Reading Notes: June 13th, 2023

G.F. Stout’s God & Nature

Chapter XVII—“Cognitive Unity as Implying the Unity of the Universe”

(I) The Unity of the Mind-Complex 

“A material thing contains parts which are themselves material things in the same sense as the whole to which they belong, and as such retain their identity when separated from the whole. The fragments of a broken cup, for instance, pre-exist as parts of the unbroken cup, and continue to exist as distinct parcels of matter when the cup has be shattered. But mind does not contain other minds as its parts. It has therefore a peculiar unity which does not and cannot belong to matter. Just in so far as a mind has this peculiar unity, it is what we call an individual self. It is not divisible into other units of the same sort.” (Stout, God & Nature, 264) 

“What is implied in this unity? It is clear that whatever else it implies, it at least involves the interconnexion of different cognitions, feelings and conations with each other as entering into a complex unity of an altogether unique kind. But it may also be held, and is very frequently taken for granted, that as the indispensable condition of this complex unity there must also be a simple being, distinct from it and all its various cognitions, feelings and conations, which serves to connect them with each other. This simple being itself is known only through a “that-which” definition. It is “that which” owns, and in owning connects, the various modes and phases of knowledge and interest. So conceived, it is called the “pure subject” or “transcendental self,” and is contrasted with the empirical or historical self—the more or less unified complex which passes through various vicissitudes in the life of the individual. A distinction of this sort is not due merely to the subtlety of metaphysicians, but is found in a vague form in our ordinary uncritical thought. We naturally tend to represent the mind as if it were a circle or sphere, the circumference corresponding to the objects minded by it, the radii to its various ways of minding them, and the punctual simplicity of the center to the pure subject. Some such diagrammatic representation is for the practical purposes of ordinary daily life highly convenient, and for these purposes not seriously misleading. But we must not precipitately translate it into a hard and fast metaphysical theory.” (Stout, God & Nature, 264-265) 

“Whether there is a pure subject or not, at any rate there is a complex mental life—a mind-complex; and we are justified in asserting the existence of a pure subject only if the complex unity of mental life can be shown to presuppose it as an indispensable condition. We must then analyze the mind-complex, so as to determine wherein its unity consists, and what is and is not included in the unity of the manifold. We have first to note that there are two sides to our mental life, distinct though inseparable, which are broadly distinguishable as (1) knowledge of objects, and (2) interest in them. In discussing the unity of the mind-complex, it is necessary for the sake of clearness to deal first with cognitive unity and then with unity of interest. (For reasons which will appear as we proceed, it would be impossible to reverse this order).” (Stout, God & Nature, 265)  

(II) Cognitive Unity and its Objective Correlate 

“What is unity of knowledge? If we consider this question just as it stands, and do not mix it with others arising out of it, the answer is simple and direct. Unity of knowledge is identical with knowledge unity. It is actual or potentially present if and so far as items in any way diverse are or can be known or thought of as in any way connected or related, or as partial features or aspects of any kind of whole. Suppose that a sound is perceived and then another sound after it; if the second is apprehended as succeeding the first, or louder than the first, or different from the first, or otherwise related to it, to this extent both are known in one undivided knowledge. If such relations are not actually known or thought of, yet, in so far as it is possible that they may be so, the cognitive unity is potential. On the other hand, where distinct items are severally apprehended but without any cognisance, actual or potential, of relation between them, there is no cognitive unity. This happens, for instance, when two successive sounds, one known only to A and the other only to B. When this is so, there cannot be any known relation between them either in the mind of A or in that of B. It is just discontinuities of this sort which constitute A and B as distinct cognitive individuals.” (Stout, God & Nature, 265-266) 

