The italicized passage below is part of a well-known passage in William James's Principles of Psychology.
He is discussing the idea of consciousness as mental chemistry, whereby ideas considered as atoms, or as specks of mind dust, can be said to combine into larger compounds, complicated systems of thought and conclusion. To the believers in such a mental chemistry, the brain is a sort of petri dish where these combinations take place, but the brain doesn't make the connections, it simply allows them.
The underlying system of thought, which owed something to Leibniz' monadology, was expounded in earnest by some now mostly forgotten figures such as Adolf Fick and Hippolyte Taine. James credits (?) Fick with being the first to argue clearly that (in James' paraphrase) "bits of mind-stuff [grow] into distinctly sensible feelings," and perhaps by extension into the whole of a mind.
So James comes to express in the following striking manner, why this idea seems so odd.
"Take a sentence of a dozen words and take twelve men and tell to each one word. Then stand the men in a row or jam them in a bunch and let each think of his word as intently as he will; nowhere will there be a consciousness of the whole sentence."
Indeed. The compound sentence exists nowhere, in that situation. Of course, they could each shout out their one word in the proper order and then each would recognize it as a sentence. But unless someone told them what order to shout in, it is only by a very odd happenstance that this turns out to be the right sentence.
And even if it does, it in that case is being presented to the twelve minds through their twelve brains and the attached sensory equipment. That is a synthesizing of data by a mind, not any contribution to the creation of a mind through the compounding of data.
So: James was taking on a bad idea, and since the bad idea is no longer prevalent amongst us, we tend to see James' whole chapter on this subject as an oddity, even if in some passages strikingly expressed. Is there any other reason why this is even worth a blog post in 2023?
Yes: and it will occupy us tomorrow. It involves another old friend of this blog: Herbert Spencer. In the Anglosphere, Spencer is a larger name with which to conjure spirits than either Fick or Taine.
[By the way, that is Taine portrayed above.]
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