This work is excellent.
Picking this book as my next read, I went into it quite blind; I had only a vague idea of what it covered. The incredible insights I gained throughout its pages, together with the enjoyment I derived from them and from the writing style, which is clear and concise but far from dry, made it a truly rewarding reading experience.
The translation, done by F. L. Pogson, is very good. I would not be making an overstatement by saying that it is even impeccable. I read the English translation side by side with a French copy, under the original title of the doctoral dissertation, Essai sur les données immédiates de la conscience, and I have not a single objection to raise. This is only to be expected, since, as indicated in the translator’s preface, it was approved by Bergson himself.
Substance-wise, while I have quite a few disagreements with some of the points made, disagreements that might seem fatal considering that they are mostly concentrated in the assertions made in Chapter III, which Bergson himself explained is the main point of the book, with Chapters I and II serving, so to speak, as introductions to it and as the development of the tools necessary for him to make his argument, I still found much to be learned from it. There is much insight to be absorbed and a shift in perception that I assume will remain with me for a long time.
In Chapter I, Bergson attacks our tendency to treat qualitative states in the same way as we do quantitative ones. This concerns primarily our psychic states, such as joy and sorrow; aesthetic feelings, such as those concerning music, poetry, and art in general; our affective sensations, as he calls them, referring to things such as pain, pleasure, and disgust; and our representative sensations caused by external objects and related to muscular effort. He offers a thorough analysis in which he shows that the difference between these states is, upon deeper investigation, a qualitative difference, meaning that it is quite removed from measurement in the way that temperature or weight can be measured.
He shows how what we call wistfulness and deep sorrow are not simply the same state existing at different quantitative degrees of intensity, but rather distinct states altogether. He is willing to retain the word "intensity," but argues that what is actually involved is a qualitative difference, where one state continuously transforms or blends into another. As he shows in the next chapter, language itself is quite inadequate for expressing these states in their true form, since language is predisposed toward giving concepts rough and definable meanings, meanings that are removed from subjectivity and personal experience, and made impersonal so that they can be shared and used by everyone.
The same analysis applies, as I mentioned before, to aesthetic feelings. Here I must point out that even if one disagrees with what these exact qualitative changes are, as I do, I think his broader point that they are qualitative remains quite defensible. The same is true of simple sensations, where he gives a detailed explanation of how the muscular effort involved in experiencing weight does not simply increase in degree, but rather expands across a larger surface and changes in nature. Overall, the argument is quite well put together.
Chapter II is a decisive chapter, and I assume not only for this book but for Bergson’s philosophy as a whole.
Here, Bergson becomes quite technical, discussing the epistemological, mathematical, and physical theories of his time, and offering a minute analysis of our conception of multiplicity: how it is that we can even count, what succession really is, and what process gives rise to our idea of it. He also comments on the debate concerning the nature of space, a debate that had been ongoing since the days of Leibniz and Newton. He broadly sides with the Newtonian tradition, though more specifically with the distinctive transcendental position developed by Kant (Only with regard to the question of space. As you will find when reading this work, he believes Kant is mistaken about the spatio-temporal nature of our sensibility as presented in the Transcendental Aesthetic; rather, he argues that sensibility is fundamentally spatial, with the temporal aspect ultimately reducible to space.)
Bergson holds that space is indeed something “real", not merely a residue resulting from the countless relations and mutual limitations between physical objects. At the same time, he does not regard it as necessarily existing as an independent reality outside human experience. Rather, space (as we know it) is a precondition of human cognition, universal in its application yet (perhaps) uniquely anthropological in its origin. All of this serves as groundwork for highlighting how our conception of time, as we colloquially speak of it, is inherently spatial. Time as it is referred to in mechanics, astronomy, or even daily life is a spatial concept, quite removed from pure duration, from concrete time as experienced by consciousness itself. We lose sight of this due to our natural disposition toward abstraction, categorization, and the imposition of geometrical limits, as we seek clarity and precision at the expense of the confused but immediate reality of inner consciousness.
