Transcendental This, Transcendantal That

Ok, I know that I have to be wrong about this, but for the life of me I can't seem to sort through my own mess. Maybe someone can help me!

We touched on this topic in class a bit. I am having trouble figuring out the logical necessity for the "I", or what seems to be something of a transcendental ego, coming before the transcendental aesthetic. My confusion is this:
1. The transcendental aesthetic is the condition for the possibility of experience.
2. The transcendental ego is the condition for the possibility of experiencing the transcendental aesthetic.
3. We have an intuition of the transcendental ego as a focal point for all experience. (this an intuition through time and space)
4. isnt the intuition of our transcendental ego the condition for having a focal point?
5. if so, isnt the transcendental aesthetic the condition for the possibility of the intuition of the transcendental ego?

So if we are only aware of our centrality (focal point) through time and space, doesn't that give logical priority to the aesthetic as before the ego? musn't there be a transcendental aesthetic in order for our focal point to exist? and also musn't there also be an ego for our intuition of space and time to exist?

Ok, now i am repeating myself. The logical priority of one of these coming before the other is unclear to me. It seems like they both must necissarily exist prior to the existance, or at least the experience of the other; or perhaps the aesthetic must exist for the ego to exist, but the ego must only exist for us to have access to the aesthetic. By that I'm simply trying to avoid "experience the aescthetic" because I don't want to imply they are things in themselves...even though the aesthetic must exist in order for the ego to exist...

Why Modern Philosophy?

The focus of this blog is consider possible reasons why modern philosophy came about and where philosophers are to go from this point.

Starting with Bacon, the modern project began to develop. Post-renaissance natural science and philosophy (or natural philosophy, if you're Bacon) shifted to obtaining knowledge in a new way, i.e. with Descartes' skeptical idealism over Aristotle's objective realism (to speak broadly). Descartes' skepticism began a philosophical route that was never shaken, for even though Kant successfully overcame the Humean problem, he recognized that Descartes' fundamental doubt holds when experience is considered as a direct channel to reality. Soon, philosophy resulted in Nietzsche, and eventually resulted in Rorty. I am not one to claim that these two examples are necessary or inevitable--I am merely pointing out they did come along, and in all likelihood would not have if they lived during Aristotle's time. They were timely.

Was modern philosophy, then, just so timely? Did it come about merely because of historical influences? Or were the modern philosophers on to some aspect of Truth on which the ancients did not pick up? It seems as if we are left with few choices: (1) Admit of the necessity of a Kantian-based philosophy, (2) Reject the modern project and revert to ancient ideals, or (3) Become skeptics or nihilists or Rortians.

After now studying both modern and contemporary philosophy (albeit in meagre amounts compared to the whole), I continue to hold an ancient philosophical perspective. But I also maintain that it is ineluctably apropos for the philosophy student to not ignore the history of philosophy and admit of the advances that have been made in the history as a whole. If anything (and this a stretch in the conservative direction), modern philosophy sufficiently shows the shaky ground on which mere subjective experience leaves us, and calls either itself or the possibility of the knowledge of Truth into question altogether. It seems to be, at bottom, a necessary tenet of living the philosophical life in the modern world to be familiar with a broad range of (if not all) systems of thought and philosophical ideas, for not until we know how we got here will we honestly know where we stand.

Modern Philosophy and Science-envy

Looking back upon all we have read this semester, the theme of science is prevalent. Many of the moderns seem to have a sort of science-envy, and this may be for good reason. After the Renaissance, the natural sciences started making leaps and bounds in terms of inventions and discoveries. Looking around, philosophers noticed that the philosophy of the ancient and middle ages didn't do as much as they wanted it to do. On top of this, much of it seemed to be founded on something shaky. I will offer a short summary of the ways in which the moderns tried to emulate the natural scientists of the day. I will then briefly look at how this changed philosophy.

Starting with Bacon, many of the old ideas were out. The most important of these included knowledge for its own sake. Bacon wanted fruits. He wanted theories only insofar as they could produce tangible results which benefited man in a material way.
Descartes took from science a method. He insisted that we break things into their smallest parts. He also insisted that we not accept anything as true of which we are not evidently certain. With these in mind, Descartes is thinking of geometrical deduction.
Hobbes wanted to turn politics into a legitimate science. He started by taking the first few chapters of his book and doing nothing but defining terms. Once he had defined everything necessary, he merely had to deduce the outcomes.
To be honest, I am not sure how Locke or Rousseau fit into this schema...
Hume, realizing that this scientific method based on experience could not support itself, proved that if we have nothing but experience to work with, the certain, universal, and scientific knowledge that everyone wanted was impossible.
In response to this, Kant found a way to save the sciences. He saved metaphysics by the only means possible--turning it too into a science.

As I said earlier, the reason that the moderns went in this direction was because of the unprecedented success of science. It seems to me that the character of philosophy is different post-Kant than it was pre-Bacon. The Ancients, although extremely worried about truth, had more on their minds. Plato and Aristotle were looking for the beautiful and noble life and not just certainties. As someone like Dr. Anderson might say, they were looking for wisdom and not just true propositions. My question is (and it is a serious question): Are certainties as valuable as the moderns make them seem? What can we do with absolutely certain truths, and have we found any? If we accept Bacon's general hypothesis that we should seek after fruits, what has philosophy actually produced? Other than jobs I can't think of much.
Compared to Science, philosophy is an abysmal failure at producing fruits. Looking at contemporary analytic philosophy, one sees a lot of philosopher who do little more than stand over the shoulders of scientists and check their logic. Maybe this is good, but it is philosophy of a different type. But what does this mean? The first thing this indicates is that the goal of philosophy has not been unanimously decided upon. This is most clear today when one can go to Borders and can find books by Foucault, Ayer, and Joseph Owens all headed under philosophy. Although science and philosophy both look for "truth," what this means is different in each case. The moderns have directly pointed to the question "what is philosophy?" Modern philosophy is different than ancient and contemporary philosophy, because they all have different answers to this question. This semester has helped me think about this question in new ways. Although I don't yet have an answer, those of us studying philosophy in a post-modern and pluralistic world must answer this question in a way different than a man from ancient Greece or a man from 18th century Germany did.

P.S. It seems at once evident that even if one can answer this question, it is not as clear as that. What the moderns teach us about epistemology is important whether you accept it all or not. One cannot simply choose a philosophy and ignore the rest. A follow up question to "what is philosophy?" might be "What the hell is everyone else doing and in what way is it useful?" Because, even if others are wrong, they may still be on to something. Or as someone like Hegel might say, no one is completely wrong.

Kant and the Brick Wall of Experience

Kant begins the B Deduction with the observation that sensibility offers us a manifold of representations, but the understanding combines these representations. This combination cannot be given in sensibility, for only intellectual intuition (which we do not have) could directly intuit the combination of objects. Thus we must have a spontaneous faculty, the understanding, which takes the manifold of sensibility and combines it into one coherent whole of experience.

I wonder about this. Is it really the case that, at the deepest level of understanding, intuitions are manifold and diverse? This is Kant’s picture, which I will call the “brick wall” picture of experience. Experience is a diverse manifold of plural experiences, each of which is a tiny brick. For Kant, the understanding is the bricklayer that builds these bricks into a coherent whole. My use of the brick metaphor is not meant to imply that Kant says experiences are capable of being broken into individual, irreducible atoms of experience (sense-data). As far as I can tell, space and time are continuous, not discrete, and thus such a picture would not work. Instead, I mean to bring attention to the fact that experience arises when smaller parts are worked up into a whole.

