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LUDWIK FLECK
Let us look from a short distance at Figure 1. What do we see? From the
black background the picture of a gray, wrinkled surface stands out. Some
places look like rough folds, others like densely arranged warts, one place
Fig. 1.
* Problemy, 1947.
129
R. S. Cohen and T Schnelle (eds.), Cognition and Fact - Materials on Ludwik Fleck, 129-151.
© 1986 by D. Reidel Publishing Company.
130 LUDWIK FLECK
AH Fig. 2.
7\AAA6 Fig. 3.
132 LUDWIK FLECK
since it does not pass across the arms; the form disappears, although no other
known form arises. When the arms are curved lines, then the cross-piece for
an A which widens upwards should lie high up near the top. When drawn near
the bottom, it spoils the form, even as it does not produce any known form.
In the case of an A which narrows upwards the cross-piece can be placed at a
low level without any damage to the form.
Fig. 4.
Each form possesses not only positive forms but also negative ones, viz.
a lack of certain fundamental features of the competing form: A must not
have a cedilla at the bottom end of the right arm, as otherwise our eyes will
see it as the (polish) letter 1\. Even slight thickening in the letter I changes it
to t or!' 0 is converted to 6 by a slight bend at the top.
Fig. 6.
TO LOOK, TO SEE, TO KNOW 133
in order to be able to discern a form, one also has to know the competing
forms. However, the limits of possible transpositions are determined not only
by the features of competing forms; there exist likewise certain limits dictated
by the characteristic style of the form itself, such as that convex A with a
cross-piece at the bottom, or an A with the cross-piece at the top. In the
letter E the middle line must not be longer than the top or bottom one (cf.
Figure 7), in the letter B the bottom loop may be larger than the top one, but
[E E- BBh' 33'J
Fig. 7.
must not be smaller, etc. Numerous changes of the secondary features, when
carried out together, likewise destroy the form, though each change by itself
is harmless. Thus the transposition of the form has its specific laws, and one
ought to have at least an intuition of these laws, if not clear knowledge of
them.
Acquaintance with the form gives rise to disposition of its perception
(perception readiness), the intensity of which varies from one human to
another, depending, inter alia, on the degree of education in the relevant
field. If the form is surrounded by competing forms (context), the disposition
is enhanced, and one recognizes the form more easily; the range of possible
transpositions is greater, and we complete the gaps more easily (cf. Figure 8).
jJ()S ,"/\C
I
The context becomes a superior form which increases our readiness to see
inferior forms; however it can result in such an excessive readiness that we
complete non-existent details of the inferior forms, or even entire missing
inferior forms. In such a case the superior form competes with the inferior
one: we see words without seeing the letters. This is known to proof-readers
who concentrate on watching the letters and only some features of words,
134 LUDWIK FLECK
which enhance their readiness to see the letters. However, these are more
complex problems as, e.g. it is more difficult to read a proof of texts in a
foreign language, in which words do not form known forms, much as a
proof-reader in principle does not attempt to fully recognize the words of the
text, even in his mother tongue.
At any rate, in order to see, one has first to know a lot about the funda-
mental features of the form; everything else is inessential. Thus, what are the
competing forms, what are the negative features of the form watched, what
are the possibilities of transposition? In order to see a rare form, one has to
know to which context it belongs.
Yet it is rather an odd thing that, once we have learned to see a form, we
can - moreover, 'we ought to' - forget a large part of this knowledge. One
has to know how, but there is no longer a need to know. The child, when
learning the alphabet, strenuously acquires knowledge a large part of which
the adult has to forget. We forget that the upper loop of the letter B must not
be larger than the bottom one, but that the vice-versa rule is not obligatory;
that the middle line of letter E must not be longer than the bottom line, etc.
We develop our handwriting in various situations, by comparing with the
handwriting of other people, and by avoiding misunderstandings and conflicts.
