The Message in the Bottle and Lost in the Cosmos

by Walker Percy

  (b) The posture of the castaway. The reader of the sentences may or may not be an objective-minded man. But at the moment of finding the bottle on the beach he is, we will say, very far from being objective-minded. He is a man who finds himself in a certain situation. To say this is practically equivalent, life being what it is, to saying that he finds himself in a certain predicament. Let us say his predicament is a simple organic need. He is thirsty. In his predicament the sentence about the water is received not as a datum from which, along with similar data, more general scientific conclusions might be drawn. Nor is it received as stating a universal human experience, even though the announcement were composed by Shakespeare at the height of his powers. The sentence is received as news, news strictly relevant to the predicament in which the hearer of the news finds himself.

  So with other kinds of news, ranging from news relevant to the most elementary organic predicament to news of complex cultural significance.

  Here are some other examples of news and their attending contexts.

  Mackerel here!

  (Malinowski’s Trobriand Island fisherman announcing a strike to his fellows)

  Jane is home!

  (I love Jane and she has been away)

  The market is up $2.00.

  (I am in the market)

  The British are coming!

  (I am a Minute Man. The context here is not organic but cultural. I thrive under British rule but I throw in my lot with the Revolution for patriotic reasons)

  The light has turned green!

  (I have stopped at a red light)

  Eisenhower is elected!

  (I voted for Stevenson)

  News sentences, in short, are drawn from the context of everyday life and indeed to a large extent comprise this context.

  Insofar as a man is objective-minded, no sentence is significant as a piece of news. For in order to be objective-minded one must stand outside and over against the world as its knower in one mode or another. As empirical scientists themselves have noticed, one condition of the practice of the objective method of the sciences is the exclusion of oneself from the world of objects one studies.* The absent-minded professor, the inspired poet, the Vedic mystic, is indifferent to news, sometimes even news of high relevance for him, because he is in a very real sense “out of this world.”†

  In summary, the hearer of news is a man who finds himself in a predicament. News is precisely that communication which has bearing on his predicament and is therefore good or bad news.

  The question arises as to whether news is not the same thing as a sign for an organism, a sign directing him to appropriate need-satisfactions, like the buzzer to Pavlov’s dog, or warning him of a threat, like the lion’s scent to a deer. The organism experiences needs and drives and learns to respond to those signs in its environment which indicate the presence of food, opposite sex, danger, and so on.

  This may very well be a fair appraisal of the status of the news we are talking about here—providing the notions of “organism” and “sign” be allowed sufficiently broad interpretation. For the organism we speak of here is not only the physiological mechanism of the body but the encultured creature, the economic creature, and so on. The sign we speak of here is not merely the environmental element; it is the sentence, the symbolic assertion made by one man and understood by another.

  The scientist—I use the word in the broadest possible sense to include philosophers and artists as well as positive scientists—has abstracted from his own predicament in order to achieve objectivity.* His objectivity is indeed nothing else than his removal from his own concrete situation. No sentence can be received by him as a piece of news, therefore, because he does not stand in the way of hearing news.

  (3) The Scale of Significance

  The scale of significance by which the scientist evaluates the sentences in the bottles may be said to range from the particular to the general. The movement of science is toward unity through abstraction, toward formulae and principles which embrace an ever greater number of particular instances. Thus the sentence “Hydrogen and oxygen combine in the ratio of two to one to form water” is a general statement covering a large number of particular cases. But Mendeleev’s law of periodicity covers not merely water but all other cases of chemical combination. A theory of gravitation and a theory of radiation are conceived at very high levels of abstraction. But a unified field theory which unites the two occurs at an even higher level.

  The scale of significance by which the castaway evaluates news is its relevance for his own predicament. The significance of a piece of knowledge is abstracted altogether from the concrete circumstances which attended the discovery of the knowledge, its verification, its hearing by others. The relationship of Mendeleev’s law of periodicity to Lavoisier’s discovery of the composition of water is a relation sub specie aeternitatis. Its significance in no way depends upon Lavoisier’s or Mendeleev’s circumstance in life or on the circumstance of him who hears it.

  But in judging the significance of a piece of news, everything depends on the situation of the hearer. The question is not merely, What is the nature of the news? but, Who is the hearer? If a man has lost his way in a cave and hears the cry “Come! This way out!” the communication qualifies as news of high significance. But if another man has for reasons of his own come to the cave to spend the rest of his life, the announcement will be of no significance. To a man dying of thirst the news of diamonds over the next dune is of no significance. But the news of water is.

  The abstraction of the scientist from the affairs of life may be so great that he even ignores news of the highest relevance for his own predicament. When a friend approached Archimedes and announced, “Archimedes, the soldiers of Marcellus are coming to kill you,” Archimedes remained indifferent. He attributed no significance to a contingent piece of news in comparison with the significance of his geometrical deductions. In so doing it may be that he acted as an admirable martyr for science or it may be that he acted foolishly. All that we are concerned here to notice are the traits of objectivity.