Is it fair to question the way Kant has set up the problem? What if, instead of a brick wall, we said that experience was a fundamentally whole lump of clay? Rather than building up a whole experience from parts, the understanding, then, is a sculptor that breaks apart the clay into different figures, that divides the given unity into different individuals. As the last sentence shows, I think many of Kant’s basic insights about the understanding would still hold. If the unity were given, the fact we can represent it as manifold would require a spontaneous act of the understanding, but one that posits differences, breaks apart, and individiuates rather than one that joins together. So something would look different, and I wonder what it would be.

Kant's clarification of "I think, therefore I am."

In Section 25 of Deduction (B), Kant is clearly talking about the Cartesian Cogito, or, "I think, therefore I am." He deals with it right after discussing the nature of inner sense, and I believe that he sheds some much-needed light on the limitations of Descartes' famous phrase.

To quickly restate Kant's theory(?) of knowledge, the understanding must combine an intuition and a concept of the same object under a unified self-consciousness. This knowledge is only of appearances, and does not extend to the thing-in-itself, which would require some kind of intellectual intuition combined with a concept, and Kant admits that he does not know if we can have any intuition besides a sensible one.

From here, Kant takes the "I think" and renders it as a concept of our existence. Yet it is still a concept, and needs an intuition in order to become knowledge. Here, Kant makes use of "inner sense." It is by inner sense that we have an intuition of ourselves as an object of which we can have knowledge. The inner intuition that we have combines with our concept of "I think," and allows us to know that we do, in fact, exist. However, we do not exist any more so than other objects that we experience externally. We do not have some sort of special intellectual intuition that allows us to know ourselves as us-in-ourselves.

There are two (and possibly more) ways to view Descartes' Cogito. If one takes it as the starting point that Descartes uses to deduce everything else that follows in his Discourse, then it is plain that, in light of Kant, we cannot deduce things like God or the Soul from a knowledge that is only of appearances. However, one can also see the Cogito serves only as an example of a "clear and distinct" idea that Descartes is searching for so vehemently. While I believe Kant would agree that, while ambiguous in certain terms (The "I" of "I think," for example), it is clear that thinking implies existence of some sort, and that this idea is clear and distinct. But unless Descartes can provide some sort of intuition to accompany this idea, it will remain just an idea, and never knowledge.

Owens, the Cartesian starting point, Hume, and Kant

In "An Introduction to Christian Metaphysics," giving a summary of the history of metaphysics, Owens says that Kant never once thought of denying the Cartesian starting point. Owens of course is objecting to Kant's refusal to deny the cartesian starting point. One finds later in the book that although he does make it appear that he deals with the problem of the uncertainty inherent in the senses, Owens really just ignores it.

Owens simply says that the sentiment we feel when we come into contact with a sensible object is much stronger than the belief in something in our minds and much stronger than our belief in the supersensible. He concludes from this forcible sensation that sensible objects are grasped intellectually--that is, he says it is no sort of belief that grasps these objects. But Owens offers no way to demonstrate such certainty. He can't, yet he is determined to say that we have full evidence and that this evidence is that we do in fact see something. Like I said, he offers no evidence to get around the uncertainty inherent in our senses. He simply restates himself in various intellectual ways.

Now, this does nothing but introduce doubt into Owen's account of metaphysics (because it is based on the fact that we have direct cognitive access to the world). It doesn't falsify it. But how did Hume and Kant come to such doubt concerning their senses? They could only do so by enquiring into the relationship between their minds and the world. But if they conclude that the senses are to be doubted, since the phenomena of experience (sensible things) play a fundamental role in our enquiry into the mind, then it seems that their conclusions, too, can be doubted. They can only delve into their minds by observing the relations between their minds and sensible objects. Sensible objects are too be doubted. Thus, the conclusions arrived at by relying on sensible objects to enquire into the mind also can be doubted.

Now, Let's say that Owens (or another Thomist or Aristotelian) brings this objection against Hume or Kant: "Your conclusions concerning the doubt of the senses, too, can be doubted, since you partly relied on the senses to come to your conclusions regarding the limits of the human understanding."

This may at first seem like a forceful objection. It is, but perhaps not as forceful as the Owens/Aristotelian might like. Both Hume's and Kant's conclusions can be doubted. But such an objection doesn't falsify Hume or Kant (just as the doubt of the senses doesn't falsify Thomism), but merely introduces a little doubt--a tincture of Pyrrhonism, if you will. If Owens uses the doubt concerning the senses concluded by Hume or Kant against their conclusions regarding human understanding, then Owens is accepting their doubt, and using it against them. In doing so he doesn't dismiss or dispel the doubt, he uses it against Hume and Kant. The conclusion: there is a little doubt, a tincture of Pyyrhonism, in all 3: Owens, Hume and Kant.

Our senses can be doubted because of the uncertainty regarding the mind's relation to the external world. Thomism can be doubted because of the inherent uncertainty regarding our senses. Hume and Kant can be doubted because they do, in part, rely on their senses to enquire into their minds.

( Yes, it does seem that I am playing the role of the Pyrrhonist here; But lest one think that it is useless, it should be kept in mind that Hume is quite dogmatic in his claim that his enquiry into the human mind cannot be doubted and that Owens very much thinks that his dogmatic conclusions are quite certain. Kant, too, seems confident in his restructuring of metaphysics.)

Kant's Premises

It seems to me that all of Kant's arguments are founded upon the grounds that the ONLY thing humans receive from objects is their appearance. This is expressed well enough at the conclusion of the A Deduction: "For the reason that our knowledge has to deal solely with appearances, the possibility of which lies in ourselves, and the connection and unity of which (in the representation of an object) are to be met with only in ourselves." From this premise Kant freely asserts the 'exaggerated and absurd' conclusion that "the understanding is itself the source of the laws of nature." [A 127]

I am wondering if this premise, namely, that appearance is all we receive of objects, and that therefore we can never reach or know the thing in itself (the =x), is the entire foundation of Kant's Critique, and if one wished to challenge Kant's arguments one would perhaps endeavor to explain how we do indeed have some contact with objects in themselves, therefore proving that appearances do not have to conform to our intuition, sensibility, apperception, etc.

The "I"

In section 16 of pp. 153-155, Kant discusses the idea that synthetic unity is necessary for perception by the "I," or the one creating this synthesis of a priori knowledge and objects through the understanding. Something I was wondering as I was reading through this section (note the "I" ...) was whether or not Kant thinks that these a priori knowledge and objects exist at all outside of the context of the "I", and, if so, of what use they are. It made me think a bit of Bacon's idea of practical philosophy and the idea that philosophy is fruitless if there isn't a practical application for it. Then again, I may be misunderstanding Kant entirely because he seems to write like a mis-ordered dictionary.

Unity of Self-Consciousness

I'll admit, right off the bat, that I do not fully understand what Kant is doing in Deduction (A). This post is essentially an attempt to make sense of this term "Unity of Self-consciousness." I'm also going to attempt the whole numbered-proposition thing. Failure is likely.

1. Our sensibility intuits appearances of objects, which are the only things we can know.

2. In order for this intuition to become knowledge, it must also be grasped by the understanding as a concept.

3. In order for this concept to refer to the object intuited, the concept and the intuition must be unified a priori.

4. This a priori unity is a trascendental condition for the possibility of experience, and is the "Unity of Self-Consciousness," which Kant entitles transcendental apperception.

