Focusing on problems he believes will provoke positive and constructive discussion, Russell concentrates on knowledge rather than metaphysics, steering the reader through his famous 1910 distinction between "knowledge by acquaintance and knowledge by description," and introducing important theories of Descartes, Kant, Hegel, Hume, Locke, Plato, and others to lay the foundation for philosophical inquiry by general readers and scholars alike.
With a new introduction by John Perry, this valuable work is a perfect introduction to the field and will continue to stimulate philosophical discussion as it has done for nearly forty years.
I bought this book because it was recommended for further reading in my philosophy class. I figured it was going to be a pure drag...you know, Huge words, vague sentences, so on and so on. I have to say that this book is the complete opposite. Bertrand Russell brings the topics right down to earth and explains them in a way that the average person can understand. The last chapter, "The value of Philosophy" is written with beautiful style and is an enjoyment to read. Here is a qoute from this chapter
"Philosophy, though unable to tell us with certainty what is the true answer to the doubts which it raises, is able to suggest many possiblities which enlarge our thoughts and free them from the tyranny of custom. Thus, while diminishing our feeling of certainty as to what things are, it greatly increases our knowledge as to what the may be; it removes the somewhat arrogant dogmatism of those who have never travelled into the region of liberating doubt, and it keeps alive our sense of wonder by showing familar things in an unfamilar aspect."
This book definetely has sparked in me an interest in philosophy. If you are even remotely interested in the subject, I recommend you buying it too.
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21 of 22 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars Thought-provoking..., March 14, 2001
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This review is from: The Problems of Philosophy (Paperback)
This book was my first foray into philosophy, and surprisingly, it proved to be very enjoyable. For many, just the word "philosophy" evokes images of ancient thinkers, yet not in a very appealing light: old men sitting around, absent-mindedly stroking their chins as they ponder the meaning of life.
Yet, philosophy does not deserve this reputation. It is not just some hobby for stodgy elders, or those with nothing better to do. Rather, it is quite the opposite; it is an endlessly intriguing subject, one which causes you to consider things you may have never thought of before. Survive the test, and the reaffirmation that results will be worth it.
Philosophy contains no easy answers. It poses a myriad of questions which can force one to doubt, and even reexamine, one's beliefs -- even those which previously seemed so resolute. This may at first be difficult or discombobulating, but persistance is rewarded with an even stronger foundation than before.
I will not attempt to summarize this book, as people before me have already explained it sufficiently. However, I will say that this book was a great influence, and a wonderful introduction to the world of philosophy. For such an abstruse and "deep" matter, one would think that most would be intimidated; however, Russell handles it splendidly. He writes in a lucid, unpretentious manner, and spares the reader any unnecessary confusion.
Even to this day, my friends tease me about "philosophy of a table." It is impossible for me to adequately describe this book, but let me say that it is brilliant and refreshing. For me, philosophy is not meant to give an individual a headache. It is simply for those who wish to gain a better understanding of themselves and their surroundings. And this book, exceptional in its quality, is an excellent choice to get you started on that interminable journey towards the ever so elusive Truth.
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67 of 79 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars A Major 20th Century Contribution, August 19, 2001
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This review is from: The Problems of Philosophy (Paperback)
When one considers that the great philosophers of the twentieth century stand on the shoulders of Bertrand Russell, Alfred North Whitehead, A. J. Ayer, G. E. Moore, and Ludwig Wittgenstein, one has to place Russell in the foreground as the philosophers' philosopher. He writes with clarity and lucidity. His concerns are largely logical and epistemological. And this book centers around his principal concerns.
I doubt that Russell would write this same book today, but I also doubt that he would fundamentally alter the positions he takes, if he were writing today. There is something neat, eloquent, and elegant about his epistemological premises that make this work (well beyond its 17th printing and more than eighty years old) such a venerable treasure trove. Could his positions be better articulated? Yes, but not by much. Would he delve more deeply into logic? Almost certainly. And he does, in other books written during his lifetime.
This book is really for the novice. My only complaint is that the novice will probably remain lost if his readings did not encompass more logic and criticism of rational and empirical epistemology. What makes Russell a true "modern" in contemporary philosophy is his bridge to resolving both the rationalist and empiricist schools of thought. One not knowing these dichotomies might find Russell's resolution difficult to follow. Elsewhere in the book, Russell identifies "three" rules of thought, when these rules are no longer considered all that are extent. Generally, there are seven, sometimes nine, taught in most symbolic logic courses, and this discrepancy may needlessly cause confusion. So while the book is written for the novice, it bears re-reading after covering other contemporary writers.
Russell and the others mentioned above are often associated with logical atomism, either directly or indirectly. Reading Russell or Ayer gives the student the best opportunity to do philosophy whilst learning it first hand. Both are explicit writers with Ayer perhaps having the upper hand. But, as with any philosophical school, such as logical atomism, there is always a counter reaction, and A. L. Austin's "Sense and Sensibility" is just such a reproach. Russell, like Ayer, uses the construct of "sense data" to explain the theory of knowledge; Austin and Gilbert Ryle redress both author's use of such "metaphysical" interpolations, which makes for an interesting contrast. Any reader of Russell or Ayer should counterbalance his reading with Austin's work.
"The Problems of Philosophy" is not without gaps that may leave the reader puzzled by the omissions. Perhaps they weren't as obvious when Russell wrote this book, but they are clearer now in hindsight. An egregious omission is the absence of anything to do with ethics or moral theory. Since ethics is one of the few domains particular to philosophy alone, this omission is particularly troublesome in a book of this name. If I were to title the book, it would be "The Problems of Epistemology."