“Assuming that this analysis is correct as far as it goes, it is yet in one respect fundamentally inadequate. It fails to account for cognitive unity, actual or potential, as coextensive with the unity of the individual “I” or “self.” For anything we have hitherto said, it might occur, so to speak in patches isolated from each other, according as objects happened to present themselves each with an internal unity of its own, but self-complete in detachment from the others. We have, then, still to account for cognitive unity as necessarily pervading and connecting, potentially or actually, all stages and phases in the life-history of an individual mind. In other words, we have to account for the motive which has led, rightly or wrongly, to the theory of a pure subject. We can do this only in one way. There must be for the knowing individual, one all-inclusive object, comprehending all other objects—whether particular or universal, actual, possible or impossible—as its partial and essentially incomplete features and aspects. It follows that whatever else the individual knows he must in some measure and degree, however rudimentary, be cognisant of the universe in its unity. But how? In very different ways and degrees, varying with the special conditions of individual existence and stages of mental development: different for us, at the level of the present philosophical discussion, and for the cat watching a mouse-hole. Yet the cat’s knowledge, just as much as ours, presupposes the unity of the universe: otherwise it could never go beyond the content of its own immediate experience, and could not even know this. What we require is a general view applying to all stages of mental development—to animals as well as to human beings.” (Stout, God & Nature, 266-267) 

(III) Cognitive Unity Includes Ignorance 

“The first and most important step is to recognize that cognitive unity includes not only what is commonly called knowledge, but also what is commonly called ignorance. This would be impossible if the ignorance consisted in the absolute absence of all cognitive relation between the mind and what it is ignorant of. But this is not so. We may indeed, by straining the use of language, say that a stone is absolutely ignorant in this sense. It is so because it is also incapable of knowledge. The stone does not know what is happening at the center of the earth; neither do I. But the stone’s ignorance, if we may use the word at all, is essentially different from mine. What I say that I am ignorant of, I at least know as being unknown to me, and as connected with what I do know. In this sense my ignorance has an object, and the stone’s has none. In this sense it is equally true to say that the stone is ignorant of everything, and that it is ignorant of nothing. But if I said that I was ignorant of nothing, I could only mean that I know everything. Now we have seen that the cognitive unity of the individual, as pervading, potentially or actually, all phases of his life-history, implies the unity of the universe as the form of all his knowledge. But if this be so, all ignorance on the part of an individual knower must be of the relative type, and not at all comparable with the nescience of a stone. He must at least refer to what he is ignorant of as belonging to the domain of the unknown, and as connected with what he otherwise knows. Thus his cognitive unity will include both his knowledge and his ignorance.” (Stout, God & Nature, 267-268) 

“This is plain enough when we consider the mental attitude of questioning or inquiring, of seeking to know what we do not know already. When we raise a question, we do not, indeed, know what the answer is. None the less, in the very act of questioning, we define what it is that we are ignorant of. We define it as related in a more or less determinate way to what is presupposed in the question itself. What is thus presupposed is apprehended as essentially incomplete, and the answer is apprehended as what is required to complete it. But if knowledge of the unknown, as such, is implied in the ignorance which takes shape in actual questions, it must also be implied in the ignorance which does not. It is implied in the mere possibility of asking questions, so far as this depends on the nature of the object, and not on the subjective interest or other special conditions of individual existence. There must be a field for inquiry offered to the cognitive subject—a field apprehended as unknown, an object therefore of relative and not absolute ignorance. But what we know and what, in this relative sense, we do not know, constitute together one universe of being, which is the correlate and counterpart of the unity of knowledge.” (Stout, God & Nature, 268) 

(IV) Degrees of Cognitive Unity 

“The unity of knowledge is essential to the unity and identity of every cognitive individual. Each, as Leibniz said, represents the universe from his own point of view. In different individuals the unity is present in very different ways and degrees, according to the diverse conditions and circumstances of their finite existence. It may be complete, though in a manner incomprehensible to us, in the Universal Mind. In finite individuals it is variously restricted by the limitations of their immediate experience, by the special constitution of their bodies and the environment in which they are placed, and by their limited power of forming mental dispositions through which reacquired knowledge is retained and reproduced as the basis of subsequent developments.” (Stout, God & Nature, 268-269) 