I don't even want to post this. This is probably wrong. Please, for the love of Kant, help me understand this.

A Suspicion

Kant makes it clear that it is our minds that construct the empirical world, which most people would consider to be external. We have no way of knowing if our a priori concepts line up with the external world (x) because even space-time, as well as the pure a priori concepts of the categories, are simply products of our mind. Moreover, they are necessary for any thought and therefore impossible to escape.

This seems to bury any hope for understanding the "x" itself, but I have a nagging suspicion. The Evolutionary idea of "survival of the fittest" may be tinting this thought, but it seems strange that there could be a mind whose appearances do not correlate with reality. Would it not make sense to say that our concepts do indeed correspond with "x", and this gives us the ability to successfully navigate reality? We seem relatively able to live, and does this not suggest some functional success of our mental action?

The above paragraph is, of course, loaded with empirical observations and therefore rooted in the a priori concepts of the categories. So really, it gets me nowhere and I am more confused.

Any thoughts?

The Condition for the Possibility of the Control of Time

For Kant, time is the condition for the possibility of all intuitions. As simplistic as it sounds, time allows us the possibility to understand things temporally; without this it would be quite difficult or perhaps quite easy to make it to class on time. But I wonder to what extent we have sensible control over time. If time is a condition for all sensations, and does not exist as a thing itself, what do we make of our ability to control the progression of time? It seems as I write now I can concentrate on the time passing, making it “go slower” or focus on the text I write, making time seem to “go quickly”. While this is touching on the practice of psychology, I think it has some significance with the transcendental aesthetic. If we can control such basic condition for the possibility of experience, in some way it would seem that we can control our own ability to experience. If this is true, is that ability a condition before the transcendental aesthetic? If it is not, there would have to be some strange type of regression in the way we can manipulate experiencing; we would have to have the condition for the possibility of experience be partially dependent on our ability to control it. I do not mean that we control it as a thing in itself, but that we control the condition as it is implied in our intuitions. If this control is not a part of or before the transcendental aesthetic, then it would seem that it is an appearance and not an actual control. Maybe we think we have control when in fact that control we perceive is nothing more than an intuition. Thoughts?

Synthesis

In this post, I am going to (hopefully) clearly lay out what synthesis is and what constitutes it. Since I unfortunately read Husserl's conception of synthesis before I read any Kant, I am having a difficult time not conflating the two, which is only further confusing an already confused mind. I am going to break down one sentence in particular and italicize words the definitions of which confuse me and define the words as I go.

In Book I, chapter I, section 3, §10 of the Transcendental Logic, Kant says, "By synthesis...I understand the act of putting different representations together, and of grasping what is manifold in them in one [act of] knowledge."

Manifold: Kant has yet to strictly define this. It usually seems to be referring to the manifold of appearances, but here it is operating differently, i.e. as an adjective instead of a noun. In order to figure this one out, I'm going to try to define knowledge first.

Knowledge: Kant says that knowledge, properly called, is gained through the understanding, and the understanding brings synthesis to concepts (p.112). Kant goes on two paragraphs later to list three criteria for the obtainment of knowledge. The first criterion that must be given is the manifold of pure intuition. The second is the synthesis of this manifold by means of the imagination. The third and last criterion that must be given is the concept(s) that give pure unity to the synthesis and that consist solely in the representation of this synthetic unity. One act of knowledge, then, comprises the manifold of pure intuition, the synthesis of said manifold, and the concepts that give unity to synthesis.

Unfortunately, this didn't get me anywhere with the manifold confusion.

Manifold: the conception of many in adjective form. Maybe Kant means: "...and of grasping what is multifaceted in them in one [act of] knowledge." Probably not. Maybe: "...and of grasping what is different-occurrences-of-an-object-with-many-properties in them in one [act of] knowledge." This is also probably incorrect, but it's what I think when I read this sentence.

My main concern at this point is to highlight the difference(s) between synthesis and pure synthesis. Kant says that the understanding brings general synthesis to concepts (the ... was actually, "in its most general sense"), but later says that concepts bring unity to pure synthesis. Ergo, there is some kind of difference. The quote first expounded refers to synthesis in its most general form, and later Kant says that, "Pure synthesis, represented in its most general aspect, gives us the pure concept of the understanding." Now we are presented with the distinction between pure concepts and normal concepts. As of right now, I am of the opinion that pure concepts are the categories and normal concepts are something like universals or abstract ideas.

Synthesis, then, is the "result of the power of imagination," something that is formed into concepts by the understanding.

Pure synthesis also gives us concepts, but they are pure concepts.

The only point of confusion arising from this distinction is Kant's third criterion for knowledge. Here he refer to concepts that give unity to pure synthesis. For now, at least, it seems that synthesis is both formed into concepts and arises from the unity of concepts, whether they be the same concepts or different ones.

I am not sure if this is correct, or if it helps anyone, but I think it helped me separate Husserl and Kant's syntheses sufficiently. If anyone has corrections, suggestions, or thoughts, please share.

Some Clarifying Measures

Going back to our second day discussing Kant and pertaining to Mr. Wiley’s consternation over Kant’s reasoning concerning knowledge and experience, I thought it might be helpful to note how Kant gives weight and representation to his claims in his sections concerning Time and Space.

Let us first recall that famous line with which we are dealing: “But though all our knowledge begins with experience, it does not follow that it all arises out of experience” (41). Now I know we wrestled with the predicament of this paradoxical assertion in class last Wednesday, but even so, I feel as if we never quite came to a decisive answer as to 1) what the difference, according to Kant, between beginning with and coming out of experience actually is and 2) if there is such a distinction, how Kant represents the difference between the two. And while we may not have, at the time, been quite far enough into The Critique of Pure Reason to stand witness to Kant’s illustrations, we now have before us, after reading “The Transcendental Doctrine of Elements,” some further groundwork on which to build.

Accordingly, in section B54, Kant makes the claim that “time is something real” (79). Moreover, he goes on to call time “the real form of inner intuition,” that which “is therefore to be regarded as real, not indeed as object but as the mode of representation of [him]self as object” (79). Kant, therefore, presents time as the primary representation of his assertions concerning the relation of knowledge and experience. He notes time as an empirical and subjective reality and, in turn, professes it “the condition of all our experiences” (79). Herein, Kant unfolds his paradox. He points out how since time is, first and foremost, merely the condition for the possibility of experience, we humans know time apart from experience and, thus, express a knowledge that does not arise out of experience. Meanwhile, because time is something real, taking on the form of our pure intuition, which is itself the origin of our sensibilities and ability to recognize objects, we must first experience objects in space and time in order to know what time is and how it functions empirically. This knowledge of time, thus, begins with but does not derive out of experience.

Taking these ideas concerning time into consideration, it becomes easier, however slightly, to see how Kant can so readily make the claim that knowledge both begins with and does not always arise out of the realm of human experience. Moreover, it gives whole new weight to the transcendental claim, borrowed from Dr. Davis, that if we are thinking, then there is, by necessity, time.

Getting Clear on Sensation and Intuition

To be honest, many of the finer distinctions in Kant go right over my head, so I would probably believe him no matter what he said. Thus in writing this I hope that I’ll figure out why these distinctions matter. I will focus here on the transcendental aesthetic, and the map of the various faculties Kant draws there.

