In Defense of the Layperson

My latest book was published on July 1. Its title is Epistemological Foundations of the Free Society: Ayn Rand’s Theory of Universals Applied to Science, Sigmund Freud’s Psychology, and Ludwig von Mises’s Economics.
 
As the title suggests, the book applies Ayn Rand’s theory of concepts to the correct understanding of science and illustrates the theory with the scientific work of Freud and Mises, concluding that, contrary to their critics, both are true scientists.
 
Out of curiosity, I recently searched my book for the word “layperson” and found that I used it twenty times! Hence, the title of this post.
 
Or, in other words, as I might also put it: I was an academic for thirty-six years, but please don’t accuse me of that! Or, again, figuratively speaking, I am a truck driver at heart (though I never drove trucks for any of my many part-time and summer jobs.)
 
The layperson—and I am including both skilled and unskilled workers, as well as anyone else working in a non-academic field—is usually a common sensical, practical, down-to-earth person trying to live life as best as he or she can.
 
The layperson in particular does not take seriously the minutia that many academics spend their time on and they certainly dismiss out of hand the philosopher’s claims, due especially to Immanuel Kant, that true reality can never be known.
 
What I emphasize in my book is that academics or scientists perform the same cognitive processes as any layperson, namely conceptualization, the formation of new concepts and application of known ones to identify concrete instances of those previously formed concepts, which in turn are used to guide our choices and actions.
 
Concepts are the ideas or abstractions that stand behind words. For example, the words kitty, minou, Kätzchen, gattino all symbolize the same abstraction. Concepts are mental units—“file folders,” as Ayn Rand calls them metaphorically—that children learn initially from their parents, later from teachers in school and reading. A concept once learned is then applied when we come upon new instances or concretes that constitute the content of the concept’s file folder.
 
Mental and physical skill, whether driving a truck, teaching or raising children, wiring a house or commercial building, or conducting a scientific experiment, requires, first, the accumulation of knowledge—concepts—relevant to the nature of the skill and its performance, then practice in applying that knowledge to accomplish the defined goal.
 
Kitty, ball, chair, table, and bed are concepts that we learn early in our lives and then apply them when we see a new furry thing that goes “meow,” or a flat thing that holds other objects. At first, we may confuse kitty with those other furry things that go “woof, woof,” but eventually we learn to differentiate the two as distinctly different animals.
 
After we have observed enough cats and dogs, or chairs, tables, and beds, we learn that these concepts, when put into a new file folder, can be called, respectively, animals and furniture, which often are our first abstractions from abstractions. Learning, subsequently, becomes a series of identifications—concept formations—of concrete objects and abstractions from abstractions.
 
Conceptualization is the process of generalization to form concepts and application of our formed concepts to recognize or identify the specifics of our daily lives and to guide our behavior.* Application is what most of us do, including scientists in their laboratories, most of the time in our lives.
 
The formation of concepts is an inductive process, application is deductive. Ayn Rand’s theory of concepts can readily be understood by the layperson, though it may take slow, concentrated reading and rereading.
 
Skilled and unskilled laborers, to bring back my laypersons, learn more concepts of concrete objects than college professors do, who work with broad abstractions, but laborers, too, learn broader and broader abstractions related to their professions.
 
Scientists, as I discuss in my book (and as identified by Francis Bacon, following Aristotle) focus on forming correct concepts that are universal, by defining their essential distinguishing characteristics. Citing an example I have used before, from science historian John McCaskey, Robert Koch identified the comma bacillus as the essence and cause of cholera, dispensing with the competing but correlational hypotheses of foul water or season of year.
 
The mental processes of generalization and application used by both scientists and truck drivers are the same.
 
For example, a plumber reportedly said to a professor, “You pay me for what I know, not what I do,” meaning the plumber and the professor were fellow professionals. “Like hell we are,” was the professorial response, which included a big laugh when I heard the story. But we do pay plumbers both for what they know, as well as what they do, just as we also pay professors for what they know and what they do in the classroom.
 
Mental and physical skill that is performed well, and that we pay for, can indeed be called professional, whether applied to a plumber or college professor. Unfortunately, there is no shortage of condescension toward laypersons among intellectual elites.
 
Conceptualization—valid concepts—is what keeps us in contact with “true” reality. After all, we live and act in true reality, and this reality includes our means of awareness, our consciousness. There is nothing “phenomenal” or “just appearance” about what we perceive.
 
This, of course, does not mean that we never make mistakes or cannot be deluded about reality. Aristotle’s law of non-contradiction is our guide to ensure that the in-here, the content of our consciousness, our concepts, correctly matches, corresponds to, or identifies the out-there, the world external to our minds. If not correct, we have a contradiction between the in-here and out-there.
 
Aristotle’s law also applies, in a more challenging manner, when we introspect to identify the contents and processes of consciousness, because we are using our mental processes to identify mental contents and processes.
 
Conceptualization, especially of broad abstractions, does take mental effort.
 
Perception gives us the data—entities and their attributes and motions. Concepts give us the cognitive expression (language broadly construed) of what we observe to give us bodies of knowledge and to guide us in the improvement of our lives.
 
Truck drivers, and laypersons in general, as well as scientists, perform the same mental processes. And I would add that I have met many a layperson who performs these processes better than some (many?) academics.
 
 
* Ayn Rand calls this process “conceptual identification” and does not include it in the concept of conceptualization. I believe application belongs in that “file folder.”

 

Preface to Epistemological Foundations of the Free Society: Ayn Rand's Theory of Universals Applied to Science, Sigmund Freud's Psychology, and Ludwig von Mises's Economics (available July 1 in print and ebook forms at Amazon.com and others)

A sound theory of universals is fundamental to the defense of a free society.

 

    Plato said that universals, which he called forms, are located in another dimension of reality and only certain people can know them. Hence, his advocacy of a near-communistic society of philosopher-kings who would rule. Thomas Hobbes advocated a theory called nominalism, which says universals are conventional, arbitrary names, not sound or objective concepts that are true. This made him a relativist in ethics and advocate of a strong “public sword,” or monarchy, to keep the peace in society.

 

   Karl Marx did not have a theory of universals, though we might say it was implied in what Ludwig von Mises calls Marx’s polylogism, a theory of many logics that rejects the notion of only one fundamental logic based on Aristotle’s three laws. Thus, Marx claimed that the bourgeoisie have their logic, while the proletariat have theirs, which means the two classes cannot talk to or understand each other. Hence, his advocacy of the  dictatorship of the proletariat to establish that Garden of Eden called communism—or socialism—he considered both terms synonymous. Today’s postmodern Marxists say something similar: “You have your truth; I have my truth.” As consequence, what they advocate in political philosophy is a repressive society, with the so-called victim classes taking the place of the proletariat.

 

   Underlying any theory of political philosophy is a theory of human nature, also called philosophical psychology. A sound theory of universals is required to form and define the concepts that identify and define the essentials of human nature. Do human beings possess the capacity to reason, the word “capacity” meaning we do not reason automatically but must choose to exercise that capacity, which means we have an active consciousness with which we control our lives? Or are we determined by genes and environment with illusions of consciousness and free will? The illusion of consciousness is called materialism and the illusion of free will is called determinism. Both are advocated by Hobbes and Marx. If we do possess a volitional consciousness, however, the idea of a free society—capitalism—follows from basic concepts of rights, freedom, the moral validity of the pursuit of self-interest, and, in particular, a sound theory of universals that explains how objectivity and truth are possible.

    The significance of a correct theory of universals is that our knowledge, with the exception of proper names, is entirely in the form of universal concepts. If those concepts are not valid, they mean nothing when we move from epistemology to ethics and politics, and to all the special sciences, including psychology and economics. That is, we must be able to use and apply the theory of universals to validate science, especially our concept of human nature—to establish the foundations of psychology, to validate the concept of value to establish a theory of ethics, and to validate many other concepts to define the proper function of government. This last includes rights and freedom, along with such additional concepts as the nature and meaning of healthy and unhealthy motivation and behavior and the production of wealth in a social setting.

    A correct theory of universals means our minds are competent to know reality and thus can guide us in our choices and actions to grow, thrive, and prosper.

    Ayn Rand’s theory of concepts, which I will argue is a sound theory of universals, is her most important and significant contribution to philosophy, especially to epistemology. Only by making the theory widely known and understood can the free society be properly defended.