“Of these conditions, the limitations of interest and retentiveness are most fundamental. We may illustrate the way in which they operate by considering in broad outline the typical contrast between the mental life of man and that of animals. Human beings are capable of a progressive development which is impossible under the conditions of animal life. They penetrate the region of the unknown by a process in which the answers to previous questions open out new lines of inquiry, and in which the answers to different questions are made to through light on each other. Knowledge thus becomes at once wider in range and more completely unified. This of course holds in very varying degrees for different men and different groups of men. But, in the main, capacity for such development marks off distinctively human reason from animal intelligence. Its highest stage is reached when the unity of the universe, which even in animals is the logical form of knowledge, becomes itself more or less clearly and explicitly an object of though and inquiry. I occupy this position in the present volume; but it is also equally occupied by the sceptics, such as Mr. Russell, who doubt or deny that the universe is a unity. For if it were not a unity, I do not see how the question whether it is so could even be raised at all.” (Stout, God & Nature, 269)  

(V) Cognitive Unity in Animals 

“This progressive development, which culminates in the system of the sciences, in the higher forms of religion, and in philosophy, is arrested in its initial stages by the conditions of animal as distinct from human existence. One fundamental reason is the specific limitation of the range of animal interests. If a potential question is to be an actual questioning, the individual must feel a need which requires the question to be answered. In human beings the progressive opening out of relatively novel fields for inquiry is in a large measure accompanied by the emergence of relatively new directions of interest and attention. In an animal, on the contrary, interest is circumscribed by what we call animal needs, and consists mainly in instincts, impulses and emotions, more or less modified and specialized by experience. These are concerned primarily with the search for food, self-protection against danger, sexual relations, the care for offspring and the like. Even in these directions they are circumscribed in a peculiar way. They are mainly such that they can be satisfied by immediate bodily action in relation to sensibly present situations as these arise, and do not require the working out of plans in advance of the occasion for putting them into execution. This is made possible in the first instance because the animal has not only congenital interests, excitable under appropriate circumstances, but also another sort of congenital equipment. Its neuro-muscular system is congenitally so organized that in the presence of the appropriate situation which conditions impulse and emotion, it finds itself performing complex movements, useful in the satisfaction of its needs, which it does not have to learn by experience.” (Stout, God & Nature, 269-270) 

“Thus nature does for the animal what human beings have to learn for themselves. When animals are not thus engaged in meeting the practical exigencies of a present situation, they either tend to sink into somnolence, or to gratify in the form of play the same primitive impulses as occupy them in the serious business of their lives. The kitten practices with the fallen leaves the movements of a cat with a mouse. Besides this limitation of interest, and closely connected with it, there is a limitation on the side of retentiveness and reproduction. Animals do indeed learn by experience. They retain knowledge previously acquired in their practical dealings with previous situations, so as to bring it to bear on new situations more or less similar. What is wanting to them, or present only in a comparatively slight degree, is the power of free ideal revival. By this I mean such revival as is involved in occupying the mind more or less persistently with what is not connected with circumstances present to the senses at the time. Under trains of free ideas we have to include not only idea anticipation of the future, but also series of reminiscences of what has happened in the past. A dog may miss his master acutely. But there is no reason to believe that he sits down and calls to mind in successive order past scenes and incidents in which they both shared. Or, to take a less sentimental example from Dr. Ward, one can hardly imagine a retrospective dog “regretting, like one of Punch’s heroes, that he did not have another slice of that mutton.” This contrast between the human and animal mind illustrates in a conspicuous example the way in which cognitive unity may vary in detail, its fundamental nature remains the same. It consists throughout in apprehension of relation and connexion, it embraces the field of what we call ignorance, and is essentially correlated with the unity of the universe.” (Stout, God & Nature, 270-271) 

(VI) Is There an Act or State of Knowing? 

“Must we add that it presupposes a pure subject, distinct from it, on which it depends? The usual argument of those who hold this view is as follows: If A is to be known as related to B, the same being who knows A must also know B. There must therefore be a cognitive subject distinct from both A and B, and equally present to both of them. But this reasoning plainly moves within a vicious circle. It is true that if A can only be known by a pure subject, and if again B can only be known by a pure subject, it must be the same pure subject which knows the relation between them. If, however, neither the knowledge of A nor that of B, taken by itself, presupposes a pure subject, there is no reason why such a subject should be required to account for knowledge of a relation between them. What has to be shown is that, quite apart from reference to cognitive unity, knowledge as such includes (1) a pure subject, set over against an object, (2) a distinct relation of a peculiar kind between the cognitive subject and the object. This analysis raises the further question how we are to conceive the relation between knower and known. The most natural suggestion is that, following the apparent analogy of such processes as desire and will, we should regard knowing as an act or state of the subject, and what is known as the object of this act. Now I entirely deny that there is any subjective act or state which can property be called cognitive. Here I come into violent collision with the neo-realists and especially with Mr. Moore, for whom the fundamental fallacy of idealism consists in an alleged confusion between what is known and the supposed act of knowing it.” (Stout, God & Nature, 270-271) 