We write, having forgotten the principles of calligraphy, we immediately
recognize the letter in the entire scale of transposition possibilities without
analysing the details, without up-to-date knowledge of the details. In the
course of frequent use, from vigorous knowledge comes the know-how and
the direct readiness to perceive the letter, which appears as soon as the
situation produces a suitable stimulus. As a matter of fact, we see the form as
a whole which can become the element of further superior forms, only when
we forget, at least to a large extent, its elements and structure. If not, we do
not see the forest for the trees, and syllables make it impossible for us to
recognize words and sentences.
To see, one has first to know, and then to know how, and to forget part
of the knowledge. One has to acquire a directed readiness to see.
II. WE LOOK WITH OUR OWN EYES, WE SEE WITH THE EYES OF
A COLLECTIVE BODY
We walk around without seeing any points, lines, angles, light or shadows,
from which we would have to arrange 'what is this' by synthesis or reasoning,
but we see at once a house, a memorial in a square, a detachment of soldiers,
a bookshop window, a group of children, a lady with a dog. all of them
ready forms.
There exist more distinct forms, e.g. a house, a detachment of soldiers,
TO LOOK, TO SEE, TO KNOW 135
Fig. 9.
and the less distinct ones, e.g. 'lady with a dog'. Is this an entirety, a distinct
form? A certain connection between both elements of this pair already exists
in the existence of a leash itself or in the moving of the dog round its mistress,
but this connection is weak and, much as we had immediately spotted 'a
lady with the dog', and not 'lady' and 'dog' - this whole is yet so faintly
distinct as to cover its component elements considerably less than e.g. 'the
detachment of soldiers' in which we simply do not distinguish among the
separate soldiers. A huntsman with a dog would, to the initiated observer,
present a whole that is more clear-cut, since, as a 'set', it represents a certain
activity which is carried out in a body. We know a lot about this activity,
hence our readiness to see this form as a whole. A horseman on horseback,
especially a cavalry man in uniform or a jockey in a characteristic attire, for
Fig. 10.
136 LUDWIK FLECK
this reason gives us a form which is even more distinct. If we see a horseless
jockey, we are likely to feel that this is only a part of something, that some-
thing is missing. A horseman - this is a well-known form, which we have seen
many times, and about which we have heard and read quite a lot, so that
the readiness to see this form is very strong. It appears to be clear that the
distinctness of a form, much as this form is seen by the eyes of a single
person, arises in these cases from sources beyond the individual person; from
the opinion of the general public, from the prevailing habit of thinking. A
form is constructed not from 'objective physical elements' but from cultural
and historical themes.
A pencil and a note, if they simply lie beside one another, do not form a
whole: we see two elements separately (cf. Figure 11). However, a note in
Fig. 11.
step?' - 'How can one disregard the laws of nature which manifest themselves
in every phenomenon?'
What is our behaviour when for the first time we face an object which
is unknown to us? Just as a child does when watching a smeared ink-blot.
He sees in it a wing of a bird, leaves of a tree , a flower , two horses grown
together, an angel, in other words forms known from other sources. These
forms mutually displace themselves, they disappear, make room for one
another, vary, oscillate .
This is a very interesting problem, and it is possible to follow exactly the
formation of specific forms, e.g. by checking the drawings and descriptions
of the first anatomists or the first bacteriologists. Figure 13 presents an
Fig. 13 .
anatomical figure from the 15th century. Its author was unable to see the
characteristic form produced by the intestinal system in the abdominal
cavity, which is today known to everyone with a secondary education. He
saw not these characteristic twists, but only the 'twisting in general' , and into
the oscillating blob he inserted the forms which came most easily to his head:
5 helices. He without any doubt saw them immediately in the abdomen. The
ribs, the thorax he did not see as 12 characteristically bent lines, but as
ribbing in general', and he drew 17 parallel lines because he saw this 'ribbing'
140 LUDWIK FLECK
form, and not the 12 ribs. In the earliest descriptions of organs, e.g. bones,
we find a wealth of comparisons with different known forms: bird's bill,
plough, sword, stirrup, letter S etc. These comparisons were preserved in the
names. coracoid (raven-like) process, Siebbeiri [sieve bone] (ethmoidal bone),
vomer (Pj7ugscharbein = ploughshare) etc. Often more than one comparison
was stressed, and the controversy lasted quite a time as to which form best
corresponds to the shape of the given organ. During this controversy, in a
really collective work, a new form was formed, i.e. a discovery was made.