    The present work is not a defense of capitalism per se. Ayn Rand and Ludwig von Mises provide unanswerable moral and economic justifications.[1] The subject of this book is epistemology and its importance in identifying the nature of science, basic and applied, with emphasis on the human sciences of psychology and economics. Its theme is that the essence of science is observation, not exact measurement, and that science employs as its primary and fundamental method the mental process of conceptualization: generalization from observation of particulars to identify universals, then application of previously formed universals to understand new particular cases. The issue of universals, based on Ayn Rand’s theory of concepts, runs throughout, providing the fundamental epistemological foundation for proper defenses of reason in philosophy, individualism in psychology, and capitalism in economics.

    My audience, as a result, is laypersons and academics interested in the underlying epistemology of science, especially the human sciences that, when integrated with psychology and economics, provide the ultimate vindication of a free society and answer to such ill-founded theories as those of Plato, Hobbes, and Marx.

    In chapter 1, using Rand’s theory of universals, or concepts as she calls them, I introduce her notion of measurement omission as the essence of abstraction to address the proper meanings of, and distinctions between, basic and applied science, theory and history, and the cognitive processes of generalization and application. Positivism—logical positivism or logical empiricism, as it is also labeled—and experimentation are discussed, followed by a presentation of what is called the problem of universals.

    In chapter 2, I elaborate Rand’s theory of concepts as an improvement on Aristotle’s theory of form and matter by identifying concepts and essences as neither intrinsic, in the thing, as Aristotle taught, nor subjective as the nominalists assert. Rather, concepts and essences are epistemological, in our minds, created by us and are valid and epistemologically objective if they correctly identify the metaphysical referents on which they are based. I further discuss Rand’s important explanations of abstraction from abstractions and concepts of consciousness. In concluding the chapter, I elaborate Rand’s usage of the terms “metaphysical” and “epistemological,” ending with a presentation of what I consider her radical theory of logic as non-contradictory identification.

    In chapter 3, I discuss several related philosophical issues using Rand’s theory to refute the bane of science, positivism, and to provide valid empirically-based explanations of Immanuel Kant’s allegedly innate “a priori” concepts—space, time, and causality—as well as a non-religious, non-Kantian empirical defense of free will. I continue with a discussion of the distinction between general knowledge, which we all possess to some degree and with some accuracy, and personal knowledge, which is unique to our own experiences. Finally, I conclude with a brief discussion of the role and importance of emotion in both science and our personal lives.

    In chapters 4 and 5, respectively, I apply Rand’s theory to my understanding of psychology and economics as human sciences, with emphasis on the work of Sigmund Freud and Ludwig von Mises. Both Freud and Mises have been criticized as pseudo- or non-scientific for using “literary” (Freud) or “non-quantitative” (Mises) methods to establish their theories. To the contrary, I argue that the methods of both are models of conceptualization, which I contend is the fundamental method of science.

    I became aware of the importance of conceptualization in science when I reread Edith Packer’s Lectures on Psychology after they had been made available as a Kindle book, in 2013, by her husband George Reisman. I realized after reading the book that conceptualization was what Dr. Packer was doing as a psychotherapist, and then realized that Mises, Dr. Reisman, Aristotle, and, when reading him later, Freud, were doing the same thing in their work. Masses of quantitative data and laboratory experiments, I realized, were not the essence of science.

    In chapter 6, I conclude the work with a summary of its thesis, elaborating on what I call thinking in definitions and clarifying the meanings of scientific law and principle. Finally, statements about Kant’s legacy and, subsequently, Ayn Rand’s complete the book.

    The significance of focusing on Freud and Mises is that they both provide fundamental concepts and principles for the foundation of a free society, Freud for the individual to pursue a healthy, happy, and psychologically independent life and Mises for individuals to cooperate with each other to achieve peace and prosperity. Both are experts on human nature, explicitly so for Freud, implicitly for Mises, and both, despite the comments of their critics, consider themselves to be scientists. This work aims to provide Freud and Mises a needed epistemological foundation.

    The meaning of free society that I am using is Ayn Rand’s concept of laissez-faire capitalism as a social system, presupposing an ethics of rational self-interest. That is, capitalism is not just the private ownership of the means of production, as economists, Mises in particular, define it, but a system based on the primacy of individual rights, especially property rights, with all property privately owned, allowing social cooperation to be achieved by voluntarily trading value for value. Rights are freedoms of action—deriving from human nature as a rational being—to speak and write openly and to work with others to pursue property, careers, relationships, hobbies, education, and happiness without the interference of initiated physical coercion, that is, physical force, by the government or criminals. Self-defensive coercion is delegated to the government unless involved in an emergency situation.

    The importance of defining capitalism as a social system is that it broadens the concept beyond economics alone. This is significant because totalitarian states are called such because they seek to and often do—in the name of an ethics of self-sacrifice—control every aspect of the individuals’ lives, not just their economic lives.[2] Totalitarianism means total control. Capitalism means total freedom—from direct or indirect initiated physical force of any type, economic or political.

    A further point about the meaning of Rand’s concept of capitalism. It is not what we have today or had in the late nineteenth century, though Rand acknowledges the United States came close in those earlier years. Her concept is a goal, a moral and political ideal, to work toward to achieve at some point in the future. It is not Marx’s utopia or creation of a “new man,” as Marx said communism would give us. Capitalism requires hard work and self-responsibility with no one expected to provide handouts. The problems with the apparent capitalism that we had in earlier days, and have today, is that many big businesses and governments have colluded with each other to gain favors and wealth for themselves, ignoring everyone else. This is not capitalism, but corporatism or, more precisely, fascism.

    For this reason, one of the best ways to describe capitalism is that it is a system in which business and state are completely separated in the same way and for the same reasons as we now have the (nearly) complete separation of church and state. And by “business,” I mean any organization that operates to earn a profit by offering value to paying customers. I include schools, roads, and utilities, today’s publicly owned and mixed institutions. I also believe that there should be no so-called nonprofit organizations. All societal institutions, business, church, or otherwise, should be privately owned and operated and expected to earn an excess of revenues or donations over expenses. If there is to be taxation to support the considerably limited government, it should be a flat tax applied to everyone, including to those so-called nonprofits. As Ayn Rand indicates, there are other options in financing government in a free society, but the issue is far removed from today’s problems. For the most part, it should be postponed for debate until we come closer to a truly free society.

    I did not come up with the theme of this book until recently, but the idea behind it was implanted in me during the spring quarter of my freshman year, 1966, at the University of Denver. I took the course “Modern Philosophy,” taught by Leonard Peikoff. The course covered Thomas Hobbes, the Continental rationalists (Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz), the British empiricists (Locke, Berkeley, Hume), and Immanuel Kant—in ten weeks.[3] The issue of universals and political philosophy arose immediately because Dr. Peikoff’s lectures began with Hobbes and the consequences of Hobbes’s nominalism. The issue continued throughout the course, at least indirectly, when we came to John Locke’s inability to find a “something I know not what,” Hume’s failure to find a necessary connection between cause and effect, and, of course, Kant’s failure to find reality.

    An important note here is that Ayn Rand’s theory of concepts did not begin to be published until July of that year, and Dr. Peikoff’s teaching style was to present the best case he could for a viewpoint he did not accept, even bending over backwards to make it sound like he supported it. He knew Ayn Rand’s theory at this time but did not present it in the course.[4] Lively Q&A’s went on throughout the term, but no solution to the problem of universals was found. I concluded, reluctantly, that those of us most interested in the topic were left on the floor, desperately trying to find Aristotle’s intrinsic essences. After that quarter, Dr. Peikoff returned to New York City where he had lived for many years.

    When Ayn Rand’s theory was published, I memorized key definitions to think about them, for example, when waiting for my next class.[5] In the ensuing years, my interest in epistemology and the problem of universals never waned. It was a treat to read the discussions of epistemology by Ludwig von Mises and, though not exactly a treat, my knowledge of epistemology helped me in graduate school to fend off the assaults of that god called positivism.

 

     My relationship to Ayn Rand’s philosophy, which she named Objectivism, is that I am a follower of her philosophy, but do not describe myself as an Objectivist. I call myself a student of Ayn Rand, in the same way I call myself a student of Sigmund Freud and Ludwig von Mises. In 1968, in the aftermath of Rand’s break with Nathaniel Branden, she emphasized that Objectivism was her philosophy and that followers should take care not to speak for her, but to continue working as independent intellectuals in their own fields applying her ideas as relevant.[6] This is how I have viewed my scholarly work for many decades. In the present book, I emphasize that I am presenting and applying her ideas as I understand them. Elaborations and applications are mine.[7]

    My thirty-six-year academic career was spent in the applied science of business marketing, teaching and writing about fundamental ideas—Ayn Rand’s, as well as those of psychologists and economists—applying them to the business disciplines and education.