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Bertrand Russell's Philosophy Problem – Appearance and Reality

Dec 6, 2010 Vaughan Jones
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Bertrand Russell noticed the flaw pertaining to the reality of matter. Now Quantum Physicists say, all matter is a holographic presentation.
Bertrand Russell claims in his writing that there is not a single part of knowledge or reality that cannot be doubted. Our aim in philosophy is to clearly answer questions, which are as yet unanswered, or not stated as truth, in a critical manner, after having taken all possible matters into account, without any ambiguity.
As he noted in his book, 'Problems in Philosophy' Chapter One, 'Appearance and Reality' (Pg.4 and 5), he uses an example of observing the objects that surround him, a table being one of them, and acknowledging that no-one else in the room would sense the table, or perceive it, exactly as he does from the angle at which he is viewing it. From this, he is reminded of one of the distinctions that causes trouble in philosophy; the distinction between appearance and reality. An artist would see it from an even different perspective to that of an ordinary person, in terms of perspective, light, shade, colouring, and so on.

The Existence of matter

Continuing in the same section of the book referred to above, Russell reminds us that using our senses to determine reality or the truth of reality, is dangerous because there is no logical reasoning attached to the decision, it would be purely sensory. Doubting the reality of the object would mean that its reality is inferred by the perceptions made from the senses of the person observing it. Thus, it is termed sense-data. Then what is the relation of the sense data to the real object; if it really does exist, that is? The object is termed the physical object. The collection of all physical objects is called matter.
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Russell introduces Bishop Berkeley as the first philosopher who claimed that there is no such thing as matter and that nothing exists independent of our observation and senses; and that the world consists of nothing but our minds and thoughts. He refuted the idea that something can exist outside of our minds, or when we are not present to perceive it. Therefore, if any object still exists beyond our sensory observation, it does so because it is in the mind of God. Other philosophers agree that nothing is real except the mind, thus, all matter exists as a result of the mind. For example Leibniz(1646-1716), who claims that what appears as matter is nothing other than a collection of more or less rudimentary minds.
Russell indicates that these philosophers, even though they refute the actual existence of matter, still in another sense admit that matter exists.
Thus, what we directly see and sense is merely appearance, which we believe to be a sign of reality. But if the reality is not what it seems, can we presume that reality actually exists.

Read on 

Plausibility of the argument

What Bertrand Russell is trying to establish in this chapter certainly carries a lot of weight and he tries hard to establish reality regarding matter and our perception of objects that we sense. As with Descartes’ belief, that a thought process of first believing that nothing is truth and then building up the facts from there onward to prove the truth of the existence of anything, is the best method.
Russell’s analysis and conclusions in his determination seem to go full circle; from wondering whether anything can truly be stated as real through proving that nothing can be regarded as real, then back to quoting other philosopher’s decisions that matter, or certain objects, exist in the mind of God, and their existence is not dependant only on our observation and our thoughts.