In the first paragraph of the transcendental aesthetic, Kant names two faculties: sensibility and intuition. Sensibility is “the capacity (receptivity) for receiving representations through the mode in which we are affected by objects” (A19/B33), while intuition “is that through which [a mode of knowledge] is in immediate relation to [objects], and to which all thought as a means is directed” (A19/B33). Sensibility is what is responsible for us being affected by things-in-themselves, while intuition represents to us the way in which we are affected—that is, allows us to be conscious of what’s going on in sensation.

In distinguishing the two faculties, Kant is distinguishing between our being affected by an object and the our being conscious of an object. Why is this necessary? I think the necessity of this distinction must lie in Kant’s distinction between matter and form (A20/B34). Sensation, Kant reasons, is responsible for the matter of appearance, for by definition sensibility is our capability of being affected by objects. But if that was the end of the story—if the same faculty were responsible for being affected and being conscious—then form could not be given to our sensation. A single sensation cannot account for the way it stands “ordered in relations” to other sensations (A20/B34). Thus our ordered representations of sensations cannot be the same as sensation—we have sensations which supply the matter, and intuitions which represent this matter, as well as represent the form.

I am unsure whether this is a valid argument. This argument occurs before he has shown us specifically what in experience is purely intuition and not sensation. More pointedly, the ideality of space and time presuppose this distinction. At this point, space and time could still be real existences or inherent relationships of objects. Could we just reject this distinction out of hand, then, and say that the form and relationships of sensations results from the spatial-temporal form and relationships of the objects we are sensing? Or am I missing a step here? Discuss.

Kant'sequences

I am not here concerned with giving a proper explanation of Kants argument for synthetic apriori judgments. I would instead like to focus on the consequences of Kant. Kant has introduced (although of course he wasn't the first, but perhaps one of the strongest) to us the modern epistemological problematic. Post-Kant, if we accept him, we are no longer able to think about the really real. The only thing we have access to is an appeareance, and exactly how it represents the thing in itself is beyond us. This infinitely separates us from reality: As humans, we can't come into contact with it. All metaphysical conclusions resting on the assumption that we come into contact with the real world are null. We are left with a world of appearance and a capacity incapable of penetrating them.

Yes, this is an obvious implication of Kant. But it is such an important step--progression (maybe!?), deviation,(!?), relegation(?), perhaps merely a change-- in the history of philosophy that I thought it worth discussing. Plus, a break from the labyrinth of Kant is nice.

Kant and Special Relativity

In the Transcendental Aesthetic, Kant asserts that space and time are not absolutely real. He asserts their "objective validity" and their "transcendental ideality" which amounts to Kant saying that space and time arise from within subjects. In addition to this he says that space and time are not "things" or "objects". The conditions for the possibility of intuiting anything through sensibility (regardless of what that thing is) are space and time. They are forms of intuition and so cannot be things, because things are only only possibly sensible through space and time. I would like to juxtapose this with a (very shallow and popular) representation of special relativity as envisioned by Albert Einstein.

1) Special relativity treats space as a thing. It is not a thing in the sense that it is composed of matter, but it is a thing in the sense that it can undergo change. For example, when a large mass is resting in space, it curves space and so causes other bodies near it to behave as if they were on a slanted plane.

2) Special relativity treats time as something more than a form of intuition. I am hesitant to call it a thing, but it is not a constant and it is relative to different observers. For instance time can speed up or slow down depending on the rate of velocity of the subject. This brings me to my third point-

3) Special relativity treats space and time not as two distinct "entities" (or whatever they are) but as two aspects of one unity: spacetime.

As I said earlier I have a very limited understanding of special relativity. Kant may be able to get around the second objection by saying that none-the-less, time is still the form of all intuition. In fact, Kant might say, when you say time you are talking about something that is relative to two different observers and thus we are not even speaking of the same thing, because you still have to admit of my "time" which is different than yours.

I don't know how Kant could get around the first or third objections. It may be that none of these are contradicting Kant's thesis, but at the very least he has some explaining to do. To put this in question form, can Kant maintain that space and time are nothing but pure intuitions while incorporating the a priori theories of post-Einsteinian classical physics? Does he need to? Can Kant explain the relevant empirical data with a different interpretation while still holding his view of space and time?

A Question of Method

It has been commonplace for many of these modern philosophers to refer to philosophy as a science, or to liken it to a science. Kant is no different. In fact, his primary goal is to make a science out of metaphysics. But what if he is doomed from the start? What if someone (Plato) had already excluded metaphysics from the realm of science, for good reason?

I acknowledge Kant's reasons for wanting to make metaphysics a science. He sees the success of mathematics and the natural sciences, and is envious. They have made such great progress. They are (mostly) unified. They command great respect among people; people recognize them as important and necessary pursuits. Then he turns to metaphysics and sees nothing but (what appears to him to be) sophistry and confusion. Huge edifices built on unstable foundations. Opinions taken for certainty.

Kant resolves that for progress to be made in metaphysics, reason, the faculty by which we do work in metaphysics, must be critiqued, and a new method of discovery must be employed once reason's powers have been discovered. Kant borrows the "strict method of the celebrated Wolff," which requires that secure progress for a science can only be attained through "orderly establishment of principles, clear determination of concepts, insistence upon strictness of proof, and avoidance of venturesome, non-consecutive steps in our inferences." (2nd Preface, B xxxvi, pg. 33) Surely this is a fine methodology to adopt in order to establish metaphysics as a science.

But perhaps there is something self-deceiving about adopting a scientific attitude towards metaphysics. Maybe progress in metaphysics cannot be built on "orderly established principles." Could it be that instead we should proceed by treating our principles not as orderly and established, but as hypotheses, and whats more, as fallible ones? If we choose to proceed, not sure that we are right, but hopeful that we may be right, is it possible that we may be able to get closer to the thing-in-itself, or immortality, or God?

Honestly, there problems with this method as well. People grow attached to their metaphysical speculation, and where they once held a sort of healthy scepticism towards their principles, they consider them rigid and fixed. This can be seen in any of the "ism" schools. Platon-ism, Aristotelian-ism, and Thom-ism, are all just examples of people who began to trust and rely on their founder's metaphysical assumptions, and Kant sees this as a problem that squelches real progress in philosophy. But if we can consider the ideas of Plato, Aristotle, or Thomas, free of their "ism's," is it possible that one, or all of them, can contribute to a fuller understanding of metaphysics? In short, does the study of metaphysics lend itself more to Wolff's rigid methodology, or to Plato's dialectic?

Kant Solves Space and Time

In the first two sections of his Transcendental Aesthetic, Kant asserts the "empirical reality" of both space and time. He emphasizes that time has "objective validity in respect of all objects which allow of ever being given to our senses", because all experience is sensory, and we cannot sense without time.

Kant makes it clear that space and time are not absolute reality; they are the form of our inner intuition and not the form of the objects themselves. This is interesting because it limits all human thoughts of space and time to a specific sphere of truth, namely the form of our inner intuition. The problems usually associated with space and time (such as wondering if the universe is spatially and temporally infinite, among others) are largely null and void, for all statements rest on some assumption of the absolute reality of space and time.

On the other hand, Kant leaves "empirical knowledge unaffected" which seems puzzling, for if space and time are not absolutely real then how can we trust our experience? This fear can be assuaged though, since space and time are not mere lenses on our inner intuition as regards to experience, but the actual form of our inner intuition itself. Therefore space and time are not to be doubted in their empirical reality, for they are the very fabric of our experience and as such are not things to be doubted (in an empirical sense)

Of course this does not discount the transcendental ideality of space and time, but it seems that Kant wants to distinguish himself from full idealism in his discussion of space and time's empirical reality.