     The many references used in this book indicate a wide variety of influences on my thinking and writing. I endorse some, reject others or attempt to refute them, and some are neutral, providing important information as background and history. Aside from Ayn Rand, Freud, and Mises, my most significant influences are psychologist Edith Packer and economist George Reisman. My primary and permanent influence is my wife, soulmate, and editor, philosopher Linda Reardan. Her conceptions both of post-Kantian, modern Aristotelianism and of emotions as data for reasoning have influenced this book. Our daughter, a mechanical engineer, has also been helpful when challenging me to explain to her, in simple terms, the thesis of the work.

     The formatting, as with all my books, follows The Chicago Manual of Style, though not completely. I still prefer superscript numbers in the footnote reference, for example, as opposed to Chicago’s recommendation to use full-sized numbers followed by a period. Clarity and consistency are the criteria of formatting, which I learned from Carol Fisher Saller, The Subversive Copy Editor.

 

     For references to the internet, I have shortened most of the uniform resource locators (URLs) to their domain names. When searching for my reference, I recommend using what is called the “site operator,” for example, site:freud.org.uk private meaning or site:mises.org economic calculation. This will almost always, at the top of the search, return the words that follow the domain name. Digital object identifiers (DOIs), unique locators usually of academic journal articles, have not been shortened. Citations to print publications have been shortened after the initial reference. All sources are listed in the bibliography in full, including uniform resource locators.

 

   A final note on “self-plagiarism,” a term I believe to be a ludicrous contradiction in terms that has gained some notoriety in the academic world. I emphatically do not endorse the notion that a writer can plagiarize him- or herself, especially when acknowledgment is made about the so-called recycling of one’s own work. For the record, I have been writing and posting monthly blogs for nineteen years and more than twenty of the posts, since 2021, were written as drafts for eventual use, after editing, in the present work. A few excerpts from the draft of this work have also been posted as blogs.[8]

   Notes    

 

   [1] I must add George Reisman and his magnum opus Capitalism: A Treatise on Economics. Reisman is a follower of Ayn Rand’s philosophy and former student of Mises.

 

    [2] The ethics, especially today, is usually a variant of Kant’s duty-over-inclination maxim, imposed at the point of a government gun (or Hobbes’s public sword). The individual’s life belongs to the state and must be sacrificed to it when and as requested. 

 

    [3] The quarter system at the time was ten weeks plus a week of finals, and classes were five days a week, fifty minutes each. I took Professor Peikoff’s introductory philosophy course during the previous winter quarter, along with 160 of my closest classmates. The modern philosophy class consisted of about thirty-five students.

 

    [4]    In the introduction to philosophy course, Dr. Peikoff had nearly everyone convinced he was a determinist. In the modern philosophy course, I knew that he knew Ayn Rand’s theory because he taught it in a graduate seminar during the fall quarter of 1965. I even had the audacity to walk into his office, before attending a single college class, to ask him if I could audit his graduate seminar. He said “no,” because it would not be fair to others. He did, however, give me the telephone number of the local representative of the Nathaniel Branden Institute that presented lecture courses on tape of Ayn Rand’s philosophy.

 

    [5]    Rand’s theory of concepts was initially published in eight monthly installments in The Objectivist magazine from July 1966 to February 1967. One of the (non-epistemological) definitions I memorized was her notion of capitalism as a social system. When I mentioned it to a classmate, the classmate was surprised, and I was surprised that he was surprised—because I had assumed that Rand’s definition was self-evident and that everyone must have known it! 

 

    [6] Ayn Rand, “A Statement of Policy,” The Objectivist 7, no. 6 (June 1968): 7–9. 

 

    [7]    In the present work, I have concentrated on avoiding any tinges of moralism, a trait that unfortunately is sometimes present in Rand’s writing and in the demeanor of some of her followers. See my discussion of the anti-conceptual mentality in Jerry Kirkpatrick, Independent Judgment and Introspection: Fundamental Requirements of the Free Society (Kirkpatrick Books, 2019), 108–110, and below, chap. 3, the section titled “Defensive Habits and Free Will,” pp. 67–69.

 

    [8] See jerrykirkpatrick.blogspot.com for the blogs. I have always considered my blog posts to be drafts of whatever I might later publish. See Richard Posner, The Little Book of Plagiarism (Pantheon, 2007), for his discussion of the legal and moral issues involved in plagiarism and “self-plagiarism.” The term “self-plagiarism” likely applies more correctly to students who turn in the same paper for two different classes. 

Positivism

The philosophy of positivism—also called logical positivism and logical empiricism—has for decades been the bane of science, especially the human sciences.
 
The concept “positivism” that I am using is broader than the logical positivism of the Vienna Circle in the1920s–1930s, which attempted, but failed, to find Immanuel Kant’s noumenal world through symbolic logic applied to sense data. Positivism (495–98), as it is still used today and derives from the work of August Comte, means the use of the so-called scientific methods of physics and chemistry to attempt to discover laws of human behavior and events.
 
All science, that is to say, must be quantitative, and if it is not quantitative, it is not science. The post-Kantian premises of positivists, in their attempt to defend science, are the following: the entire branch of philosophy called metaphysics is meaningless—that is, the concept cannot be “empirically verified”—and universals, facts, values, and, especially, truth are similarly unknowable and therefore meaningless. Awareness of reality is restricted to directly perceived concretes. At best, say the positivists, we can try to come up with “successive approximations” of statistical probabilities, but we will never reach “absolute” certainty or “eternal” truth, and, of course, all science must be “value-free.”
 
Thus, an endless parade of statistical studies to incrementally—and slowly—pretend to develop science, never achieving the status of universality because universals, well, as stated above, are metaphysically meaningless. This method, or epistemology, is gospel in the so-called social sciences today, which I prefer to call human sciences, the sciences of homo sapiens that emphasize and study the animal that possesses a volitional consciousness. The human sciences, in other words, study human nature as the being who exercises, or does not exercise, the capacity to reason.
 
The two fundamental special sciences of human nature are psychology and economics, that is, respectively, the science of the motivation and behavior of individual human beings, healthy or unhealthy, and the science of cooperating individuals in a social setting the aim of which is to generate and produce peace and prosperity.
 
Austrian economists do not agree with the positivist mantra, preferring the method of logical reasoning, the process of identifying correct concepts and integrating them into principles, then integrating principles into theories—leaving Newtonian-type algebraic equations to the physicists and chemists. Sigmund Freud essentially did the same thing in the development of psychoanalysis.
 
Austrian economist F. A. Hayek in his 1974 Nobel laureate address did not use the word “positivism,” but did say that scientism and the scientistic attitude of insisting on using the methods of physical science in the social sciences “quite arbitrarily limits the facts which are to be admitted as possible causes of the events which occur in the real world.” Scientism is a close synonym of positivism and is defined by Hayek as a pretense of knowledge.
 
Positivism over the years has been criticized, notably for its contradiction that metaphysics is meaningless—because that statement itself is a metaphysical assertion.
 
What positivism in particular lacks, among its many other faults, is a sound theory of universals and theory of abstraction from abstractions, which I have written about in previous posts (1, 2, 3).
 
According to Ayn Rand, universal concepts are formed by omitting the measurable differences of the concept’s referents—length, width, and height, for example, of several perceived, concrete objects we come to identify and label as “tables.” After identifying other similar but, in some respects, different perceived concretes—such as chairs and beds—we omit the measurements of size and focus on, but also omit, the different purposes of tables, chairs, and beds, retaining their use in a human household to form the concept “furniture,” which is an abstraction from abstractions.
 
When we move to broad abstractions in psychology and economics, such as depression and the business cycle, we require focused attention on the chain of abstractions from perceived concrete to broad abstraction—and back to the perceptual level. This mental effort—and it is mental effort—is precisely what is lacking in positivism because, as they say, the abstractions are “analytic,” arbitrary constructs, subjectively defined. Only “synthetic” perceived concretes can be true or false.
 
The mental effort in forming and correcting our abstractions from abstractions is precisely what led Ayn Rand (67–68) to say, rather pointedly:
 
Like a spoiled, disillusioned child, who had expected predigested capsules of automatic knowledge, a logical positivist stamps his foot at reality and cries that context, integration, mental effort and first-hand inquiry are too much to expect of him, that he rejects so demanding a method of cognition, and that he will manufacture his own “constructs” from now on.
 
Karl Popper (chap. 1) denied that he was a positivist though his premises are positivistic. He attempted to defend science by proposing the still widely accepted criterion of “falsifiability,” that is, the notion that a concept is valid only if it can be falsified.
 
Meaning precisely what? In the human sciences, the answer to this question is that concepts, or rather “constructs,” must be “operationalized” in order to test them using the experimental-statistical methods of the physical sciences. If that cannot be done, the concept cannot be falsified.
 