Conclusion

There does not seem to be any certainty about the true existence of objects, or their reality. So the thought continues; does anything actually exist?
Chapter 1, Appearance and Reality Summary and Analysis
An age-old philosophical problem is whether there is any knowledge in the world so certain that a reasonable man cannot doubt it. Philosophy must proceed critically, not dogmatically, in answering these questions. In daily life, we often assume things to be true that are really full of contradictions. When we look for certainty, therefore, we often think it is appropriate to doubt broadly, particularly our immediate experiences. For instance, considering a table, to the eye it has one appearance but physics describes its reality quite differently.
These differences may seem unimportant but they are not, for instance, they are not unimportant to the painter. The painter finds the table brown but the physicist says that there is no real color in the table, but is rather just the way.....
 Chapter 1 - Appearance and Reality
Summary
Russell begins by asking his reader to consider what knowledge exists that can be known beyond reasonable doubt. His purpose is to produce the realization that radical doubt soon brings even the most self-evident assumptions in our everyday lives under reconsideration. In this beginning chapter, Russell describes a scene: "I am now sitting in a chair, at a table of a certain shape, on which I see sheets of paper with writing or print." All of these "facts" are easily called into question. Russell engages in his discussion to find out how knowledge of such things is possible at all.
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In order to lay bare the ordinary assumptions at issue, Russell concentrates on one example, the table before him. Walking around the table, he discerns different colors from different points of view: in places seeming to reflect more light, a brighter shade of brown appears. In reality we assume that there is only one color of the table, yet the appearance of many colors contradicts our assumption. The color seems to be a relation depending on the observer, his point of view, and conditions like "the way the light falls on the table."
Since it seems clear that no two people could share one identical point of view, Russell registers a doubt as to whether one real color of the table even exists. Russell continues his investigation of color by reasoning that in ordinary language usage, when we refer to the color of an object, we actually refer to something perceived from the usual perspective of observer. However, he continues, there is no reason to assume that the usual perspective should be considered real and other perspectives, under other conditions, be considered less real. Russell does not think that the most usual brown should be considered the brown of the table, to the exclusion of other apparent browns.
As with color, the existence of just one texture of the table is ambiguous, because "to the naked eye, the table appears to be smooth and hard. Aided by microscope, the grain of the wood enlarges to appear as a mountainous range of different roughnesses and textures." Russell argues that one cannot consider one texture more real than another. The shape of the table, a rectangle, also changes immediate shape as one walks around it. Sensation of pressure depends on the force we exert on the table, as does the production of sound when we rap on the wood. Thus, the sensations of touch and sound, like sight, are not fixed by a reality; they are apparent possibilities and each depends on the conditions of observation. These observations lead to Russell's first distinction between appearance and reality, "between what things seem to be and what they are." Russell proposes that we are not struck with these discontinuities in our daily life because in practical experience, one learns "to construct the 'real' shape from the apparent shape." The real shape exists in so much as we infer it from our senses.
He writes, "the real table, if there is one, is not immediately known to us at all, but must be an inference from what is immediately known." The reality of the table, in the sense that there is a table, depends on a process of inference based on a knowable part of reality, the part Russell calls "sense-data". Sense-data are not the same as our sensations. Sense-data are "the things that are immediately known to us in sensation." Variations in our sensations indicate that sensation does not directly reveal the reality of an object like the table. Instead, it is probable that our sensations are "signs of some property which perhaps causes all the sensations." To fully grasp Russell's distinction, consider sensation as an act belonging to the realm of experience and consider the object of that direct experience to be sense-data. The object, a patch of red, produces the sensation or experience of redness. Since we have seen that certain knowledge of the table's reality is not available through the senses, Russell asks how we can know that a real table exists at all and what kind of certainty we can have. It remains clear that we do have an experience of awareness where we recognize colors and other properties as part of the table. While we may doubt the existence of a real table, it is harder to doubt our awareness of our own sensations. Therefore, we can regard our confidence in the sense-data of our everyday experiences as safe.
The next problem that arises is one of understanding how the real table, if there is one, relates to our sense-data. Russell states that it is impossible to understand, in this stage of the discussion, if or how the relation would work. The questions we must first approach are: "is there a real table at all" and "if so, what sort of object can it be?" This relation, between sense-data and the real table, is a substantial concern for Russell's enquiry. Returning to his table, he admits that when we have been saying the "real table," we have meant the "physical object." Physical objects may be understood as "matter." The questions at issue become: "is there any such thing as matter" and "if so, what is its nature?"