  The castaway, on the other hand, can only take account of knowledge sub specie aeternitatis if it is significant also as news. If his island stands to win international honor providing one of its scientists discovers the secret of atomic energy, or if indeed such a discovery means survival, then the announcement of his scientist friend

  E =MC2!

  is news of the highest significance.

  In summary, the scale of significance by which one judges sentences expressing knowledge sub specie aeternitatis is the scientific scale of particular-general. The scale of significance by which a castaway evaluates the news in the bottle is the degree of relevance for his own predicament.

  (4) Canons of Acceptance

  The operation of acceptance of a piece of knowledge sub specie aeternitatis is synonymous with the procedure of verification.

  We need not review the verification procedures of formal logic or positive science. The truth of analytic sentences is demonstrated by a disclosure of the deductive process by which they are inferred. The truth or probability of synthetic sentences is demonstrated by a physical operation repeatable by others.

  What about the verification procedures of our other “scientific” sentences, those of psychoanalysts, artists, philosophers, et al.? For example, a neurotic physicist is able to verify the suggestion of his analyst that his dream symbol means such and such, and to do so without resorting to a physical operation. These and other such sentences, I suggest, are verifiable not experimentally but experientially by the hearer on the basis of his own experience or reflection. These sentences

  Your dream symbol, house and balcony, represents a woman.

  The whole is greater than the part.

  We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep

  can only be verified (or rejected) by the immediate assent or assent after reflection of him who hears, on the basis of his own ex
perience.

  The criteria of acceptance of a news sentence are not the same as those of a knowledge sentence. This is not a pejorative judgment. To say this is not to say that news is of a lower cognitive order than knowledge—such a judgment presupposes the superiority of the scientific posture. It is only to say that once a piece of news is subject to the verification procedures of a piece of knowledge, it simply ceases to be news.

  If I am thirsty and you appear on the next sand dune and shout, “Come with me! I know where water is!” it is not open to me to apply any of the verification procedures mentioned above, experimental operations, deduction, or interior recognition and assent to the truth of your statement. A piece of news is neither deducible, repeatable, or otherwise confirmable at the point of hearing.

  You may deny this, saying that the thirsty man is not really different from the scientist: The only way to verify a report in either case is to go and see for yourself. Very true! But what we are concerned with is not the act, going and seeing for yourself, as a verification procedure, but how one decides to heed the initial “Come!” The scientist does not need to heed the “Come!” For he does not have to come. He is in no predicament whatever and any knowledge that he might wish to arrive at can be arrived at anywhere and at any time and by anyone. Whatever he wants to find out can be found out in his laboratory, on his field trip, in his studio, on his grass mat.

  But the castaway must act by a canon of acceptance which is usable prior to the procedure of verification. He is obliged to contrive some standard. Otherwise he is easy prey for any clever scoundrel who knows how to take advantage of his predicament to lead him into a den of thieves. What is this standard? What elements does it comprise?

  Clearly there are at least two elements. One is the relevance of the news to my predicament. If the stranger in the desert approaches me and announces, “I know what your need is. It is diamonds. Come with me. I know where they are”—I reject him on two counts. One, because it is not diamonds I need; two, because, if he is such a fool or knave as to believe it is diamonds I want, he is probably lying anyway. But if he announces instead, “Come! I know your need. I will take you to water”—then this very announcement is an earnest of his reliability. Yet he might still be a knave or a fool.

  Two men are riding a commuter train. One is, as the expression goes, fat, dumb, and happy. Though he lives the most meaningless sort of life, a trivial routine of meals, work, gossip, television, and sleep, he nevertheless feels quite content with himself and is at home in the world. The other commuter, who lives the same kind of life, feels quite lost to himself. He knows that something is dreadfully wrong. More than that, he is in anxiety; he suffers acutely, yet he does not know why. What is wrong? Does he not have all the goods of life?

  If now a stranger approaches the first commuter, takes him aside, and says to him earnestly, “My friend, I know your predicament; come with me; I have news of the utmost importance for you”—then the commuter will reject the communication out of hand. For he is in no predicament, or if he is, he does not know it, and so the communication strikes him as nonsense.

  The second commuter might very well heed the stranger’s “Come!” At least he will take it seriously. Indeed it may well be that he has been waiting all his life to hear this “Come!”

  The canon of acceptance by which one rejects and the other heeds the “Come!” is its relevance to his predicament. The man who is dying of thirst will not heed news of diamonds. The man at home, the satisfied man, he who does not feel himself to be in a predicament, will not heed good news. The objective-minded man, he who stands outside and over against the world as its knower, will not heed news of any kind, good or bad—in so far as he remains objective-minded. The castaway will heed news relevant to his predicament. Yet the relevance of the news is not in itself sufficient warrant.