Operationalization means to make measurable. What is the measuring instrument to be used in the human sciences, where volition is the fundamental premise? Well, first of all, volition is not relevant because it cannot be “falsified” and, besides, real science does not acknowledge such “pseudoscience,” which, as Popper might say, is akin to astrology.
 
Therefore, following the Popperian method, such constructs as “attitude” from psychology and “utility” from economics must be measured by administering a “paper and pencil” instrument called a questionnaire to a sample of five hundred or more people. The collected data is then analyzed, perhaps using sophisticated multivariate statistics. Probability estimates and confidence intervals are calculated. Universals are never discussed or considered relevant or possible.
 
If a concept cannot be measured using this method, it cannot be falsified. It is therefore meaningless and invalid.
 
Popper states that science begins with highly informed guesses” (conjectures) and then attempts to falsify or refute them (chap. 3; my italics). Similarly, economist Milton Friedman (14) says that economic research, in the positivist-Popper tradition, begins with “wildly inaccurate” assumptions that we test and attempt to “empirically verify,” or rather “falsify.”*
 
The problem here is that the terms “guess” and “hypothesis” do not have the same referents. A hypothesis begins with significant evidence about what we are studying, but not enough to draw a definite conclusion. A guess has little or no evidence.
 
 “Empirical verifiability” of the positivists and Popper’s alternative of “falsification” are not essentially different. They both constrict science—all science, not just the human sciences—to perceived concretes and the experimental-positivistic-behavioristic methodology, essentially dismissing broad abstractions and logical reasoning.**
 
As Rand’s theory indicates, the essence of science is measurement omission, not measurement, and the proper method of doing science is conceptualization. The criterion of what is true or false, that is, the correct identification of reality, is Aristotle’s law of non-contradiction. Whatever violates the law in the name of science should be called pseudoscience.
 
Which seems to be an appropriate descriptive of positivism.
 
 
* Friedman, “The Methodology of Positive Economics.” Friedman, however, apparently regretted writing this essay.
 
** The experimental-positivistic-behavioristic terminology is psychologist Abraham Maslow’s disapproving description of positivist epistemology (xlvi).

The Meaning of Logic

Aristotelian logic has been variously defined as the science and art of correct reasoning, of making correct inferences, or of correct thinking.
 
Ayn Rand makes the concept “correct” precise and fundamental by defining logic as “the art of non-contradictory identification” (p. 36). By “art” she means practice, or the practical application of concepts and principles to achieve a specific goal. Logic is therefore what she calls a concept of method, similar to such applied sciences as engineering and medicine, and even to the branches of philosophy, ethics and epistemology. All are concepts of method or, as one might say, “how-to” disciplines.
 
The goal of logic is to achieve true knowledge of reality, “true” being technically redundant, though we do sometimes talk about false or mistaken knowledge. The essential means of achieving knowledge is the correct—i.e., non-contradictory—formation and application of concepts, ensuring that the “in here” contents of our consciousness correctly recognizes what is “out there” in reality.*
 
For example, if I look to the side of my computer and identify the object sitting there as a little bearded man making shoes, when in fact the object is my glass of water, I have incorrectly identified reality. That is, the “in here” content of my consciousness that says there is a leprechaun on my desk has contradicted the “out there” facts. I have violated Aristotle’s law of non-contradiction and am holding a delusion of reality in my mind. Reality says glass of water; my mind says leprechaun.
 
Ayn Rand’s formulation of logic, I submit, focusing on the “in here” in relation to the “out there,” radically challenges the tradition of logic textbooks that have concentrated, in some cases exclusively, on the syllogism and deductive reasoning.
 
Over the centuries this tradition has given us both Scholastic and modern rationalism that is obsessed with deductive reasoning disconnected from the facts—such as endless debates about angels on the head of a pin, naked monads, or brains in a vat. The rules and validity of syllogism, a great discovery of Aristotle’s, are valuable to know in the construction of valid and true knowledge. And this includes discussions of contradictions in terms and argument consistency.
 
Rationalism, however, is a narrow focus on deductive reasoning at the expense of reality. This includes the unreality of economic theory that says capitalism must fit the mathematical formulas of “pure and perfect competition.” And the faux intellectual’s mistake that claims criminals by definition cannot be intelligent because they are irrational.
 
Rationalism can be described as a linguistic game of pushing words around. Proper syllogistic thinking and rationalism have certain similarities, namely relating one or more concepts to another, but a correct syllogism, in one of its forms, relates the subject of a conclusion to the predicate of what is called the major premise: all dogs have four legs, Fido is a dog, therefore Fido has four legs.
 
The textbooks spend huge amounts of time on these syllogistic forms, with mnemonic names like “Barbara” and “Celarent” and their propositions as “contraries,” “contradictories,” “subalterns,” etc., that only Medieval Scholastics would remember and use. All the layperson has to do is look at dogs, cats, and Fido to recognize that dogs are not cats, and Fido has four legs.
 
Rationalism, further, is not the deductive process of application that we all use every day, the deduction that identifies “a this as an instance of a that,” that is, the use of our previously formed (and correct) universal concepts to recognize the specific, concrete object that we eat breakfast on is a table. Rand calls this process “conceptual identification.” I call it application, of universals to concretes, and I include both application and the process of concept formation, of coming up with new universal concepts, under the general term of conceptualization.**
 
Excessive attention, however, in logic textbooks to an invalid syllogism that says all dogs and cats have four legs and therefore are the same, ignores or downplays a better, more sharpened focus on concept formation and application. Looking directly at reality means attending to the referents of each concept to identify the respective essential distinguishing characteristics of, say, dogs and cats as opposed to human beings.***
 
In the formation of concepts, to identify means to subsume or classify similar existents distinguished from a broader category of other existents into a concept, further identified by a word.
 
In the application of concepts, to identify means to subsume or classify one concrete existent as a member of an already known and held-in-mind concept.
 
Ayn Rand’s definition of logic makes the “how to” discipline of logic fundamentally connected to reality by emphasizing the distinction between consciousness and existence. Rationalism never gets out of consciousness.
 
In addition to the rationalism of the textbooks, I also question the excessive use by logicians of the word “proposition,” because I think it feeds into their rationalistic thinking. Aristotle’s word in the Greek is protasis and is usually translated as proposition, though the Liddell and Scott Greek-English Lexicon adds that the word especially means a premise in a syllogism. Today’s usage makes it a true or false statement.
 
My complaint is not that traditional logic texts are not worth reading—I have read three—I think the excessive use of proposition overlooks the significance of universals, especially thinking in universal principles, and their non-contradictory identification of the facts as Ayn Rand essentializes logic. The proposition and sentence “water with no impurities at sea level boils at 212º Fahrenheit” is not just a proposition or statement; it is a universal principle, with the word “universal” being redundant. (The texts I have read were written by H. W. B Joseph, 1916; Lionel Ruby, 1960; and David Kelley, 1988. They are less rationalistic than the typical logic text.)
 
Hence, my often-made assertion that theoretical knowledge—science—consists mainly of concepts and principles, not concepts and propositions. Yes, all sciences use many concepts that are universal and, at the same time, make many statements that are not universal, but it is the universal principles that give science its power. The science of history is the only exception in that its goal is to discover and report concrete facts of a life or event.
 
The rules of formal logic, in effect, are the grammar and syntax of deductive reasoning, and non-contradictory identification applies, but inductive reasoning requires getting oneself out of discussions of language to look directly at reality.
 
Ayn Rand in her discussion of abstraction from abstractions emphasizes the importance of tracing the links from broad abstractions to their roots in perceived concretes, in external reality. In an earlier post, I demonstrated this with three of Kant’s allegedly “a priori” concepts, namely space, time, and causality, that he said were innate and disconnected from perceptual reality. We perceive the meaning of space, for example, I wrote, by observing “a room that has no furniture, an available parking location, and the spot on my desk where my water glass was.” These three perceived concretes are the referents of the concept “space.”
 
This activity and, preferably, habit of retracing the links from broad abstraction to perceptual referent is not just what we might call an updated Aristotelian empiricism that says, “open your eyes and look at the world, then introspect to identify how you arrived at the concepts you have in your mind.” It is a means of maintaining a non-contradictory mental organization that requires and allows a sharp focus on the facts of reality.
 