“At the outset I have to notice a very important ambiguity. What, strictly speaking, are we to regard as the object of the supposed cognitive act? Is it only what is already being known, or is it also and as well what is as yet unknown? Does the cognitive act bring within our ken what we were previously ignorant of, or does it only begin to exist when ignorance has given place to knowledge? Is there no difference between the knowing of things and the process which makes them known? The question, once definitely raised, seems to answer itself. There must be a difference. Yet those who maintain the theory of cognitive acts do not appear to recognize a distinction. For them knowing is not merely knowing, but also a process whereby things with a being and nature independent of the mind are in the first instance brought into cognitive relation to it. It follows inevitably from this tacit assumption that the mind can only be externally related to its objects, and thus there can be no standing-ground for idealism. The cognitive act is supposed in the first instance to be “directed upon” something quite distinct and separate from the mind whose act it is. This being so, the same mutual externality and independence must remain, when the thing has actually become known. For the act is taken to be the same, whether it is the act of making known what is unknown or the act of knowing it when it is known. It thus becomes impossible to regard what is known as being in the mind or belonging to the mind complex.” (Stout, God & Nature, 272-273)   

 

“To say this would be like saying that when a stone breaks glass, the glass becomes part of the stone which breaks it. Those who regard knowledge as an external relation do, in fact, picture it to themselves as if it were a relation between bodies external to each other in space. Consciously or unconsciously, they confuse it with the relation of the percipient’s body to the thing which he sees and touches. Just as, in looking at a table, the body confronts the table with the eyes turned towards it, so in knowing, the mind is pictured as confronting what it knows, and turning towards this in a cognitive act. From this point of view it is just as great nonsense to say that what is known, just because it is known, is in the mind which knows it, as it is to say that the table seen, just because it is seen, is in the eye used in seeing it. I have no doubt that Professor Alexander’s use of the words “contemplate” and “contemplation” tends to ensnare him in this metaphor. What the words inevitably suggest is the picture of someone gazing at something with his bodily eyes. This bodily attitude being ascribed confusedly to the mind also, the mind is imagined as confronting or standing over against what it knows. It follows from this discussion that we have a twofold question to deal with. (1) Is knowing itself an act? (2) Is it a cognitive act of essentially the same kind as that by which we penetrate the region of ignorance, asking questions and getting answers and, in general, making known what was previously unknown? I am prepared to maintain, first, that knowing itself is not an act, and, secondly, that the process by which we come to know what we did not know before does involve an activity, but that this activity is not itself knowledge.” (Stout, God & Nature, 273-274) 

(VII) Getting to Know, or Attending, is a Mental Activity 

“There is indeed a mental activity which brings, or tends to bring, within the sphere of positive knowledge what was previously outside it. But this always consists in some form of subjective interest, and some phase of conation, with its inseparable feeling, agreeable or disagreeable. The interest is such that it requires for its fulfilment fuller knowledge of what is already known imperfectly. It includes all questioning, inquiry, seeking, searching, watching, waiting, taking notice, being on alert, grappling with a problem, following the thread of an argument, concentration on a topic, etc. We may conveniently comprehend all its various modes and phases under a common term—Attention. Attention always presupposes knowledge, and tends to give rise to fuller knowledge. But in itself is a form of interest and not a cognitive act. There is therefore no subjective act having this function which can be strictly and properly called an act of knowledge.” (Stout, God & Nature, 274) 

(VIII) Is Judgment or Assertion a Cognitive Act? 