The anatomists learn to see the characteristic organs exactly in the same way
as children learn to see letters.
In the 19th century an entire new world was created under the microscope.
As far as the form of the single cells, the protozoa, is concerned, the compari-
son is easy, since they recall simple geometrical forms: rods, spheres, spirals.
However, if we have to describe group forms, a specific system evolving from
the propagation of bacteria, the problem becomes much more difficult, since
one had to learn how to see forms very different from those met with in
everyday life. We can keep track from the outset, as the pictures oscillated,
as observers saw various fantastic forms of everyday life mutually displacing
one another, as the picture established itself, as the number of comparisons
decreased almost yearly, from one author to another, and as, during discus-
sions and mutual correctives, there arose a new form, so distinct that it itself
became a pattern sanctioned by the collective body, a pattern that was later
made use of in seeing the successively appearing new forms. The role of the
group life, i.e. of the collective body, is clear: from the store of traditional,
generally admitted forms, one derives in the first place those mutually dis-
placing resemblances; and then the collective life produces among these
oscillating possibilities a novel prescribed form, which is then fixed and
pressed upon the individual person. The collective experience and custom
determine which feature is fundamental and what can be variable, and how
far this variability can extend. The sociological forces give rise to that above-
mentioned readiness of perception. Within every member of the society a
slightly different form is instilled, and the range of these dissimilarities
determines the entire extent of possible transpositions.
If our seeing had not been of the form-perceiving type, who knows whether
abstract concepts would have arisen, or whether generalization and, in general,
knowledge would have been possible.
TO LOOK, TO SEE, TO KNOW 141
Fig. 14.
142 LUDWIK FLECK
Yet not everybody admits that virtually every seeing is of the form-perceiving
type and that virtually every form is conditioned by collective life and by
the collective thought-style. Many representatives of sciences still using the
thought-style of classical physics, affirm that it is possible to conduct a so-
called 'objective observation' of an isolated elementary fact, independent
of the psychologically or sociologically conditioned readiness to see the less
or more 'subjective forms'. That, with the aid of suitable apparatus, it is
possible to measure the phenomena of the 'external world' completely
regardless of our thinking style. That it is possible to describe an observed
figure without comparing it with forms chosen from the store-house of
knowledge, simply by examining the coordinates of the successive points in
its outline in an optional conventional system. An American sees a heap of
rubble, a Varsovian - a house. Now a physicist will determine by means of
apparatus the position and size of every brick, and will reproduce a whole
which will be neither a 'house form' nor 'a form of a rubble heap', but an
objective description of observations, a map of objects which are independent
of ourselves.
In such opinions of some physicists one finds a wealth of illusions and
misunderstandings characteristics of their style of thinking.
In the first place it is impossible to isolate the object of observation
from the thought-style. Our physicist (Figure 15) stands with his apparatus
in front of a house - a heap of rubble. In what place does he begin? Not in
any defined place. Single bricks lie around, their fragments, their waste, dust
from the mortar, sand. All this extends even beyond the tree which grows in
the pavement in front. There is no sharp limit; the phYSicist is to establish
it artificially; he has also to decide whether this tree and the crow which sits
on the rubble, do or do not belong to what he has to measure objectively.