A final note on definitions and thinking in definitions, which unfortunately is the rationalist’s favorite vehicle of argumentation, often by making grossly unrealistic assumptions, such as, “Let’s assume dogs can fly and see where that takes us.” Well-constructed definitions summarize and condense the content of our concepts and keep our knowledge connected both to reality and to the rest of the knowledge we already have. If “by definition” we mean arbitrary, disconnected floating abstractions and flimsily constructed tautologies, knowledge can be anything we want it to be, which is where we are today as consequence of Kant’s philosophy and his positivist followers.
 
 
* Of course, we, and our consciousness, are also a part of reality, which adds complications to the issue. See my discussion of Ayn Rand’s distinction between the metaphysical and epistemological as applied to consciousness.
 
** Rand does not seem to include application or conceptual identification under the term conceptualization. On her use of induction and deduction as the processes, respectively, of forming and applying concepts, see the last two paragraphs of chapter 3 in the Objectivist Epistemology. On her mentions of conceptual identification, see the third paragraph from the end of chapter 3 and page 50 in chapter 5.
 
*** This excessive, rationalistic attention of traditional logic, and the absurd, brain-twisting p’s and q’s of what is called symbolic “logic”—scare quotes intended—is what has given rise to critical thinking courses in today’s philosophy departments. Critical thinking as a concept is the attempt to bring reality and practicality back into logic, though the word “logic” is seldom used in those classes.

Space, Time, and Causality

Ayn Rand’s theory of concepts answers many so-called problems in philosophy. One of these is Kant’s claim that such concepts as space, time, and causality are innate (“a priori”), independent of sense perception and therefore of reality. Whatever we are aware of are phenomena, appearances in our minds, not the noumena of true reality. The positivists took this a step further and declared all abstractions from abstractions “arbitrary constructs.” Let us see what Rand’s theory can say about these broad concepts.
 
An abstraction from abstractions, according to Rand (chap. 3), begins with perceived concretes, such as chairs, tables, and beds. A first-level abstraction from abstractions might be furniture, by identifying the similar characteristics that the three concretes share, namely large objects designed to support the human body and smaller objects. A further abstraction might be household goods when we integrate furniture with furnaces, air conditioners, and kitchen appliances, and, further, the broad abstraction of human-made objects by integrating household goods with bridges, automobiles, and skyscrapers.
 
To keep our knowledge in good order, says Rand, we must be able to trace the steps from broad abstraction back to perceived concrete, in my example from human-made object to chairs, furnaces, and bridges. Consider now Kant’s broad abstractions and alleged innate concepts space, time, and causality.
 
Contrary to Kant, all of these concepts have referents in perceptual reality. Space, to put it rather simply and obviously, is an empty place, such as a room that has no furniture, an available parking location, and the spot on my desk where my water glass was. All of these concepts are perceptual, metaphysical (out there) referents of the (in here) abstraction from abstractions of “space” and “place.”  Note that my examples of space can be described in geometrical terms, respectively, as three dimensional, two dimensional, or just a point, all perceptually grasped.*
 
Time, said Aristotle, is a “measure of motion” as the cubit is a measure of length.** Ayn Rand says it is a “change of relationship,” of one entity that moves from one place to another in relation to an entity that is stationary (256–60). For example, if I move my water glass from the right side of my computer to the left, I become aware of the passage of time.

Historically, time was discovered as the changing phases of the moon in relation to the earth, then later as the movements of the sun across the earth’s sky. It was measured initially by water clocks and sun dials. Today, we base our understanding of time on the revolutions of the earth around the sun and measure it with more and more precise time pieces.

Because we must know several prior concepts—entity, change, motion, measurement—time is a broad abstraction whose referents can be traced back to perceptual concretes. It is not innate.

Causality, according to Rand, is decidedly an abstraction from abstractions, not an innate Kantian category.
 
For Rand, causality is “the law of identity applied to action” (Atlas Shrugged, 1037).  It is the actions of one or more entities in relation to the actions of one or more other entities. Essentially, this is Aristotle’s formal cause, including his distinction between potentiality and actuality, and a rejection of the view that has dominated philosophy of science since the Renaissance. That view looks only at efficient causation, the so-called billiard-ball causality.

One of Rand’s fundamental propositions is that an entity is all its attributes and that is its identity. There is no substratum or glue holding the attributes together, which would take us back to the intrinsic theory of essences. Thus, to arrive at a causal explanation of an event we have to recognize the nature of the entities involved.
 
A billiard ball, for example, going in the pocket of a pool table is not fully explained by saying the cue stick moved in a certain way to knock it in (efficient causation). We have to know that the balls are hard and roll easily on the fabric of the table and a well-chalked cue stick in the hands of a skilled player with good vision hits the ball at the right angle and speed.

The concepts of a round and hard ball, smooth and flat table, chalk and cue stick, and skilled player with accurate eyesight are all attributes of the respective entities and their interactions to cause this event.

Simple billiard-ball causation is not so simple. As can be seen, Aristotle’s other three causes—material, final (when talking about human and other living action), and efficient are relevant in a full explanation of a cause. But formal cause, the nature or identity of the entities involved, is central.
 
The implication of Rand’s view that causality is identity in action is that essentialization is a grasp of causality. Conceptualization through essentialization identifies causes and effects of the existents that the concept identifies. The essential distinguishing characteristic of an entity and Rand’s rule of fundamentality (45–46) say that to identify the essential characteristic of a concept, we must identify the one or more that explains and causes all or most of the others. Again, this means that the explanation is “in here,” in our internal mental process of consciousness and is epistemological, and the causal relationship is “out there,” in reality apart from that mental process and is metaphysical.
 
Thus, cholera is explained and caused by the essential distinguishing characteristics of the comma bacillus (today called Vibrio Cholerae) interacting with the digestive system of the human body. Dew is explained and caused by the characteristics of water condensation, that is, of water vapor in the air interacting with air temperature such that liquid forms on our cars, windows, and leaves of grass. And tides are explained and caused by the attractions between water on earth to the sun and moon as they move, especially the gravitational pull of the moon on the oceans of earth; those oceans that are on the side of earth closest to the moon, and furthest away, “bulge out” and create high tides. The in-between oceans, depending on rotation of the earth, experience low tides.
 
Which is not to say that the above explanations are exhaustive of the respective causes. Qualifications are often required, as the “simple” explanation that water boils at 212º Fahrenheit requires the qualifications “varying by air pressure and purity of water.” Nevertheless, the many concepts involved, which means the many entities with their specific attributes involved, had to be examined in detail through testing and trying in various experiments to arrive at the final essential distinguishing characteristics.

And the word “final” must be taken advisedly as this does not mean these findings are true “eternally.” Knowledge grows and discoveries increase, meaning that our causal definitions are contextual and may need to be adjusted. Einstein’s theory of gravity in relation to Newton’s is just one example of this “editing” of a previous theory.

Conceptualization by measurement omission, which identifies the cause of an event by singling out the essential distinguishing characteristic or characteristics of the existents involved, is the essence of theory in both basic and applied sciences. Measurement is not the essence of science; it is an aid, which may be extensive in some sciences, to the discovery and application of theory.
 
An appropriate note here is to point out that many controlled experiments performed today aimed at determining cause and effect relationships are superfluous, correlational, or performed with less than sound methodology, such as inadequate assumptions or insufficient study time to identify accurate effects. Many such studies only generate historical data, not theory.

Contemporary psychoanalyst Jonathan Shedler states that we do not need to conduct RCTs—randomly controlled trials, as they are called in some sciences, such as medicine—to know that “the sun causes sunburn, sex causes pregnancy, or food deprivation leads to starvation.”
 
These examples, Shedler continues, are known by observation because we know their mechanisms (or means) of action. And these examples, I would add, are applications of well-known concepts that illustrate Aristotle’s formal cause and Rand’s theory of causality. “Mechanism of action” means that by identifying the entities and their attributes in a causal situation—sun, skin, and sunburn; sex organs, sex, and pregnancy; nutritional organs, food, and starvation—we can know their actions and effects on each other.

Conceptualization, grasping the essential distinguishing characteristics of the entities and attributes involved, which includes retention of all the knowledge we have learned to date about the entities, that is, the information in our respective “file folders,” as Rand calls them, are key to knowing the operation of any action.
 
 
* Aristotle in the Physics, iv 212a5–31, preferred to use the word “place,” instead of “space.” Aristotle also regarded mathematical concepts as abstractions from abstractions, stating that the mathematician “strips off all the sensible qualities [of perceptual concretes] . . . and leaves only the quantitative and continuous, sometimes in one, sometimes in two, sometimes in three dimensions.” Metaphysics, 1061a30–35. By implication, using Rand’s theory, we perceive the solid object, then abstract from it the concept of plane, then from plane, the concept of line, and finally from line, the concept of point, which is the highest-level abstraction. Cf. Topics, 141b10–11: “A solid falls under perception most of all, and a plane more than a line, and a line more than point.”
 