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Russell considers one possible answer to the first question with the thought of British philosopher Bishop Berkeley (1685–1753). Berkeley brought out the position that the immediate objects, which we call physical objects, do not exist independently of us. Rather, they depend on our minds. On his view, matter does not exist. What we call physical objects are really just ideas, mental products that we project onto the world. The existence of objects that appear to correspond to our sensations is dubious on this view. Russell's contemplation of the table shares Berkeley's spirit of enquiry insomuch as he agrees with Berkeley that "if there are any things that exist independently of us they cannot be the immediate objects of our sensations." However, Berkeley's arguments offer a more extreme philosophical view, belief in the impossibility of a reality independent of man.
At this point, Russell integrates an important distinction between meanings packed in the word "matter." A common conception of matter is something opposed to mind, something that takes up space in the physical world and is absolutely incapable of consciousness. Berkeley denies this sense of matter. He does not deny matter in the sense of things like sense-data, which signify an existence of something independent of ourselves. According to Berkeley, this independence is possible; he believes that there is something that persists when we close our eyes or walk out of a room. However, he believes that this something depends for its existence on a mind, that it may be independent but must be mental. It must not be "independent of seeing altogether, though it must be independent of our seeing." Thus, Berkeley regards the reality of the table and other such physical objects as ideas in the mind of God. Things can exist independently as long as they are not things essentially unknowable.
Berkeley's view is just one example of idealism, the view that there is "nothing acceptable as real except minds and their ideas." Argument supporting this view maintains that "whatever can be thought of is an idea in the mind of the person thinking it; therefore nothing can be thought of except ideas in minds; therefore anything else is inconceivable, and what is inconceivable cannot exist." Other philosophers held that the physical objects of the world merely depend on being observed by some entity, not necessarily God. Leibniz (1646–1716) thought that physical objects existed because they were observed by some conceptually collective mind, like the universe itself. These philosophers denied matter "as opposed to mind."
Russell also accepts the version of matter that they do not deny. By reiterating his initial question: "Is there a real table at all?" Russell points out his agreement with Berkeley and Leibniz in believing that there is a real table. However, Russell disagrees with the idealists over the question of the nature of the real table, the latter question "what sort of object can it be?" Russell continues that "almost all philosophers agree that there is a real table" and that our sense-data are signs of something that exists independent of us, something that may be said to cause the "sense-data whenever we are in a suitable relation to the real table." Before going on to an analysis of matter, Russell recognizes the positive agreement to his first question as conspicuously important and plans, in the next chapter, to investigate the reasons why anyone should believe thus. Russell concludes by reemphasizing that what we gather from our senses directly in terms of "appearance" are but signs from which we infer "reality."
Analysis
Russell's method of approaching his subject embraces the Cartesian technique of radical doubt. Rene Descartes (1596–1650) first employed it in his Meditations on First Philosophy. Upon discovering his philosophical confusion about ordinary things, Descartes decided to believe in nothing that he did not discern as clearly and distinctly true. Descartes imagined the possibility of a mischievous demon, who disordered reality in order to deceive humans; anything was possible if he could not prove that it wasn't the case. Russell acknowledges his debt to Descartes in his second chapter when he makes explicit use of Cartesian philosophy to support the idea that "subjective things are the most certain." Russell's first chapter uses radical doubt to separate reality from illusory appearance, a distinction not motivated by a demon, but by the suggestion that reality is simply ordered in a way that is not immediately present to our senses.
Russell takes issue with the authority of common sense by showing that the appearances of the table are numerous and contradictory and cannot be said to suffice as a description of one reality. Confusion about the table's color, texture, and shape, are sufficient to prompt doubt as to whether or not the table exists at all. Belief in the table remains dubious until Russell creates a distinction between the table and sense-data representing the table. Engaging Russell's language allows us to separate our experience of the table, which becomes confusing, from an idea of a real table removed from our perception.
At the end of chapter 1, Russell writes, "Philosophy, if it cannot answer so many questions as we could wish, has at least the power of asking questions which increase the interest of the world, and show the strangeness and wonder lying just below the surface even in the commonest things of daily life." This philosophic capacity to ask questions finds thematic expression throughout the work. Here, the sudden way that reflective questioning can contradict our ordinary view of the world makes clear the necessity of Russell's project. He identifies a need for a theory of knowledge that will reconcile what appears to be from what really is. Russell also appeals to an urge to practice knowledge responsibly, that in order to make statements or hold beliefs about knowledge, we must be able to substantiate that our knowledge is faithful to reality.
Russell's sense-data terminology endures as a helpful reference throughout the work and also as a touchstone of modern philosophy. His table is the illustrative case of sense-data, famous from this popular work, and used as a staple of contemporary philosophical discussion. Among the philosophers who have responded to it in their own works, Hilary Putnam notably identifies Russell's table in his most recent work The Threefold Cord. Putnam discusses the notion of sense-data as a mistaken conceptualization of reality, which Russell developed as a result of the limitations of his scientific age. The mistake does not necessarily rest on an issue of perspective, because the table still might be one color, just affected by a force of nature not identified, not taken into account; if it were, then the table's color would be constant, and still independent of the observer

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