“Let us now examine actual knowledge as distinct from the processes which give rise to it. From this point of view it may seem that there is at least one cognitive act, that of judging or mentally asserting. What is this if it is not cognitive? I answer that in so far as it is an act, it is not mere cognition. The word judgment is ambiguous. In its widest application, it covers all knowledge about anything; there is judgment in this sense whenever anything is known as being such and such, or so and so related, or even as existing at all. It is thus coextensive with knowledge in general. But in this sense it by no means implies anything that can be called a mental act of asserting or believing. When we look at a page of print, we apprehend the black letters as being letters and black, and as contrasted with the white paper. But we do not usually go through the act of mentally affirming that there are letters, that they are black, and that as such they are contrasted with the surrounding white. Similarly, when I meet a man in the street, I know him for a man, but I do not usually say to myself “this is a man,” or go through any process akin to the act of judging which would be expressed in this verbal statement. It is no exaggeration to say that by far the greater part of what we know or believe is thus taken for granted, without any acts of asserting or believing. Even what we do assert is picked out from a complex background which is not asserted but merely known.” (Stout, God & Nature, 275)

“If I say, “The sun has dark spots on it”, this presupposes that there is a sun with all the qualities and relation which give the word “sun” meaning and significance for me; yet I am not asserting that there is a sun, and I am not asserting anything of it except that it has dark spots. The distinction is well illustrated by that between the merely attributive and the predicative use of adjectives. In the statement that “The white horse is lame”, whiteness is not affirmed of the horse as lameness is, yet the horse is known or believed to be white. The act of asserting or believing arises only when the thought of alternatives is in some way suggested. When I see a man plainly, I take him for a man without mentally affirming that he is so. But if I see something dimly in the distance, and want to know what it is, then, if on approaching it my curiosity is satisfied, I mentally make the judgment which would be expressed in the words “it’s a man” or “it’s a tree”. Though for the most part I simply see the sun as shining without asserting that it shine, yet if I happen to think of yesterday’s rain and this suggests the thought that it might have been raining now, I acknowledge, with or without words, that “the sun is shining today”. In general, the act of judging is always preconditioned by an interrogative attitude of mind. Alternatives are suggested, so that the question arises: Which is realized? The answer may follow so close on the heels of the question, that the question is, so to speak, suppressed at its birth. I say to a man, “Are you sober?” and he replies at once, “Of course I am”. In his mind, if not in mine, the question is answered as soon as asked. If would never have occurred to him if I had not thrust it upon him.” (Stout, God & Nature, 275-276)

“In what sense then does the act of judgment consist? It consists in concentrating on one alternative as if there were no others. If the discarded alternatives are before the mind at all, they are not so in the same sense. They may be present as alternative answers to the question “What might be or might have been?” not to the question “What is or may be?” There is a close analogy between the act of judging and that of voluntary decision. The difference lies in the nature of the initial question, which is not “What alternative is in fact real?” but “What alternative shall I make real?” The act of deciding, like that of judging, consists in fixing the attention on one alternative and withdrawing it from others. When the thought of something to be done occupies attention, bodily action follows of itself, so far as it is otherwise in our power.” (Stout, God & Nature, 277)

(IX) Knowledge, being a Condition of all Subjective Acts, Cannot itself be a Subjective Act 

“We conclude then that acts of judging and supposing, as well as acts of questioning, doubting, inquiring, though they essentially imply cognition as their precondition, are not themselves cognitive. The decision between alternatives in an act of judgment is, like an act of voluntary choice, a phase of conative process; it presupposes knowledge, but the character on account of which we call it an act is conative, not cognitive. When we consider knowledge in abstraction from all such states and processes, it is impossible to detect in it any act of knowing distinct from its object, as, for instance, desire is distinct from what is desired. There can be no subjective act or state of this sort without an object to which it is directed. But the object is an object for a subject only if and so far as it is already known or thought of. Knowledge, then, is a logical pre-condition of all subjective acts or states, and therefore cannot itself be a subjective act or state. To be an object for me, it is not enough that a thing should have being apart from me. As known or thought of it must be, to use the phrase of ordinary language, “in the mind.” Whether I assert or deny, doubt or suppose that pigs have wings, or inquire whether they have them, or desire that they should have them, or am pleased that they do have them, I must already know what is meant by “pigs having wings”.” (Stout, God & Nature, 277) 