** Aristotle, Physics, iv 221a1–3. A little later, Aristotle says time is “not motion, but number of motion.” 221b10. Cubit is an ancient measure of length that extends from one’s bent elbow to the end of the middle finger.

Freud as Scientist

As I have written before (1, 2), the essence of science and scientific method is “conceptualization, the mental process of generalizing to identify universals and applying previously formed universals to understand particular cases.*
 
The former is a process of induction and is called basic science, the latter a process of deduction (1, 2) and is called applied science. Most scientists perform both types in varying degrees, some spending most of their time on basic science, others on application.
 
Scientific method, which seeks to identify the distinguishing characteristic of a physical or mental entity under study and the causal relations between an entity’s attributes and other entities and their attributes, always involves experimentation—testing and trying one’s ideas against the real world. It may or may not be controlled experimentation. Statistical methodology and exact measurement (Applying Principles, 322-24) do not constitute the essence of science, but they can be adjuncts to the formation of universals and both may be helpful in applying those universals.
 
The present post rests on Ayn Rand’s theory of concepts (chap. 1-2), which emphasizes measurement omission in the formation of concepts and therefore in the identification of universals. Looking at an individual concrete instance of a concept means considering all of the concrete’s characteristics. These include quantitative ones that are typically measured by a precise unit, as is the physical sciences. And it includes qualitative characteristics that are typically measured approximately, as in the human sciences.
 
Basic sciences are fundamental sciences, such as physics, biology, and psychology, on which applied sciences rest, such as, respectively, engineering, medicine, and psychotherapy.
 
Sigmund Freud is an excellent example of both a basic and applied scientist of human nature, of the human science of psychology. Psychoanalysis is the basic theory, while psychoanalytic therapy is the applied science or practice of the basic theory. Freud called psychoanalysis the “science of the unconscious,” or depth psychology, while psychology in general, according to Freud, is the science of the soul, which consists of three parts: our conscious reasoning mind and seat of emotions (the I—see last month’s post on English translations), our conscience (the upper I), and unconscious (the it). Freud was an atheist his entire life, as well as a determinist, so the soul for him is not immortal nor do we have free will.
 
Freud as scientist, we might say, is a post-Kantian, modern Aristotelian (see especially chap. 3).“Post-Kantian” means that consciousness has an active, creative nature or identity, while “modern Aristotelian” means that an active, creative consciousness can, guided by Aristotelian logic, accurately perceive reality. A modern Aristotelian in this sense rejects Aristotle’s naïve realism that the essence of a thing is “out there” in the thing but retains his premise of the primacy of existence. Consciousness does not create or distort reality, as Kant and many other philosophers say, or reflect or mirror it, as the naïve realists think. The modern Aristotelian holds that consciousness creates—note the different meaning here of “create,” as opposed to how the Kantians and other primacy-of-consciousness philosophers use the term—concepts and principles based on what it has correctly recognized or identified of reality.
 
As a student, Freud attended the lectures of Aristotelian scholar Franz Brentano and was influenced by him. This is indicated in particular by Freud’s frequent use of the words “nature and essence,” often followed by “origin” (cause) of a mental process that he was trying to identify. He never went looking for Kantian noumena or so-called intrinsic essences or Newtonian algebraic equations. (Freud in fact rarely mentions Kant in his writings.) He does, however, recognize that both normal and abnormal psychologies exhibit quantities of emotional energy that are measured approximately on an ordinal or qualitative scale of less and more.  
 
In Independent Judgment and Introspection (78-79), I point out how Freud spent many years working out the correct meaning of repression as distinguished from the more general concept of defense, clarifying the two in 1926 (97-99, 110-12). In those earlier years he had considered the two synonymous. He recognized finally that repression is a response to anxiety and attempt to allay it, not a cause of anxiety, as he had earlier thought. It is neurotic anxiety that gives rise to the neurotic need for repression.
 
This is conceptualization, and it is how science works.
 
Or as Freud wrote in An Outline of Psycho-Analysis (31), “Every science is based on observations and experiences arrived at through the medium of our psychical apparatus” (that is, our mental processes), though psychology differs from physics in that psychology uses its mental processes to study and make inferences about mental processes, where physics uses the mental processes to make inferences about the external world. Both sciences often infer what is not directly perceivable. This last Freud describes as unrecognizable or invisible—“unerkennbar” in scare quotes in Freud’s German. The standard translation is “unknowable,” but Freud’s meaning clearly is not Kantian. He means that gravity and molecules are no more directly perceivable than the processes of our subconscious minds.
 
In addition, Freud points out, our awareness (through sense perception) of the physical world, provides “insight into connections and dependent relations which are present” in that world, reproduced in our minds as thought and knowledge that enable us not just to understand external reality, but also to anticipate and change it. And because the procedures of the science of psychology are “quite similar” to those of physics, says Freud, our awareness (through introspection) of the mental world provides similar insight about “connections and dependent relations” of the conscious and subconscious mind, to understand both and to anticipate and change (that is, treat through introspective analysis) their mental functioning (Outline, 83).
 
The “thought and knowledge” that accumulates in our minds, whether of physics or psychology, consist of concepts and principles, and the process of forming and applying concepts and principles is conceptualization. To put this in Ayn Rand’s terms, science is the mental process of identifying the nature of entities and their attributes—physical or mental—including in particular the motions of the entities caused by those attributes. This last is Aristotelian causality based on formal causation, or as Rand puts it, causality is “identity in action.”
 
Science thus identifies entities and their attributes and causes and effects (connections and dependent relations) by constructing and defining concepts that identify the nature and essence of those entities and attributes.**
 
To add one more point, Freud as scientist, in the words of philosopher Walter Kaufmann (80), often considers “objections and alternatives,” many of which we still hear today, but were addressed and answered by him in his time, the accusation of “pan-sexualism” just being one example. As Kaufmann writes, considering objections and alternatives is the “essence of critical thinking.”***
 
Let me conclude this post with a description of science and scientific method, especially as it applies to psychology, written by Freud in partial answer to the religious dogmatism of his critics.

This is the way of science: slow, groping, laborious. . . . Through observation one learns something new, now here, now there, and at first the pieces do not fit together. One formulates surmises and makes auxiliary constructions that one takes back when they are not confirmed; one requires a lot of patience, readiness for all possibilities, renounces early convictions lest under their compulsion one should overlook new and unexpected factors; and in the end all this exertion proves worthwhile, the scattered finds do fit together, one gains an insight into an altogether new piece of psychic processes, is done with the task and ready for the next one. Only the help that [controlled] experiments provide for research has to be dispensed with in analysis. (Kaufmann translation, 79-80; see standard translation in New Introductory Lectures on Psycho-Analysis, 215-16).

This is conceptualization.
 
Next month: “The Basic Science of Psychoanalysis.”
 
 
* And, to emphasize, scientists are not the only ones performing these mental processes. We all perform them, generalization especially in our younger years of parental and formal education, application every day using our acquired knowledge to guide our lives.
 
** As this post demonstrates, Freud was most emphatically a scientist, which means he and  his theory of psychoanalysis are in no way “pseudo-science,” as the positivists and, especially, Karl Popper (1, chap. 1; 2, 74-75), like to say.
 
*** I would say that the essence of critical thinking is the formulation of concepts and principles that correctly recognize or identify, that is, not contradict, the facts of reality. It is the ability to perceive reality through unfiltered or discolored lenses. Considering objections and alternatives is one of the main ways we test and try our ideas against reality, that is, remove contradictions.

Mises and Kant (part two of a three-part series) (Go to part one)(part three)

Aristotle’s categories, detailed in his work called The Categories, are fundamental concepts of reality, such as entity, quality, action, etc.
 
Immanuel Kant, using some of those terms, describes categories as fundamental, innate concepts that prevent us from knowing true, noumenal reality. We can only know appearances, says Kant, called the phenomenal world. This creates the impossibility of perceiving “things-in-themselves,” which means concept formation is limited and cannot know concretes (Rickert 1; 2, chap. 5).
 
This is what makes reason impotent to know reality and in essence is Kant’s disastrous influence on later philosophy. It has confounded nearly all who have followed him, including economists such as Ludwig von Mises.
 
But let us go back to birth—of an infant. Perception, which is to say, knowledge of concretes, begins at birth. The infant cries when hungry and cries when having to eliminate. We know this because infants, after a short time out of the womb, will give us a cute smile when sated and when vacated. This is one of our (the infant’s) first perceptions of concretes.
 