Further Inquiry into A Priori Synthetic Judgments

I am going to walk through my thoughts to see if I understand this. If I make a mistake feel free to comment, criticize, or accost.

An a priori analytic judgment is made when concept A is logically deducible from concept B. A is contained within the definition of B: All bodies are extended.

An a postriori synthetic judgment is made when one joins concept A with concept B, while A is particular and contingent to B: (I'm not sure if these judgments are expressed in universal terms or not but I am doing so) walls are dusty. Nothing within the the concept of "wall" could lead one to the concept of "dusty". I have done this through experience.

An a priori synthetic judgment is made when one joins concept A with concept B, while A is not found within B, yet "necessity and strict universality are sure criteria of a priori knowledge" (B4). I give two examples from Kant: 5+7=12, and "in all changes of the material world the quantity of matter remains unchanged". The first example is a priori synthetic because one cannot get the concept of 12 from "5", "7", "+", or the whole mathematical proposition. Although this is true, the answer 12 is necessary and universal so it is an a priori synthetic judgment. In the second example the concept of quantify preservation is not found within the concept of mass, yet this principle is universally true.

Here is my first question: To verify an a priori synthetic judgment mustn't one consult experience? If one is consulting experience, says the skeptic, then how can one make such universal claims? Kant addresses this: "Now the proper problem of pure reason is contained in the question: How are synthetic judgments possible?" (B19).

Kant's solution seems to be that instead of looking for cause and effect, or space and time in the outside world, we need to realize that these are not real objects. They are the condition for the possibility for encountering objects. Presumably, instead of storing a collection of observed facts in our memory, we can by access our pure reason and discover the conditions for the possibility of experiences.

If this is true don't we still have to have experience to ever "use" the categories in our mind? If this is the case, then do we consult experience in forming a priori synthetic judgments? This last question is premature but are we now able to get around the skeptic when forming these a priori synthetic judgments? In other words how are able to attach new concepts to our original a priori concepts (using a priori synthetic judgments) that are ensured to be universal? Can the skeptic still doubt the necessity of a claim like all bodies are heavy?

One sentence at a time.

We discussed this in class a bit but I still don't understand it. "If the receptivity of our mind, its power of receiving representations in so far as it is in any wise affected, is to be entitled sensibility, then the mind's power of producing representations from itself, the spontaneity of knowledge, should be called the understanding" (93). I will accept this definition of receptivity and sensibility. (I am taking them to mean the same thing as I don't see why any difference that could be drawn between them would matter) They are an ability of our mind that lets us receive the impressions he mentions on page 42. The part that reads, "... mind's power of producing representations from itself." This would be my definition of memory but Kant is calling it the "spontaneity of knowledge," which he says should be called understanding. I'm not so sure that we should call understanding the mind's power of producing representations. Can I understand something without making a representation of it? The first reason I think not is because i can surely make a representation of something that doesn't accurately correspond to the real world - in which case we ought not call it understanding at all. Also, note that Kant stresses the word spontaneity when describing understanding. I see how spontaneity is an important faculty of the mind but not so much when talking about understanding. Can anyone shed some light on this? I'm entangling myself with all these definitions...

question about a priori knowledge

Kant sets forth the category of a priori knowledge as that knowledge which is independent of experience. He cites mathematics as an example. In today's world technology has progressed far beyond what Kant was familiar with. I am specifically referring to the realm of computers. Everything done with the computer is a series of complex mathematical equations--graphics being created through the use of geometry. Do computer graphics and virtual worlds give us the means of experiencing mathematics?

Hume's Ethics?

While Hume stresses the importance of the role of experience in philosophy, and that proper observations can only be made within the bounds of impressions, he still allows that those who practice religion and matters of metaphysics must continue to be allowed to do so. “Whether this reasoning of theirs be just or not, is not matter. Its influence on their life and conduct must still be the same” (11, §28). In fact, Hume goes on to state that any man who would attempt to free another from his “prejudices” would be doing a disservice to society, “since they free men from one restraint upon their passions, and make the infringement of the laws of society, in one respect, more easy and secure” (11, §28 contd.).

Up until this point Hume has been stating that religion and metaphysics should be eliminated from philosophy in order to strengthen the role of reason, and here he seems to be contradicting himself. Why would he encourage a person to continue to live with expectations of a future state that cannot be grounded in the senses or reason? The very basis of his philosophical system relies on what can be proven through reason or the observable, so allowing one to live according to contrary beliefs seems to be taking a step backward.

Is Hume trying to make a distinction between the philosopher and the common man? He acknowledges that by proving the absurdity of a man’s religion or idea of a future state based on the actions of his former life, the liberator would, in a way, be encouraging the idea that there is no reason to live up to an ethical code. In order to maintain a stable social structure, it is necessary to allow men to hold onto their fancies insofar as it causes them to be better citizens within the state. Although I hesitate to call this allowance a form of ethics, the concept of allowing the masses their fancies in order to provide philosophers with a stable environment for their practices of philosophy is only made possible through making such a distinction between those who acknowledge the impossibility of truly knowing metaphysics and a common man living through his religious or metaphysical prejudices.

The Problem of Subjective Value

The interplay between impression and customary conjunction is an interesting one. Hume makes it very clear that any reliable, believable idea must refer to some innate impression, be it "outward or inward." This means that when we speak of ideas, we must restrict our conversation to those which appear strongly and vividly to us, those that we "hear, or see, or love, or hate, or desire, or will" (Section 2, para. 3). Hume deals with the objection that this way of thinking renders action impossible (because it denies cause and effect) by maintaining that we are still able to formulate a belief based on customary conjunction. A tends to follow B in every case that we have experienced, and while we do not claim to be able to predict that A will follow B, we can still act on our belief that it is probable that A will follow B.

While this helps Hume avoid any accusations of "sceptical paralysis," things become more complicated when we consider the subjective value each individual ascribes to these events. Take this example:

Alfred loves spending money on other people, but gift-giving is not important to Benita. When Alfred and Benita both see the same person give a gift to a friend, they react quite differently. Alfred may go over and congratulate the gift-giver, or even praise his generosity, while Benita may not even notice the event, and certainly will not act on it.

How then, does Hume wish us to judge the characters of these people? The sight of generosity resounds deeply with Alfred, but Benita is not excited by it at all, if she even notices the act. The same thing has appeared lively to one person, and faintly to another. It seems that Hume would have a difficult time putting together any kind of consistent ethical or political system. What, in Hume's terms, is the reason to believe in that system's standards should it not appear strongly and vividly to each and every person?

Hume's Dualism.

"It may be said, that we are every moment conscious of internal power; while we feel that, by the simple command of our will, we can move the organs of our body, or direct the faculties of our mind."

Hume admits that we are indeed conscious of the fact that the motion of our body follows from the command of our will (65); however, we do not know the means or energy which makes this possible. What is apparent to experience is the temporal succession of our will to our body's motion. The connection of the soul to the body is not apparent.

The boundaries of this will are also learned by experience. Telekinesis, for example, is imaginable, but we learn from experience that it is not possible. We also learn from experience that the 'automatic' organ functions (such as our heart beating, our breathing, our digestive system) are not under the command of our will but are contained within our body. People with lost limbs, as well, will attempt to move their 'ghost limb.' On top of this, we learn from anatomy that we are not conscious of the mechanical construction of our body.

