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If particulars and individuals are thus distinguished, it is by no means clear that only particulars exist, or indeed that they exist at all; it could be that they are no more than abstract aspects of genuinely concrete entities such as persons or material things. But there are arguments on the other side, advanced in a variety of forms by David Hume and Bertrand Russell. Hume believed that the ultimate constituents of the world were either impressions or their fainter copies, ideas; both were species of perceptions. Impressions he defined as “internal and perishing existences”; they were of various kinds, embracing feelings as well as such things as experienced colours and smells, but all were at best extremely short-lived. Impressions arose in human consciousness from unknown causes; their existence could not, however, be denied. By contrast, the existence of continuing and independent material objects and of continuing minds was extremely precarious; analysis showed both to be no more than bundles of perceptions, united by certain relations, and Hume more than once referred to them as “fictions,” although it turned out on examination that they were not fictions in the way ghosts are. Hume’s reasons for advancing these views were primarily epistemological; he thought that statements about continuants were all open to doubt, although statements about the contents of immediate experience could not be challenged. When it was a question of what really existed, the only sure answer was items in consciousness—namely, impressions and ideas.

Russell, who was generally sympathetic to this answer, added another argument derived from logic: proper names, he said, were names of particulars, which must accordingly exist. Ordinary proper names (such as “Socrates”) had other functions than to denote, but logically proper names (“this” was Russell’s example) served simply to pick out objects of immediate acquaintance. Russell was apparently unabashed by the consequence that such objects would be both private to the experience of particular persons and of very brief duration; he thought his doctrine of “logical constructions,” which allowed for “inferred entities” on the basis of what is immediately certain, would provide the publicity and continuity necessary to do justice to actual experience. These assumptions, however, have met with serious criticism. P.F. Strawson, a British philosopher whose thought centres on the analysis of the structure of ordinary language, especially in his Individuals: An Essay in Descriptive Metaphysics (1959), not only attacked Russell’s account of proper names but argued that experience demands a framework of basic particulars that are not Russell’s momentary private objects but continuing public existents—in fact, individuals in the terminology explained above. If experience consisted of nothing but sounds, the minimum prerequisite of intelligibility would be that there should be a continuing master sound, an analogue in this medium of continuing material substance in the material order. Without such basic particulars as continuing material things, identification and reidentification would be impossible. Strawson conceded that persons as well as things were genuine continuants, but maintained all the same that the hypothesis that reality might consist of nothing but minds was quite untenable. Minds are no more than aspects of persons, and persons have bodies as well as minds. Strawson agreed that disembodied existence was logically possible, but added that such existence would make no sense except as a survival of embodied existence in a common public world.

If this is correct, what exists cannot consist, as Hume supposed, of momentary items but must rather take the form of substances in the Aristotelian sense. These act as basic particulars in the actual intellectual scheme men adopt. Strawson, however, was not content merely to assert this fact; he wanted to argue that things must be like this if reference and description in their familiar form are to be possible at all. His main theory, which plainly owes a debt to Kant as well as to Wittgenstein, was worked out with primary reference to the physical world. It would be interesting to know if an examination of social reality would yield comparable results: whether individual persons or something larger—continuing societies or institutions—should be taken as basic particulars in that sphere. Many philosophers assert dogmatically that a society is nothing but an aggregate of its individual members. Nevertheless, men are members of society in virtue of their performance of a number of social roles, and role itself is a concept that makes sense only if the notion of society is presupposed. In one sense, a society is nothing apart from its members; remove them, and it would disappear. Equally, however, the members themselves are what they are because of their various roles; it is arguable that they would be nothing apart from their social relations. Hence, the force of Bradley’s remark is evident, namely, that “the ‘individual’ apart from the community is not anything real.”

It remains to add here that a number of philosophers have tried to argue that the basic items in reality should be described not as substances but in some other terms. Russell at one stage in his career spoke of the world as consisting of events; his former colleague A.N. Whitehead made the notion of process central in his metaphysics. Developments in modern physics undoubtedly lend a certain plausibility to these and similar views. Yet it remains difficult to understand what an event could be in which nothing was concerned, or how there could be a process in which nothing was in process. Event and process, in fact, are expressions that belong to derivative categories in the general Aristotelian scheme; like all other categories, they depend on the category of substance. If the latter is removed, as these metaphysicians propose to remove it, it is hard to know what is left. The existence of God

Perhaps the most celebrated issue in classical metaphysics concerned the existence of God. God in this connection is the name of “the perfect Being” or “the most real of all things”; the question is whether it is necessary to recognize the existence of such a being as well as of things that either are or might be objects of everyday experience. A number of famous arguments have been advanced from the time of the Greeks in favour of the thesis that such a recognition is necessary. The neatest and most ingenious was the a priori argument of St. Anselm in the 11th century, who said that “that than which nothing greater can be conceived” must exist in fact as well as in thought, for if it existed only in thought and not in fact, something greater than it could be conceived, namely the same thing existing in fact. God necessarily exists, because the idea of God is the idea of that than which nothing greater can be conceived. This is the argument later known as the ontological proof. Relatively few philosophical theologians, either in the Middle Ages or later, could bring themselves to accept this bold piece of reasoning (although Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz, and Hegel all accepted it in principle); most preferred to ground their case for God’s existence on premises that claimed to be empirical. Thus, St. Thomas Aquinas, perhaps the most influential Scholastic philosopher, in the 13th century argued that to explain the fact of motion in the world, the existence of a prime mover must be presupposed; that to account for contingent or dependent being the existence of something that is necessary or self-contained must be presumed; that to see why the world is orderly and why the different things in it fit together harmoniously, a situation that might not have obtained, a Creator who fashioned it on these lines must be postulated—adding in each case “and this all men call ‘God’.” These are versions of the first cause argument and the argument from design, which were to figure prominently in the thinking of later theistically inclined metaphysicians.