Awareness of the concretes of reality is not, or rather should not be, a philosophical problem. We live and act in the world of concretes, which in fact are the so-called things in themselves. A theory of concept formation that incorporates concretes is what has been needed for hundreds of years. Ayn Rand, I submit, has provided this solution and the answer to the philosophical problem of universals (Introduction to Objectivist Epistemology).
 
A child at around one or two, after learning some elementary words, begins to form and apply universal concepts, such as “ball,” “dog,” and “table.”
 
In briefest essence, the child, according to Rand’s theory of concept formation, observes differences and similarities in the world and focuses on the similarities of what we eventually call a ball, dog, or table. Similarities of, say, tables are abstracted from the concretes by omitting their measurable differences, then by integrating the similarities into a new mental entity called a concept. The mind is “so constituted as to be capable of this process,” to borrow a few words from Aristotle (Posterior Analytics, 100a13), which means the child does not have to think about that particular process for it to happen.
 
The concept, using Rand’s metaphor, is like a file folder that includes all concrete, specific tables past, present, or future, observed or not. The (mental) omission of measurements gives us the essential distinguishing characteristic and the nature of the concept as universal. A word labels it and its definition summarizes its meaning, tying it to the general category from which it was differentiated, and to all of those observed and unobserved concretes, its referents “out there” in reality.
 
This is the inductive process of concept formation. Application is the deductive process of recognizing an object initially unfamiliar to us and identifying it as an instance, a concrete, of the concept table.
 
Now let us see what we can say about some of Mises’ confusions caused by German, especially Kantian, philosophy.
 
 
1. A priori categories and the logical structure of the human mind (Human Action, chap. 1 & 2). If by “logical structure of the human mind,” Mises means that consciousness has an active nature, or identity, then he is correct, but Mises says that such categories as causality and human action are innate, prior to experience like, allegedly, mathematics and logic. Therefore, deduction is the fundamental method of praxeology (human science).
 
The a priori/a posteriori distinction, however, is a false dichotomy. All cognition is cognition of reality. If our concepts are true—correctly recognizing or identifying reality—then the most abstract concepts, such as the law of non-contradiction, integral calculus, causality, human action, and the law of supply and demand, are all derived from reality and therefore are empirical. The chain of abstractions required to arrive at these concepts may be extensive, but if true, will be anchored in the perceptual world. In the same way that “human-made object” is anchored in the perceptual world, derived initially from “tables,” “chairs,” and “beds,” and connected to the abstraction from abstraction “furniture,” and still further connected to the broader abstraction of the human made, all the different categories and subcategories of objects that humans create. This last notion of a broader concept becomes a big file folder holding all human-made objects.
 
Mises does not seem to have a notion of abstractions from abstractions, only directly perceivable concretes (an apparent influence from positivism) and the innate categories from which all of economics is supposedly deduced. Indeed, economics is a highly deductive science of application, but its basic concepts and laws are empirically and inductively derived from experience. The concept of human action is not a self-evident axiom, as Mises asserts. Action is an attribute of all living organisms, human action of human beings.
 
 
2. More on the logical structure of the human mind (Human Action, 35).
 
Mises writes, “The human mind is not a tabula rasa on which the external events write their own history.” True. Reality does not write on our minds. We actively identify it.
 
“[The mind] is equipped with a set of tools for grasping reality.” True. We have tools, such as perception, conceptualization, evaluation, etc. They are mental processes that we have the innate capacity or potential to perform. And they constitute the nature or identity of consciousness. But they are not content. Tabula rasa means there is no content in our minds at birth.
 
“Man acquired these tools, i.e., the logical structure of his mind, in the course of his evolution from an amoeba to his present state.” True. “But these tools” Mises continues, “are logically prior to any experience.” They are built-in from birth, yes, and we use them, as mental tools, to identify, not passively receive, reality and to guide our choices and actions.*
 
 
3. Does Mises believe we can know reality? Yes, and this, along with his methodological individualism and emphasis on the nature of things (money, capitalism), makes him Aristotelian, or as Hülsmann (liii) says, “a representative of Aristotelian realism.” In his last book on epistemological issues, Mises writes, “From the praxeological point of view it is not possible to question the real existence of matter, of physical objects and of the external world” (Ultimate Foundation of Economic Science, 6).
 
In Human Action (36), though, he is more equivocal: “It is idle to ask whether things-in-themselves are different from what they appear to us, and whether there are worlds which we cannot divine and ideas which we cannot comprehend. These are problems beyond the scope of human cognition.”**
 
To clarify, nothing is unknowable—with emphasis on the -able—to the human mind. We do not live in a phenomenal world, unable to know the noumenal. We live in reality. And the appearance of a bent stick in water is a correct perception of what looks like, or rather appears to be, a bent stick, though with the use of our sense of touch and our knowledge of the causal effects of light in water, we know that the thing-in-itself stick is not bent. (See the form-object distinction in Rand, 279-82.)
 
 
To be continued next month. At this point, let me emphasize that my comments about Mises are not meant to be serious criticisms of his work. His accomplishments are vast and exemplary, even his partially mistaken epistemology, and especially considering his professional life where he was not offered a professorship in either Vienna or New York. In spite of this he taught and wrote tirelessly as a decades-long lone voice for laissez-faire capitalism. He needs to be read.
 
 
* Ayn Rand rejects the correspondence theory of truth and the misleading notion of “grasping” reality, a relic of naïve realism (though she does use the word in a metaphorical sense). Hers is an identification theory of truth. Our minds must actively focus on reality and form those concepts to identify correctly what is “out there.” The “out there” is what Rand would say is metaphysical, whereas the “in here,” the mental processing of our consciousness, is epistemological. The empirically derived and recognized principles of the applied science of logic, and especially the law of non-contradiction, are the tools by which we judge whether or not our mental content has correctly identified reality or contradicted it.
 
** This quotation apparently is Mises’ way of dismissing as unimportant Kant’s dilemma of appearance versus reality and of asserting his emphasis on analyzing the world in which we live—the Aristotelian world. A few pages later (Human Action, 39), he writes, “Praxeology conveys exact and precise knowledge of real things,” and in Ultimate Foundation, 18, he says, “We see reality, not as it ‘is’ and may appear to a perfect being, but only as the quality of our mind and of our senses enables us to see it,” which I would take to mean reality with no Kantian distortions.

Read part one, part three.

On Science and the Scientific Method

The purpose of science is to explain and guide, and the method scientists use, in briefest essence, is observation to raise questions followed by frequent testing and trying of alternatives to find correct answers.
 
In a single word, scientific method is conceptualization, the mental process of generalizing to identify universals and applying previously formed universals to understand particular cases. The former is a process of induction, the latter a process of deduction (1, 2).
 
We all use both cognitive processes, but scientists use them more intensely and in more concentrated areas.
 
Scientific method may or may not involve controlled experimentation with an elaborate array of instruments and it may or may not produce mathematical equations and hosts of quantitative data.
 
The ultimate aim of science is practical, to enhance human life.
 
The most fundamental science is philosophy or, as some have said, philosophy is the science of all sciences, with epistemology providing the principles of method to guide scientists in their choices and actions. The current post is based on Ayn Rand’s epistemology, especially her theory of concepts.
 
There are three fundamental special sciences: the physical that study inanimate matter and its actions; the biological that study living organisms and their behavior; and the human that study homo sapiens—the highest living organism that possesses a consciousness with the capacity to reason—and its behavior.
 
Special sciences representative of each are physics and chemistry, botany and zoology, psychology and economics.
 
All other sciences derive their basic premises from one or more of the fundamental ones. Derivative sciences are more applied than the fundamental ones and at some point may be called technology or applied sciences—engineering, medicine, psychotherapy.
 
Applied sciences are largely, though not exclusively, deductive. The fundamental sciences are largely, though not exclusively, inductive.
 
To return to our beginning concepts, the aim of science is not explanation and prediction as the logical positivists insist, but explanation and guidance. To explain means to describe the nature of an entity, its attributes, and its causal origin and effects. To guide means to provide principles of action to help human beings achieve specific goals.
 
Principles of guidance can be used to build spaceships and bridges; to diagnose diseases in plants, animals, and humans to recommend treatments; to manage small and large businesses; to make baskets (pp. 299-301); and to decide whether a specific action would be honest.
 
Ethics is a fundamental branch of philosophy that provides important principles of guidance throughout our lives.
 
Testing and trying are the etymological roots of the word “experiment” and testing and trying is what anyone who possesses the capacity to reason does to conclude that an essential distinguishing characteristic has been identified.
 