I would, of course, advise reading the work itself to grasp his ideas and arguments in their fullness. Any review can only filter them through its own interpretation and thus inevitably reduce the richness of his thesis. Bergson does not limit this analysis to duration alone, but extends it to motion as well, tying these ideas together and, as I alluded to earlier, explaining how social life, language itself, and abstraction contribute to a misguided conception of consciousness as it truly is. Only through a great effort of introspection, he argues, can we reveal the flux that is the true essence of the ego: the constant becoming, the melody as a melody, and not merely as the sum of its individual notes, the enduring consciousness.
(I would like to emphasize that Bergson is not arguing against the sciences. His critique of our conception of time is not a critique of the way physics is conducted, a distinction worth mentioning since I have seen this point misunderstood several times. In fact, he repeatedly acknowledges the correctness of scientific theories and recognizes their usefulness in describing the physical world and in aiding us in every facet of life.
Bergson’s contention is rather with these conceptions exceeding their proper limits and being applied to domains where they are unsuited, such as psychology, where they fail to capture, as I have mentioned, the indivisible, continuous and qualitative multiplicity that constitutes our consciousness.)
Chapter III is where he combines everything and provides his defence of free will by attempting to turn the chessboard itself on which defenders of free will and determinists have traditionally argued. Ultimately, I disagree with him, but it was my favourite chapter.
The linchpin of this roughly 80-page edifice is to be found in the first dozen pages, where he makes a perhaps subtle but decisive leap, the refutation of which, in my humble opinion, collapses all of his arguments.
Bergson identifies two kinds of determinism, physical and psychological. He then asserts that the former is reducible to the latter, spends about a dozen pages establishing this point, and then moves on to critique psychological determinism. There is much, much, much to be said about this critique, and he essentially spends the remaining 70 pages expounding it. However, I believe that we do not necessarily need to go there, because his treatment of physical determinism is wholly inadequate to establish his point, and thus it undermines almost everything he has to say afterward.
He begins with an analysis of physical determinism itself that is as good as any other, explaining how the mechanical molecular theory of matter, the principle of the conservation of energy, and indeed Newtonian physics as a whole point toward a deterministic reality. In the same way that these principles apply to rocks and trees, our organisms are also subject to these laws, including our neural systems and brain activity. Essentially, if a mathematician had complete knowledge of the position of every single atom and the forces they exert upon one another at any given point, they would be able to calculate and predict, infallibly, all subsequent movements and the next state in which reality, and the universe itself, would find itself.
Bergson then criticizes determinists for asserting that this determinism of material reality is applicable to the succession of psychic states, that is, to our enduring consciousness. He argues that the connection between neural activity and conscious states is far from clear, pointing out that the relation between our nervous system and consciousness remains obscure, rather than being the kind of straightforward and determinate relation that some claim it to be. Therefore, he argues that the conclusion determinists draw from this line of argument is stronger than what can and should be justified. Considering the state of science at the time he was writing his dissertation, and one might argue even today, where we have made enormous strides in exploring the close relation between, so to speak, our hardware and software, this is a fair point to raise.
However, Bergson admits that this is not enough for his thesis, since even granting that conscious activity can be independent, or semi-independent, from the biological reality of our bodies, it would only leave us with a very narrow sphere of freedom, one that is effectively irrelevant to the debate, since our physical movements and a large portion of our psychic states would still be predetermined by the laws of classical physics.
This point, by the way, stands even in light of the new discoveries in quantum physics and the new revelations in cosmology and general relativity, which have made it clear that classical physics is, in fact, an approximation, and that many of the supposedly infallible principles we once attributed to it do not apply in the way we thought they did.
Bergson thus attempts to reject the applicability of Newtonian physics, in the way it operates on lifeless matter, to living and especially conscious beings. For this, he relies on a kind of vitalism that science would not grant and that empirical evidence would appear to contradict. This point is indeed made in only a few paragraphs, without much elaboration, and this is only natural, since there is very little with which to work.
Now, there is a great deal to be said about the rest of the chapter, which contains many of the most enjoyable moments I had while reading this book, where his main arguments are developed. However, I believe that as long as this hurdle remains unsurmounted, determinism stands just as strong before the chapter as it does after it. Unfortunately, I might add.
Overall, I strongly recommend this book. It is written in such a way that even a layman like myself can understand and appreciate the points being made, while gaining significantly in knowledge from its insights.