“If this analysis is correct, there is no distinction between known and being known at all analogous to that between striking and being struck, or even to that of being above and being below. The difference is only in the point of view from which the same fact is regarded. When I say “I know something” I emphasize the relation which it thereby acquires with my mind-complex as a whole. It is connected with other things known within my cognitive unity. It is an actual or possible object of my subjective states or processes, such as desire and aversion. On the other hand, when I say, “This is known to be,” though all these relations to my mental complex as a whole are implied, they are not especially emphasized. Knowledge is rather considered from the point of view of the thing, and stress is laid on the distinction between being known and being unknown.” (Stout, God & Nature, 277-278) 

(X) “Knownness” is Not a Passing State of What is Known but a Unique Fact 

“What account are we to give of this distinction? Plainly “knownness,” if we may be allowed the word, has no separate existence as a distinct particular by the side of what is known. Knownness is only abstractly distinguishable from what is known. Are we then to regard it as a passing state of what is known, so that the transition from being unknown to being known is like that from what solid to water fluid? The suggested analogy breaks down in essential respects. (1) In the first place, seeing that the same being may be simultaneously known to many distinct individuals, we should have to ascribe to it as many numerically distinct states indistinguishable in kind, existing together. It is as if we were to attribute to the same water several distinct fluidities at once. (2) In the second place, the supposed state of being known involves no change or difference in the qualities and relations which belong to the thing as unknown. There cannot be any alteration in these. Otherwise, it would not be what was previously unknown that became known. It is not a passage from one positive state to another incompatible with it, which ceases to exist in the transition. Being unknown is not such a positive state. It is only the absence of knownness. (3) Clearly connected with this is another essential distinction. Knownness is not merely one character among others. It has the unique peculiarity of qualifying all the other characters, at least potentially.” (Stout, God & Nature, 278-279) 

“When we say that a piece of water is fluid, it is not implied that its transparency, or specific gravity, or bulk or shape is fluid. It is meaningless to assert that its fluidity is itself fluid, or that its previously solid state is fluid, or that the change from this to the fluid state is fluid. Yet all this is capable of being known. Even the character of being known, and the difference between being known and being unknown, and the passage from being known to being unknown are facts of which we are cognizant. As we have seen, even in ignorance, and more definitely in inquiry, we at least know the unknown as such. For these reasons, we must refuse to regard knownness either as a state of what is known or as a relation, whether external or internal, to anything else.  It is a unique and ultimate fact for which all analogies break down when they are pushed too far. But since we must refer to it in some language, we have to select terms for the purpose. The usage of the schoolmen, though not satisfactory, seems on the whole best to supply what is required. The difference between being known and being unknown to this or that individual was described by them as a difference between two ways of being, two manners of existing. The being which belongs to things even when they are unknown is called by them “formal” being. The way of being which consists in being known, is called “objective” being, because through it things are objects for a mind. They are also said to have “intentional” being, inasmuch as the mind is intended or directed towards them. The word “intentional” implies an act, and for the schoolmen it implied that knowledge itself is an act. But we may interpret it as meaning that form of being which is necessary in order that anything may be the object of a subjective state or activity. Whatever is to be the object of attention or desire or hope or fear, must first be an object, i.e., it must be known or thought of.” (Stout, God & Nature, 279-280) 

“This account of knowledge is in no way inconsistent with what is fundamentally true in neo-realism, the position that knowing in no way alters the being of what is known. On the contrary, nothing can be or become known except insofar as it has formal being. There is no being which merely consists in being perceived or thought of. The formal being need not, of course, be actual particular existence. It includes what belongs to universal and logical possibilities or impossibilities. But even impossibilities could not be known as such if they did not exist as such.” (Stout, God & Nature, 280) 

Chapter XVIII—“Idealism and the Universal Mind”

