“The World of Perception and the World of Science”
The world of perception, or in other words the world
which is revealed to us by our senses and in everyday life,
seems at first sight to be the one we know best of all. For we
need neither to measure nor to calculate in order to gain access
to this world and it would seem that we can fathom it simply
by opening our eyes and getting on with our lives. Yet this is
a delusion. In these lectures, I hope to show that the world of
perception is, to a great extent, unknown territory as long as
we remain in the practical or utilitarian attitude. I shall suggest
that much time and effort, as well as culture, have been needed
in order to lay this world bare and that one of the great
achievements of modern art and philosophy (that is, the art
and philosophy of the last fifty to seventy years) has been to
allow us to rediscover the world in which we live, yet which we
are always prone to forget.
This temptation is particularly strong in France. It is characteristic
not just of French philosophy but also of what is
rather loosely termed the French cast of mind to hold science
and knowledge in such high esteem that all our lived experience
of the world seems by contrast to be of little value. If I
want to know what light is, surely I should ask a physicist; is
it not he who can tell me what light really is? Is light, as was
once thought, a stream of burning projectiles, or, as others
have argued, vibrations in the ether? Or is it, as a more recent
theory maintains, a phenomenon that can be classed alongside
other forms of electromagnetic radiation? What good would
it do to consult our senses on this matter? Why should we
linger over what our perception tells us about colours, reflections
and the objects which bear such properties? For it seems
that these are almost certainly no more than appearances: only
the methodical investigations of a scientist – his measurements
and experiments – can set us free from the delusions of
our senses and allow us to gain access to things as they really
are. Surely the advancement of knowledge has consisted precisely
in our forgetting what our senses tell us when we consult
them naïvely. Surely there is no place for such data in a picture
of the world as it really is, except insofar as they indicate
peculiarities of our human make-up, ones which physiology
will, one day, take account of, just as it has already managed to
the world of perception explain the illusions of long- and short-
sightedness. The real world is not this world of light and colour;
it is not the fleshy spectacle which passes before my eyes. It consists,
rather, of the waves and particles which science tells us lie behind
these sensory illusions.
Descartes went as far as to say that simply by scrutinizing
sensory objects and without referring to the results of scientific
investigations, I am able to discover that my senses deceive
me and I learn accordingly to trust only my intellect.1 I claim
to see a piece of wax. Yet what exactly is this wax? It is by no
means its colour, white, nor, if it has retained this, its floral
scent, nor its softness to my touch, nor indeed the dull thud
which it makes when I drop it. Not one of these properties is
constitutive of the wax because it can lose them all without
ceasing to exist, for example if I melt it, whereupon it changes
into a colourless liquid which has no discernible scent and
which is no longer resistant to my touch. Yet I maintain that
this is still the same wax. So how should this claim be understood?
What persists through this change of state is simply a
piece of matter which has no properties, or, at most, a certain
capacity to occupy space and take on different shapes, without
either the particular space filled or the shape adopted being in
any way predetermined. This then is the real and unchanging
essence of the wax. It will be clear that the true nature of the
wax is not revealed to my senses alone, for they only ever present
me with objects of particular sizes and shapes. So I cannot
see the wax as it really is with my own eyes; the reality of the
wax can only be conceived in the intellect. When I assume I
am seeing the wax, all I am really doing is thinking back from
the properties which appear before my senses to the wax in its
naked reality, the wax which, though it lacks properties in
itself, is nonetheless the source of all the properties which
manifest themselves to me. Thus for Descartes – and this idea
has long held sway in the French philosophical tradition – perception
is no more than the confused beginnings of scientific
knowledge. The relationship between perception and scientific
knowledge is one of appearance to reality. It befits our human
dignity to entrust ourselves to the intellect, which alone can
reveal to us the reality of the world.
When I said, a moment ago, that modern art and philosophy
have rehabilitated perception and the world as we perceive
it, I did not, of course, mean to imply that they deny the value
of science, either as a means of technological advancement, or
insofar as it offers an object lesson in precision and truth. If we
wish to learn how to prove something, to conduct a thorough
investigation or to be critical of ourselves and our preconceptions,
it remains appropriate, now as then, that we turn to
science. It was a good thing that we once expected science to
the world of perception provide all the answers at a time when
it had still to come into being. The question which modern
philosophy asks in relation to science is not intended either to
contest its right to exist or to close off any particular avenue to
its inquiries. Rather, the question is whether science does, or
ever could, present us with a picture of the world which is complete,
self-sufficient and somehow closed in upon itself, such that there
could no longer be any meaningful questions outside this picture.
It is not a matter of denying or limiting the extent of scientific knowledge,
but rather of establishing whether it is entitled to deny or
rule out as illusory all forms of inquiry that do not start out
from measurements and comparisons and, by connecting particular
causes with particular consequences, end up with laws
such as those of classical physics. This question is asked not
out of hostility to science. Far from it: in fact, it is science
itself – particularly in its most recent developments – which
forces us to ask this question and which encourages us to
answer in the negative.
Since the end of the nineteenth century, scientists have got
used to the idea that their laws and theories do not provide a
perfect image of Nature but must rather be considered ever
simpler schematic representations of natural events, destined
to be honed by increasingly minute investigations; or, in other
words, these laws and theories constitute knowledge by
approximation. Science subjects the data of our experience to
a form of analysis that we can never expect will be completed
since there are no intrinsic limits to the process of observation:
we could always envisage that it might be more thorough or
more exact than it is at any given moment. The mission of science
is to undertake an interminable elucidation of the
concrete or sensible, from which it follows that the concrete or
sensible can no longer be viewed, as in the classical paradigm,
as a mere appearance destined to be surpassed by scientific
thought. The data of perception and, more generally, the
events which comprise the history of the world, cannot be
deduced from a certain number of laws which supposedly
make up the unchanging face of the universe. On the contrary,
it is the scientific law that is an approximate expression of the
physical event and which allows this event to retain its opacity.
The scientist of today, unlike his predecessor working within
the classical paradigm, no longer cherishes the illusion that he
is penetrating to the heart of things, to the object as it is in
itself. The physics of relativity confirms that absolute and
final objectivity is a mere dream by showing how each particular
observation is strictly linked to the location of the
observer and cannot be abstracted from this particular situation;
it also rejects the notion of an absolute observer. We can
no longer flatter ourselves with the idea that, in science, the
the world of perception exercise of a pure and unsituated intellect
can allow us to gain access to an object free of all human traces,
just as God would see it. This does not make the need for scientific
research any less pressing; in fact, the only thing under attack is
the dogmatism of a science that thinks itself capable of absolute and
complete knowledge. We are simply doing justice to each of
the variety of elements in human experience and, in particular,
to sensory perception.
While science and the philosophy of science have, as we
have seen, been preparing the ground for an exploration of the
world as we perceive it, painting, poetry and philosophy have
forged ahead boldly by presenting us with a very new and
characteristically contemporary vision of objects, space, animals
and even of human beings seen from the outside, just as
they appear in our perceptual field. In forthcoming lectures I
shall describe some of what we have learned in the course of
these investigations.
Maurice Merleau-Ponty
The World of Perception
Lecture 1