A child, for example, may throw, bounce, and chew a round, spongy thing before concluding that the round, spongy thing is a ball that bounces and rolls (but is not food). Aristotle opened twenty fertilized chicken eggs, one per day, to observe the development of chicks from beating speck of blood to live baby chicken. In this way, he tested and confirmed the hypothesis that baby birds are not born pre-formed, but grow gradually stage by stage within the egg (see Harré, chap. 1).
 
Today’s scientists test and try many options, sometimes using controlled experimentation to eliminate sources of extraneous variation. In the physical sciences, they may identify algebraic equations to explain the relationship between two or more entities or their attributes or actions.
 
The biological and human sciences, however, because of the nature of their subjects cannot be so precise. Since all concept formation, as Ayn Rand has shown (chap. 1 &2), involves measurement—measurement omission to arrive at the universal—these sciences can be quantified to a limited extent, using approximate measurements, such as greater than or less than, higher or lower, more important or less important.
 
The human sciences, of course, have the added proviso that free will reduces to absurdity the formulating of equations to predict behavior. All sciences work with universals by omitting—but certainly not forgetting—the measurements.
 
Technology or applied science uses measurements of individual cases, such as the engineer who needs to decide the best location of a new bridge or the sea captain who needs a reliable estimate of the tides in a specific harbor. The medical doctor needs to know a patient’s temperature and blood pressure and the psychotherapist needs an estimate of the kind and quantity of thinking errors an unhappy patient has made over the years.
 
Essentialization is the fundamental thinking method of scientists (and everyone else) because the essential distinguishing characteristic or essence of a concept explains and causes all or most of the other characteristics. The flat, level surface of a table explains why my glass of water sits stably on it and causes the liquid to stay within the glass. The motions of the sun and moon explain and cause the motions of water on earth.
 
Essentialization can be thought of as thinking in causes and effects.
 
Principles of guidance also explain the nature of the goals one is seeking and the steps that will cause that accomplishment. To sell a product, the salesperson must tailor his or her presentation to the prospect’s needs and wants. To build a bridge, the engineer needs to know many specifics, including precise measurements, of the width of the river and the nature and history of its soil.
 
Where does history fit in to this? Science, whether basic or applied, can be referred to as theory. History requires and uses theory to identify the nature and causes of a specific case, such as sedimentary rock embedded at a forty-five degree angle several thousand feet up on a mountainside or the nature and cause of a specific war.
 
What is called natural history uses theory from the physical sciences and human history uses theory from the human sciences to explain the nature and causes of the cases each study.
 
History is applied science.

How Do We Know Concretes?

To the layperson the title of this post must seem strange.
 
To academics, especially philosophers, the issue for a couple of millennia has been a big deal.
 
Of course we know concretes, says the layperson. We open our eyes and look out at the world—to see specific, individual, concrete people, animals, plants, and things. Reminiscing about our childhood, we can recall many specific, individual concrete events, ranging from games we played with relatives or next door friends to vacations taken with the family to the years spent in various schools.
 
And historians specialize in reporting the concretes of the past, do they not? Well, throughout the nineteenth century, and still today, historians, along with psychotherapists, medical doctors—and anyone working in applied fields—are said not to be true scientists. Only theoreticians are scientists. This is the dispute over theory versus history.*
 
To put the issue in more philosophical terms, we live in a world of particulars, yet with the exception of proper names our knowledge consists of universals.
 
Theories, science, and principles are all expressed in terms of universals. How do we use those universals to know particulars?
 
The problem arises from the theory sometimes called naïve realism—Aristotle’s improvement on Plato—that says universals are external to our minds, lodged, so to speak, in the things of reality, “out there,” but not in Plato’s separate realm.
 
Aristotle said that the form is embedded in the matter, form being his word for what in more modern terms we call essence or essential distinguishing characteristic. Matter, as in the stuff that something is made of, is what makes the thing a unique, concrete individual entity.
 
How can we know concretes when nearly all knowledge is universal? The glass on my desk, so the theory goes, contains “glassness,” the universal essence that we grasp and understand as a thing we drink liquids out of. The glass, or in my case, plastic, that the container is made of is its matter, and this includes its color and the number of ounces of liquid it can hold.
 
The matter of the glass, we could say, is that the glass on my desk is plastic, its color is blue, and it holds twelve ounces. Does that mean we have understood the concreteness of this glass?
 
No, say the critics of Aristotle’s common sense realism, because we are using universals in every word (“plastic, blue, twelve ounces”) to describe this individual concrete. We fail to get to “the thing in itself” (the thing as it really is, its identity), a problem that led John Locke, in exasperation, to conclude that the individuality of a thing is “something I know not what.” Further problems led David Hume to fail to find a “necessary connection” between cause and effect, heading us down the road to Immanuel Kant who said we can never know true, noumenal reality (where the “thing in itself” is presumed to reside).
 
And that is where we are today—reality is unknowable, concepts are arbitrary, and nothing is universal—with bad consequences in ethics and politics: values are subjective and there is no objectively valid, justifiable political or economic system.
 
Thomas Hobbes said we need a strong “public sword” to keep the peace among warring groups, each with its own arbitrary values, but today’s postmoderns want to crush any group with different values, especially those who advocate capitalism.
 
In other words, dictatorship follows from philosophy’s failure to solve the so-called problem of universals.
 
But let’s go back to our layperson who looks out at the world and sees a myriad of concrete things and their attributes. Although such a layperson may still think in Aristotle’s realist tradition by saying, “I just look and see glassness in the glass,” the conclusion is not correct, because there is in fact no essence of glassness in the thing out there. The layperson’s mind is doing more than he or she thinks.
 
What Aristotle called abstraction—mentally separating the form from its matter—is a more complicated process than he knew.
 
Concept formation, or conceptualization, is the human being’s method of turning percepts into universal concepts. How does this occur?
 
All knowledge begins at birth with perception, by observing concrete particulars. Later, when we begin to talk, we learn to form concepts, which become our universals.
 
Ayn Rand’s theory (ch. 1 and 2) holds that concepts and essential distinguishing characteristics are in our minds, not “out there” in the thing, but if we correctly identify what’s “out there,” the essences and concepts are objective, in an epistemological sense, not intrinsic or metaphysical as both Plato and Aristotle thought.
 
The process proceeds as follows. We perceive many similarities and differences among the things of the world. When we focus on one group of similar things that are somewhat similar to, but also different from, another group, we have isolated something we want to identify with a concept and word.
 
To form the concept, we focus on the characteristic(s) that explains and causes most of the others, then omit its measurements. Measurement omission in the process of abstraction is what enables us to identify the essence of the concept.
 
Using Rand’s example of forming the concept “table,” we isolate (from chairs and beds) those objects that have flat surfaces and are designed to hold smaller objects. Individual, concrete tables differ according to their measurements, but the measurements of their height, length, width, color, oval vs. rectangular top, etc., are omitted to make the concept of “tableness.”
 
The omitted measurements are still there, in reality and in the concept formation process, but they are not used (or necessary) to form the concept. Identifying that tables are flat and hold other objects is all we need to know to distinguish tables from chairs and beds and to give us the essence or essential distinguishing characteristic of tableness. Particular height, width, weight, color, shape of top, etc., are left out. A word and definition are finally assigned to complete the process of concept formation.
 
All the varying aspects of each entity in the world, including the varying measurements of all its qualities, and including its location and time of existence, are what give each entity its unique individual, concrete identity.
 
How do we know the entity as a concrete? To say it one more time, initially through perception.
 
We then identify it with a concept and word. Then, our ever expanding accumulation of concepts—our increasing knowledge—enables us to know and describe the concretes in their extensive variety, their attributes and actions and their myriad differences according to their varying measurements.
 
Assuming our concepts accurately describe the concretes they represent, that is, their referents out there in reality, and are not detached or floating, we have objective knowledge.
 
And that objective knowledge can be theory or history, basic science or applied science, general knowledge or personal knowledge. In all cases, it is knowledge of the concretes of reality.
 
Our minds are not “mirrors of nature,” as critics of “naïve” Aristotelian realism often say. They are active processors of it. Rand’s recognition of the mind’s active nature and her incorporation of it into her theory provides a major improvement on and defense of Aristotle’s epistemology.
 
We might, although she may not like it, even call Ayn Rand’s theory a “mature” realism about knowledge.
 
 
* Ludwig von Mises clarified the issue by rejecting the Hegelian-Marxist view that there are laws of history. Rather, Mises recognized that there is a valid science of individual historical events using the theories of basic sciences, especially psychology and economics, to understand and describe those events. Psychotherapists and medical doctors, in addition, use the theory of basic sciences to identify and treat their patients’ problems, which to the therapist and doctor are de facto historical events. This is called applied science.