(I) The Idealist Doctrine that there can be no Unknown Being 

“Before turning to unity of interest, there is a problem with which we are now in a position to deal, of central significance in its bearing on the ultimate nature of the whole universe of being. In what precedes I have taken for granted that “formal being” is quite independent of being known within the unity of the mind-complex. This would only be denied by a solipsist who took himself for the sole self-complete being. But it is another question whether anything can have being which is unknown to any mind. This is the vital issue between idealists and their opponents. The idealist contends that unknown being is an impossible abstraction. When he attempts to realize in thought being separate from knowing, he finds the same sort of difficulty as he does in attempting to conceive knowing without anything known. It appears evident to him that absolutely unknown being is an abstraction which cannot subsist by itself. If this is not clear to others, he has ways and means of making them see it. He asks them to consider such entities as universals, possibilities, relations and forms of unity, the past as such and the future as such. Can these, he asks, be supposed to have being apart from any mind which conceives them? From the plain man and from everybody except the modern school of neo-realists he will get the answer which he expects. They will acknowledge that such entities, at least, are nothing apart from thinking minds. Only actual particulars, they will say, can have being without being known or thought of. Many philosophers, the nominalists and conceptualists, would add that only actual particulars can have a being which does not consist in being thought of. Only these have formal reality. Universals and possibilities are, in Locke’s language, “the work of the understanding”. They are, so to speak, merely devices framed by the mind in order to enable it to deal with particulars.” (Stout, God & Nature, 281-282) 

“At this point the idealist steps in and, as I should state his case, argues as follows: It is impossible to regard universals, relations and possibilities as superadded by the knowing mind to an independent reality which in itself is complete without them. On the contrary, the merely particular and actual is an impossible abstraction which cannot have being by itself. It cannot merely exist, it must have a nature. It must have a “whatness” as well as “thatness”. But if particulars have a nature, they must share a general nature. The only reason why we cannot know them except as belonging to sorts and kinds and classes, is that they cannot exist except as belonging to sorts and kinds and classes. It is true that our appreciation of the general nature of things is limited by the limitation of the knowledge and interest due to the conditions of finite existence. But the apprehension of particular existences is limited in the same way. Attention may select certain general aspects and certain particular existences rather than others. But to select is not to create. The same holds for possibilities. These are founded in the general nature of things. The universal has possible as well as actual instances. It holds still more obviously for relations. How could the knowing mind superinduce relations on an initial multiplicity of unrelated particulars? In order to do so, it is a logical precondition that it should first know them in their relation, and then, so to speak, weave a web of relations between them. But it is impossible to see how the relating process could begin. In knowing the absolutely disjointed items, knowledge would itself be split up into as many disjointed cognitions. There could be no unity of knowledge. For this consists of knowledge of unity, and cannot therefore exist where there is no unity to know.” (Stout, God & Nature, 282) 

(II) Two Forms of the Idealist View of the Relation between Knowing and Being, and the Neo-Realist’s Case Against Both 

“It follows that universals and their possible instances and relations belong to the constitution of the universe, just as truly as actually existing particulars. They must therefore be treated on the same footing as regards their dependence on knowledge or independence of it. Now the idealist takes it as an undeniable fact that universals, possibilities and relations owe their being to thought, or at least presuppose it. Hence he maintains that all being depends on a knowing mind, or at least presupposes it. Here there are two alternatives. The connexion may be treated as an essential correlation or interdependence, so that neither can be without the other. Or, again, it may be taken as one-sided dependence, so that the mind is regarded as creating its objects. Many, if not most, idealists seem to favor the second view. I cannot follow them; and if idealism means this, I am not an idealist. T.H. Green, for instance, does not question Locke’s position that universals and ideas of relation, and the possibilities which Locke calls ‘modes’, are the work of the understanding. What he insists on is that, if this be so, the same must be true of all being. But as the universe is plainly not the creation of a finite individual, it must ultimately be due to a universal mind. Hence Green infers that there must be an absolute spiritual principle of unity, which not only unites differences but creates them by its own self-differentiation. Fichte and (at least according to some of his interpreters) Hegel too, teach a similar doctrine.” (Stout, God & Nature, 283) 