It does remain evident; however, that there is a will. We have experience of this. It is also evident that our will manifests itself in the motion of our bodies.

I do not think, however, that we immediately begin with will and then discover its boundaries. Rather, we immediately begin with bodily motion and then begin to discover our ability to make acts of volition. My breathing works automatically before I learn to regulate it. I starting eating before I could will to eat. I already had the ability to move before I had anywhere to go.

In this, we do not try to make acts of volition in ways that is impossible for us unless something necessitates us in a pseudo-delusional way (the light saber is too far away to reach), which is a kind of rare wishful thinking.

In a more primordial sense, we do not deliberate about making acts of volition unless we are already aware of our ability to make such an act.


'Ghost limbs' emerge from repetition of such events. One once had the ability to move one's arm which one has now lost. The particular will which emerged from this ability is now gone.

Our will over other things, as well, emerges with our notion of will in general. For example, when I begin to realize that I can will to eat, food then becomes something affected by my will. Food still exists in the causal relationship it existed in when I started eating.

In order to conceive of causality, I have to break the action down into subject and object. I will to eat food. Here, there is a causal relationship being established in my expression of the relationship between subject and object. Without the dualism, there is just the immediate instance of the task of eating. With the dualism, we have a single instance of a causal connection. This causal connection now becomes a part of our experience every time we eat in that we can now divide the task of eating into parts. 'Causality' emerges when we take up the idea of causal connection itself, which dispersed throughout our expressions of various subject/object relations.

I do not think causality is apparent without the subject/object dualism, nor do I think the dualism is apparent without grammar. Hume preserves the Cartesian subject/object division from which he experiences objective causality to break down.

Hume on Miracles

I am going to attempt to clarify what I find objectionable about the miracle argument, because in class I got the “you’re crazy” look from a few people.

Imagine: you are at a bar, sitting next to a rather uninteresting-looking 35-year old man that you have never met. You share a few Belmont-appropriate non-alcoholic drinks, conversing about a variety of topics until he relates one of the two following stories:

1. One day, I was walking home from work and a stray dog approached me. It opened its mouth and, to my amazement, recited a short poem by Sylvia Plath. Then it ran away, and I haven’t seen it since.

2. As I was walking home from work one day, I was approached by a stray dog. It opened its mouth and, to my amazement, spoke to me in English. It told me: “I am Allah, the one true God, and it has pleased me to use this dog to tell you to convert to Islam.” The dog then disappeared.

Both examples are extraordinary, and we have good reason to be wary of the man. That said, the first example is much less believable than the second. In the first example, we have a talking dog, and there is no explanation why that dog could talk. It is purported to have happened within the bounds of ordinary experience, and that there was some connection of events that led to this dog talking that was in principle experienceable by anyone. It implies that the world is the kind of place that, left to itself, could generate a talking dog. If true, it would invalidate “the firm and unalterable experience [that] has established [the] laws of nature” (X.i.12).

In the second, an explanation is offered. The implied connection of events is that something operating outside and above the bounds of ordinary experience caused an ordinarily impossible event to happen for some end. It does not require us to invalidate our firm and unalterable experience. The laws of nature and our sanity are still left intact.

I am not saying that the second account is believable. I am merely pointing out that the second account is less contrary to experience than the first, because the inclusion of an omnipotent being changes the relationship that account has to experience. Because it is less contrary, such accounts can be subjected to slightly less strict scrutiny. How much leeway does this allow? I'm not sure, nor do I have room to develop a guess here. I am merely pointing out that Hume is ignoring an important distinction that makes some miracle accounts much more plausible than others.

Hume and Philosophy

In this post I will explore what kind of philosophy may be pursued after Hume or if one becomes a Humean. (I am defining philosophy as the search for knowledge of Truth, and the philosopher as one who seeks it.) After making my view on skepticism clear in our last class session (and in Philologoi, and in general), this is not a diatribe against skepticism or about how skepticism could or could not work - I intend to carry out a sincere investigation into what might become of philosophy post-Hume.

What we know: external (immediate) sensation, internal sensation (emotions), numbers and quantity, memory, and logic.

What we learn according to custom: ideas (those that include things outside of mere memory), morality, and pretty much anything not on the knowledge list.

I want to determine where this leaves philosophers and whether being a philosopher would differ from not being a philosopher.

What can a philosopher do? First, he can go through Hume's system. Realizing that abstract thoughts other than quantity and number are mere "sophistry and illusion" (12, §34), one can make a lot of bonfires. But after this, what shall we do? Studying physical sciences seem like an option, albeit with the catch that none of science's inferences could actually be confirmed. Moral philosophy also seems like a trope, for all morality is based on sentiment (7, footnote a; 12, §34), and sentiment changes according to custom (or per individual).

I am concerned that in reality, all a philosopher is able to do is act like nothing happened. He knows what he cannot know (causation, god, universals), but he continues to act according to custom, which is built on these rejected concepts. Hume insists that Nature will inevitably win over abstract reasoning (5, §2; 12, §21), for "Nature is always too strong for principle" (12, §23). If the purpose of philosophy is to seek Truth, which inevitably includes principles, philosophers are left with naught.

Maybe this is the way it must be. Then, so be it. But is there, then, a difference between a Humean (who is called a philosopher), and an everyday common man? Should we be Humeans at all? Or, are we better off among the rabble, who--regardless of whether they are concerned with Truth--act according to custom just like Humeans?

I have no answer. There is always something to be said for becoming educated. So, maybe that is the way to go. But upon that answer I ask, "Is a Humean a philosopher at all?" Maybe he is insofar as he becomes a Humean--at that point he is still searching for Truth. But once he realizes Truth about anything other than sensation, number, logic, and memory is unattainable, may he be considered a philosophos? Of this I have serious doubts.

Hume's conception of Nature

After Dr. Davis mentioned his curiosity about what Hume's conception of nature is, I thought I might take a look at it.

Here is his theory about what would happen if all of mankind became Pyrrhonian skeptics:

"All discourse, all action would immediately cease; and men remain in total lethargy, till the necessities of nature, unsatisfied, put an end to their miserable existence... Nature is always too strong for principle." (Chapter 12, paragraph 23)

Nature seems to hold a profound significance in the study of reality for Hume. But it is difficult to say exactly what he thinks nature can tell us about reality. In the above quote, he might be saying that nature would end the miserable existence of the extreme skeptic who does not even satisfy one's craving to eat out of his doubt that hunger-pains are really connected to lack of nourishment in the body, since they have reason to doubt causality.

Hume makes an interesting statement later in the same paragraph, where he says that the "whimsical condition of mankind" is that it "must act and reason and believe," since men are unable to satisfy their understanding of or objections to the operations and foundations of their minds.

If nature in fact does correspond with the law of causality, then how would Hume grant that the human mind is privy to knowledge of reality?

My thoughts after class arrived at nothing.