  A second canon of acceptance of news is the credentials of the newsbearer. Such credentials make themselves known through the reputation or through the mien of the newsbearer. The credentials of the bearer of knowledge sub specie aeternitatis are of no matter to the scientist. It doesn’t matter whether Wagner, in writing his music, is a rascal or whether Lavoisier, in speaking of oxygen, is a thief. The knowledge sentence carries or fails to carry its own credentials in so far as it is in some fashion affirmable. If the newsbearer is my brother or friend and if I know that he knows my predicament and if he approaches me with every outward sign of sobriety and good faith, and if the news is of a momentous nature, then I have reason to heed the news. If the newsbearer is known to me as a knave or a fool, I have reason to ignore the news.

  If the newsbearer is a stranger to me, he is not necessarily disqualified as a newsbearer. In some cases indeed his disinterest may itself be a warrant, since he does not stand to profit from the usual considerations of friendship, family feelings, and so on. His sobriety or foolishness, good faith or knavery may be known through his mien. Even though he may bring news of high relevance to my predicament, yet a certain drunkenness of spirit—enthusiasm in the old sense of the word—is enough to disqualify him and lead me to suspect that he is concerned not with my predicament but only with his own drunkenness. If a Jehovah’s Witness should ring my doorbell and announce the advent of God’s kingdom, I recognize the possibly momentous character of his news but must withhold acceptance because of a certain lack of sobriety in the newsbearer.*

  If the newsbearer is a stranger and if he meets the requirements of good faith and sobriety and, extraordinarily enough, knows my predicament, then the very fact of his being a stranger is reason enough to heed the news. For if a perfect stranger puts himself to some trouble to come to me and announce a piece of news relevant to my predicament and announce it with perfect sobriety and with every outward sign of good faith, then I must say to myself, What manner of man is this that he should put himself out of his way for a perfect stranger—and I should heed him. It was enough for Jesus to utter the one word Come! to a stranger—yet when he uttered the same word in Nazareth, no one came.

  The message in the bottle, then, is not sufficient credential in itself as a piece of news. It is sufficient credential in itself as a piece of knowledge, for the scientist has only to test it and does not care who wrote it or whether the writer was sober or in good faith. But a piece of news requires that there be a newsbearer. The sentence written on a piece of paper in the bottle is sufficient if it is a piece of knowledge but it is hardly sufficient if it is a piece of news.

  A third canon of acceptance is the possibility of the news. If the news is strictly relevant to my predicament and if the bearer of the news is a person of the best character, I still cannot heed the news if (1) I know for a fact that it cannot possibly be true or (2) the report refers to an event of an unheralded, absurd, or otherwise inappropriate character. If I am dying of thirst and the newsbearer announces to me that over the next dune I will discover molten sulfur and that it will quench my thirst, I must despair of his news. If the castaway arrived at his South Sea island in 1862 and found his adoptive land in bondage to a tyrant and if a newsbearer arrived and announced that Robert E. Lee and the Army of Northern Virginia were on their way to deliver the island—such a piece of news would lie within the realm of possibility yet be so intrinsically inappropriate that the most patriotic of islanders could hardly take it seriously. If, however, there had been promises of deliverance for a hundred years from a neighboring island and if, further, signs had been agreed upon by which one could recognize the deliverer, and if, finally, a newsbearer from this very island arrived and announced a piece of news of supreme relevance to the predicament of the islanders and announced it in perfect sobriety and with every outward sign of good faith, then the islander must himself be a fool or a knave if he did not heed the news.

  (5) Response of the Reader of the Sentence

  The response of a reader of a sentence expressing a piece of knowledge is to confirm it (or reject it). The response of a hearer of a piece of news is to heed
it (or ignore it) by taking action appropriate to one’s predicament. In the sphere of pure knowledge, knowledge in science, philosophy, or art, the act of knowing is complete when the sentence (or formula or insight or poem or painting) is received, understood, and confirmed as being true. Other consequences may follow. Physics may lead to useful inventions; a great philosopher may invigorate his civilization and prolong its life for hundreds of years; a great artist may lower the incidence of neurosis. But science is not necessarily committed to technics; philosophers do not necessarily philosophize in order to preserve the state; art is not a form of mental hygiene. There is a goodness and a joy in science and art apart from the effects of science and art on ordinary life. These effects may follow and may be good, but if the effect is made the end, if science is enslaved to technics, philosophy to the state, art to psychiatry—one wonders how long we would have a science, philosophy, or art worthy of the name.

  The appropriate response of the reader of a sentence conveying a piece of knowledge—a piece of knowledge which, let us say, falls in the vanguard of the islander’s own knowledge—is to know this and more. The movement of science is toward an ever-more-encompassing unity and depth of vision. The movement of the islander who has caught the excitement of science, art, or philosophy is toward the attainment of an ever-more-encompassing unity and depth of vision. The man who finds the bottle on the beach and who reads its message conveying a piece of knowledge undertakes his quest, verification and extension of the knowledge, on his own island or on any island at any time. His quest takes place sub specie aeternitatis and, in so far as he is a scientist, he does not care who he is, where he is, or what his predicament may be.