“Let us now consider the position of the opponents and critics of both forms of the idealist view. We may take as its most adequate representative the modern school of neo-realists, or at least those of them who show a general understanding of the point at issue. These agree with the idealists that in relation to knowledge all forms of being are to be treated as on the same footing. But instead of holding that they are all equally inseparable from knowledge, they maintain the exact opposite. They maintain that, if there were no cognitive minds in existence, all forms of being might subsist unaltered, except of course the minds themselves, and facts about them. With this reservation they hold that it is quite indifferent to the being of universals and relations, as well as that of particulars, whether they are known to anyone or not. They say the same for possibilities and probabilities, unless indeed they quite unjustifiably regard them as due merely to the imperfection of our knowledge.” (Stout, God & Nature, 283-284)

“The neo-realist’s position is ultimately founded on the principle which we have already recognized as true, the principle that knowing cannot make or modify what is known. This excludes the possibility that the knowing mind in any way generates or produces its own objects. But it does not necessarily follow that anything can have being without being known. For that a further assumption is needed, which does indeed imply the general principle, but is not implied by it. This assumption is contained in the peculiar neo-realist theory of knowledge as an external relation between mutually exclusive entities—on the one side, the mind with its cognitive acts; on the other, what is known to it. On this view it is as absurd to say that nothing can exist unknown to any mind, as it would be to say that a pen cannot exist except when someone is holding it, or that an inkpot cannot exist except when it is placed on some desk. But I have already examined this theory at length, and found it untenable. If idealism is taken to mean that knowledge as such produces or generates what is known, I agree with the neo-realist in rejecting it. But I cannot accept his view that knowledge, being an external relation, it is ultimately accidental to being that it should be known. On the contrary, I am so far an idealist that for me knowing and being are inseparably united as ultimate and coessential aspects of the universe as a whole. Idealism, as thus defined, seems to be a necessary corollary of that view of the nature of knowledge which I reached in my last chapter. It follows from this position, as well as from that of the neo-realist, that knowledge does not produce or alter what is known.” (Stout, God & Nature, 284-285) 

(III) There Must Always Have Been Knowing Minds or a Knowing Mind

“If we set aside as untenable the external relation theory, it remains for us to consider how the ultimate question between idealism and neo-realism is affected by the general principle that knowledge cannot make or modify its objects. This principle, so far from affording support to neo-realism, seems to constitute the strongest ground for rejecting it, and for accepting instead the inseparable unity of knowledge and being in the ultimate constitution of the universe. When a finite individual comes to know what he did not know before, what he comes to know is not altered in any of the characters or relations which belongs to it as unknown. If any of these characters or relations were transformed in the process, he could not be said to know what he previously did not know, but something else instead. It follows that if knowledge does not pre-exist, there is no possible change or transformation of what does pre-exist by which it can become known.  No modification in the qualities of pre-existing beings in their relations or interactions, or the forms of unity in which they are combined will give the required result. In a universe of absolutely unknown being, nothing could change into a known being. It follows that since there are knowing minds now, there must always have been knowing minds, or at least one knowing mind.” (Stout, God & Nature, 285)

When a mind, M, comes to know a thing which it did not know before, what M comes to know is not altered or modified in any of the qualities or relations which belong to the thing as unknown to M. Why is this? It is so, because if any of the qualities or relations of the thing unknown to M were altered or modified in the transition from the thing’s being unknown to M into its being known to M, then the thing M comes to know would not be the thing which was previously unknown to M, but something different. It follows that no alterations or changes in the qualities and relations of what is unknown to any M could result in any M coming to know it. However, this entails that that in a universe where nothing is known to any M, no changes in the qualities or relations in those unknown beings could result in said unknown beings becoming known to any M. And since no alterations or modifications in the qualities and relations of unknown beings could result in said unknown beings becoming known to any M, it follows that in a universe where something is currently known to one or more M, there was never a time when nothing was known to one or more M in that universe. But in a universe wherein there was never a time when nothing was known to one or more M, it follows that there must always have been a knowing M, or at least one knowing M, in that universe. Therefore, since there is something currently known to one or more M in our universe, it follows that there must always have been a knowing M, or at least one knowing M, in our universe.