It is only human nature to seek causes from effect and eventually arrive at an inquiry of first causes. This is one of the biggest problems for almost any philosophy. Even though Hume deals with this problem by a form of skepticism, I wonder if he is being skeptical enough. (Perhaps I was bitten by the skepticism bug after today's class). Epicurus is on the right philosophical track when he says, "You afterward become so enamored of this offspring of your brain, that you imagine it is impossible, but he must produce something greater and more perfect than the present scene of things, which is so full of ill and disorder. You forget, that this superlative intelligence and benevolence are entirely imaginary, or, at least, without any foundation in reason." So, there is no way that one can ascribe attributes to this being. The reason I claim that Hume doesn't go far enough with his skepticism is because I don't understand how we can even know that there is a God when he has no attributes. Hume is saying we know he is there, but we don't know what he or there is. I hate to be picky when it's obvious I could be misunderstanding the text. Nonetheless, I'm not seeing any real way around this. Of course he comes to the conclusion of this first mover through reason. The only difference between what I'm saying and what Hume is saying is that you arrive at there not even being a hypothesis to arrive at. If I have concluded on any sort of validity, what happens now? What would a conclusion like that mean?

Hume and a Moral Philosophy of History?

In paragraph 7 of “Of Liberty and Necessity,” Hume notes a uniformity of the human condition that renders history, intellectually speaking, rather useless. He states, “Mankind are so much the same, in all times and places, that history informs us of nothing new or strange in this particular. It’s chief use is only to discover the constant and universal principles of human nature, by showing men in all varieties of circumstances and situations, and furnishing us with materials from which we may form our observations and become acquainted with the regular springs of human action and behavior” (76). While Hume seems, at other times, rather detached from the idea of a regulated understanding of human actions in relation to moral qualities, he seems to make an exception in this passage. By pointing out the role history plays in teaching some men lessons about how other men really are, Hume recognizes the notion of an objective moral standard for humanity and the ways in which that standard is directly linked to history’s task. He points out that just as when in nature every effect has its cause, every human action has some lesson it teaches about the nature of man and some cause from which that said human nature is derived. Hume, thus, seems to posit, in this passage, that his principled notions of Determinism are, in some way, inexorably linked to the events and ramifications of human nature in history.

Going further, Hume later notes the role of history, in teaching people the character of human nature, to “regulate our future conduct” as people in society (77). In doing so, Hume seems to be arguing that the purpose of history is, above all, to provide mankind with a sort of moral compass, enlivened by the knowledge of who and what and how men really are. In a way, Hume points out how history should, in its proper context and use, examine the mistakes of human nature committed by leaders of the past to transform our understanding of the present and alter the way we go about dealing with the same issues in the future. But is Hume’s reckoning inconsistent with his further assertions concerning the nature of human understanding? And how would Hume justify his notion of history as a tool of morality in relation to God’s sovereignty? Is history, if the world is set in motion and regulated by the divine providence of the Almighty, influenced by the actions of men at all?

Experience

Let me start off by saying that my edition doesn't have the paragraph separations but I'll try to point out the section as close as I can. About 2/3 of the way through Part II of "Of Miracles," Hume says "It is experience only which gives authority to human testimony, and it is the same experience which assures of the laws of nature." I don't know that I am quite convinced by this, especially with what follows: "When, therefore, these two kinds of experience are contrary, we have nothing to do but to subtract the one from the other and embrace an opinion either on one side or the other with that assurance which arises from the remainder." This statement seems to reduce contrary experiences to simple probability and mathematics, which I find a bit difficult to argue. I don't think that there can be surety of something if there is in fact a contrary experience, regardless of the "remainder" that may result. For example, if I were to say, "apples are red," after having seen one out of the 300 I'd seen which was green, that statement wouldn't be any more correct than had I seen 100 red apples and 200 green.

Hume and The Divided Line

I would like to make the claim that Hume is not as radicalas he first appears. I think that the major epistemological claims being made can be found in Plato's works. To paint the broad strokes that make up An Enquiry, I think we can summarize the book into a large 'If, Then' statement: IF Hume's epistemology is correct, THEN we must do away with Knowledge in the strict sense (this includes knowledge of metaphysics, principles of nature, cause and effect, and in short everything that is not sensed).

Hume's epistemological claims are founded on the conception that "all our ideas or more feeble perceptions are copies of our impressions." Hume say that there are two types of perception. The first is experience or impression. This includes things sensed, and emotions felt. The second type of perception is thought or idea. All thoughts and ideas have their origin in experience and nowhere else (except for the occasional inference of shades of blue which need not concern us here). In examining the form of the book, one realizes that Hume spends a relatively short amount of time defending the IF portion of the book and a relatively large amount of time defending the THEN portion of the book. The reason he does this is because undoubtledy historical. Hobbes and other moderns seem to agree on this epistemological point quite readily. It seems, however, that the IF is the more important and fundamental claim, and that is the claim whch deserves the most attention.

I am makng the claim that Hume should have spent more time defending the IF claims, because Plato already implied Hume's results in his analogy of the Divided Line. Plato's Divided Line divides all possible information of anything into 4 distinct ways. Starting with the bottom we have Imagination, Belief, Thought, and finally Understanding. Ignoring what Hume has to say about mathematical knowledge, Hume claims that all access we have to things outside of ourselves is through what Plato calls Belief. We then form ideas which (seemingly) correspod to what Plato calls imagination. By saying this Plato implied 2,000+ years ago that if all we have is sense knowledge, we can never do metaphysics, or have any Knowledge in the strict sense of the word. Knowledge is a function of the soul, while belief is something we form out of sense data. Granting Hume the IF portion of his book, I think Plato would heartily agree that custom (or belief) is how we "know" metaphysics and cause/effect. Although they should have spent more time defending their IF claims, the modern philosophers are casting the burden of proof back on the Platonists and Aristotelians. It is now their job, not to start debates about the THEN portion of Hume's argument (for this is already accepted if one trusts the Divided Line), but to show that we have access to things other than through our senses and that our souls have faculties which the modern epistemology cannot account for.

Hume and Bacon

In an extensive footnote in the ninth chapter of An Enquiry..., Hume gives a list of factors explaining why men surpass animals in intelligence, as well as why some men surpass others in understanding. These factors indicate various faculties of the mind, focusing on the strength of memory, observation, and the ability to follow a train of consequences. In short, Hume describes the qualities distinguishing a good mind and a bad one.

Several of these qualities hark back to Bacon's discussion of human understanding in Book One of his New Organon. Hume states that the "forming of general maxims from particular observation" is a common mistake from "haste or narrowness of mind" and correlates with Bacon's condemnation of the mind's tendency to "spring up to positions of higher generality". Hume also claims that biases from "prejudice, education, passion, party" can cloud someones judgments; this seems to be almost a summary of the Idols which Bacon claims pervade and dampen men's intelligence.

Hume and Bacon however emphasize different ways for human understanding to be increased, although their positions do overlap somewhat. Hume seems to believe that an accumulation of experience gradually improves human understanding (through methods discussed earlier in the Enquiry), while Bacon endorses a rigorous transformation of the way in which humanity pursues knowledge. Bacon condemns previous errors resulting from human passions, while Hume's assumption is that over the course of history, humanity has relied on experience for a steady base of knowledge. Hume seems to imply that humans are, on the whole, reasonable and have developed effective systems of knowledge from their accumulation of experience. This contrast to Bacon may be because Bacon has yet to see the fruits of the Scientific Revolution, while Hume lives in a world of burgeoning innovation. Hume's doctrine of "proofs" seems to be the closest thing to Bacon's focus.

I'm trying to remember if Hume has discussed scientific experiments yet...anyone?

Hume's Skepticism

Hume begins section 5 with a praise of Academic Skepticism. He says that it is an honest philosophy, which is less likely to fall to the passions of the mind—those passions that lead one to premature dogmatic conclusions. The height of Hume’s praise is embodied in the following sentence: “Every passion is mortified by it, except the love of truth; and that passion never is, nor can be, carried to too high a degree.”