It is impossible to isolate the object of observation without assuming in
advance that it possesses certain features. This is admitted by some modern
physicists, e.g Bohr: "Even the observation concept itself contains an
option since it depends in principle on what objects are reckoned among the
observed system". However, they do not see that this apparent arbitrariness
is a necessity imposed by a specific thought-style: the physicist stands in
front of this heap, like· a child in front of an ink-blot, and sees in advance in
it the angles and flowers of his scientific style. It is impossible to isolate any
element, regardless of the traditional thought-style created by the society
to which he belongs. The point is that the process of analysing and isolating
TO LOOK, TO SEE, TO KNOW 143
Fig. 15.
the elements does not differ in anyway from the process of producing new
forms from the decomposed old parts. In substance it means that the number
of negative features increases, while that of the positive features decreases as
one passes from earlier forms to the new ones.
Next the physicist takes the stones, bricks, fragments, and weighs one
after another, in order to classify them objectively and to write corresponding
figures in the corresponding places of the map. This appears to be a simple
action and is clear almost to all the members of European culure. However,
one has to realize that, in its current popular-physical meaning, weight is a
relatively young concept. True, it was known to a certain extent in antiquity
(Aristotle distinguished between heavy and light bodies), but even in the
18th and in the 19th century many educated people did affirm that, e.g., a
corpse is considerably heavier than the man when he was still alive. Why, it is
because it is heavier to lift it, because it 'drops from the hands'. Similarly, a
hungry man is heavier than a satiated one (provided not excessively so!),
because it is 'heavy' to move. That sorrow makes a man heavier, and gaiety -
lighter in weight. In the figurative uses of the word 'heavy' as used nowadays
144 LUDWIK FLECK
(a heavy fate, a heavy task, a heavy road) one still finds this 'appropriation'
of weight. When a physicist uses a balance, this means that the collective body
of physicists had isolated, in the course of history, certain elements from
among the set of phenomena, impressions, concepts and old opinions, and has
developed them up to a consistent whole, while rejecting the remainder.
The use of an apparatus is always the expression of applying a certain
developed thought-style. It would have been difficult to convince a man who
does not use, at least partly, a physical style of thinking that weighing on our
balances is an operation which has a certain connection with the 'weight'
or that it does not influence the 'weight'. The scientific apparatus directs
thinking towards the path of the scientific style of thinking: it produces a
readiness to see certain forms, while removing at the same time the possibility
of seeing others. There exists no analogy between carrying a heavy stone
and carrying a heavy sorrow, and it cannot exist for a physicist or, strictly
speaking, for a physical style of thinking. Similarly there exists, for a phy-
sicist, no analogy between high tones and yellow color and between low
tones and blue color, much as psychology ascertains that almost everybody
feels this directly. The point is that physics does not consist in analysing all
sensory statements which are binding for normal people, and in constructing
the world from the experienced basic general elements; rather it is a system
given by the historic development of the thought-style of the complete
collective body which maintains contact between its members over centuries.
Since physicists also participate in other aspects of the collective life of their
epochs, no wonder that their 'objective' opinions contain, in each epoch,
features which are characteristic of the intellectual life of that epoch, as
stressed with surprise by SchrOdinger. Today, statistics and the calculus of
probability dominate physics, biology, immunology, economy, sociology etc.,
such being the intellectual fashion. Not long ago, all sciences and technology
were under the sign of [strict determinist] mechanics.
Let us revert to our physicist and our heap of rubble. He would have to
carry out an infinite number of measurements, as he would have to measure
separately each dust particle and each point. Of course this is impossible.
On his map the physicist will denote only the 'main' points, and he will fill
in, making use of some general principle. Now how is one to know which
points are the main ones and what principle is to be used? Again solely on
the basis of a defmite thought-style and on the basis of the entire store of
knowledge at our disposal at the present moment. For every phenomenon
we would need, strictly speaking, an infinite number of measurements,
provided we did not assume in advance the rule of interpolating the values
TO LOOK, TO SEE, TO KNOW 145
Fig. 17. A lady shackles the hands of her lover (a 14th-century drawing). The horse
has the size of a dog, the castle is like a sentry box. The artist has shown a series of
separate forms: horse, lady, castle, a head in the window - just as if he had seen this
scene.