Despite their love for truth, though, the Skeptics have received hatred. It is precisely their love for truth that causes this, for the skeptics are quick to expose the hasty judgments of other philosophical systems.

The Academic skeptics, instead of reaching dogmatic conclusions, choose rather to suspend their judgment on uncertain matters. In short, they suspend belief. With proper consideration, such a suspension of belief seems to be problematic for rational animals. How, if they are to suspend belief, are the skeptics to function? For example, would a true skeptic not question his belief that a car was moving toward him and thus get it by it? This is a question of the coherence of the skeptic: If the skeptic truly suspends belief, he would not be able to function. The skeptic does function. Thus, the skeptic doesn’t truly suspend belief.

Realizing that this problem would arise to the reader, Hume addresses it. He explains that such skepticism doesn’t interfere with those governing principles nature has endowed us with. If a car is moving toward the skeptic, he will move because it appears that he will be hit. This is natural to him. It is natural to him, and thus he acts. If one asked the skeptic why he moved, he would reply that it appeared that the car was going to hit him. If asked why such a thought made him move, he would reply that based on experience, it was reasonable for him to do so. If asked by what reasoning he made this step, he would say he doesn’t know or know if it was reasoning at all, but it’s worth discussing.

This discussion is where Hume begins. It is important to understand the foregoing explanation of skepticism, for if one becomes incredulous because such skepticism seems impractical and contrary to experience, he not only has misunderstood the reason for Hume’s enquiry, but is likely to exclude himself from the possibility of seeing truth in the skeptics claim, if indeed they are true.

Humean Epistemology

"When a child has felt the sensation of pain from touching the flame of a candle, he will be careful not to put his hand near any candle; but will expect a similar effect from a cause which is similar in its sensible qualities and appearance." [5: 23]

I accept Hume's argument that the child is not led to this conclusion by any process of reasoning. I also accept that human understanding rests on some principle when it asserts the existence of cause and effect. But in the particular case of a man who would claim that every time there is a flame there is also hotness is a matter of fact, it seems presumptuous, or at least just as fallible, to say that his claim is false. Just as it is logically possible that at some moment in the future a flame may produce coldness (flame-man's claim falsified), it is also logically possible that at some moment in the future flame will be demonstrated to always produce hotness (flame-man's claim verified). So Hume cannot rule out the possibility that the hypothesis, every time there is a flame there is also hotness, is a true belief and thus future knowledge. And I don't think that he does rule it out, since he categorizes it as belief. But it is clear to me now that he has avoided a commitment to a metaphysical position. By being metaphysically irresolute, Hume can simply point out the elusive "governing principle of our actions" and in that way bring the reader closer to his views without any metaphysical baggage.

A Better Question.

Whether or not the smaller details of Rousseau's account of human nature are trivial. Any objection to his arguments can be found on a lower level. One must consider the very base of Rousseau's argument which undoubtedly that of human nature. He argues that our nature is to do away with what he considers to be unnatural desires and to focus on the equalities that come naturally. By supporting this view, one must necessarily consider human nature to be that which does not actualize our rational potential. This is backwards. Rather than emphasizing the gap between society and human nature, we must close that gap. It is human nature to reach towards rationality and therefor society. I'm assuming that there is no such thing as a society without rationality based on the fact that any willing exchange of goods/services MUST be a rational one. Of course there can be irrational exchanges but if so, I would not call that a society.) Once that debate has been settled, we can begin to ask ourselves whether or not Rousseau's unnatural inequalities are necessary when we do aspire towards actualizing humans rational potential; a question I find much more worthwhile.

Personal thoughts - It's funny how I think Hobbes and Locke overestimated human rationality but I think Rousseau's account greatly underestimates that rationality. Is there a median philosopher?

Rousseau: Taking Pragmatic Action

How are we to take Rousseau in an age where reverting back to his ideals, back to a true state of nature, would be impossible without a massive, global reduction in population? Do we remain in society and attempt to produce a change? Or, do we reject all of civilization and camp out in a remote South American forest?

Though Rousseau was writing in a time in which most of the world had been claimed as some entity's property (thereby establishing civil society in all corners of the earth, p.161), there were still some remaining wild lands. However, we can be certain he knew these places would not remain in a state of nature for much longer. It seems that, with this knowledge, he would write something more than a speculative history of the social and political structures of human beings. I would like to think he offers some kind of guidance, a suggestion of pragmatic action, amidst the hell of civilization. I haven't found it though.

Perhaps Rousseau would suggest that we drop all of our "surrogate activities," or tasks that hold no meaning to the savage man? Perhaps we try to eradicate all appearances and falsities from our own personal existence and consume ourselves with the activities that the savage man would participate in? Of course, in modern society, with legal and social restrictions, such steps towards a state of nature are all too easily thwarted.

No matter how good this supposed state of nature is, what is its ultimate value for us, modern/civilized people, without at least having an option to take some step back towards it?

The Distinction Between Society and Nature

I would like to bring attention to one of Rousseau’s most important presuppositions: that there is a radical distinction between nature and society. This distinction is evident from the first paragraph of the Preface, when Rousseau talks of man “as Nature formed him” and the need “to disentangle what he owes to his own stock from what circumstances and his progress have added to or changed in his primitive state” (P.1). The state of nature is some sort of default state, and the changes added by society are accidental changes to the nature of man.

I contend that this is a problematic assumption. Rousseau’s stated goal is “knowing men themselves” (P.1). This means the task set before us is to separate nature and nurture, to separate the essence of man apart from the conditioning arising from his environment. To use a modern analogy, if man were a robot, we are trying to understand his programming. Now, man is a very sophisticated robot, a robot that has the ability to change its own programming to adapt to various situations. In order to get at the original programming, we must find some way of abstracting away the various inputs that change its code.

If we say, with Rousseau, that man is capable of being conditioned, I see no reason for privileging the state of nature as man’s default state. The state of nature, too, provides inputs that man will absorb, causing him to change his programming. Admittedly, the input provided by society is more complex, but the man in Rousseau’s state of nature is only “natural” in the sense that he is not in society. Rousseau’s natural man is only an appearance, not a man-in-himself. Assuming Rousseau’s account is right, we have learned only how man would appear after exposure to a certain kind of environment, but we have not learned what the unconditioned man is like. Even if we were to grant that society is the only force that conditions man, we now have simply sidestepped the question and have made no attempt to understand the part of our nature that allows for such conditioning—the most important part. Either way, the absence of conditions is itself just another external state of affairs.

The antinomy that concerns us is not nature versus society, but man versus nature (here in the sense of that man's environment). In this sense, society and nature are not even distinct. Man is presented with a world; man faces nature. Society is merely a force of nature, acting in that environment.

How Do We Proceed, Rousseau?

Rousseau has been a fascinating read, and clear proof that an elegant style of writing can lend a great deal of perceived credibility to its author. As an added layer of security, Rousseau is quick to point out that he is only speaking "conjectures" (pg. 132, Exordium), and is not referencing supernatural revelation or the opinions of any underdeveloped sciences (Part 1, Paragraph 1). In a word, these thoughts are based on Rousseau's observations of man in Society (probably where he was living) and in more Savage states (the oft referenced Caribs), and stretch back in time by means of Philosophy to man in his original State of Nature: alone, simple-minded, able-bodied, and untroubled.

Rousseau is the first of the philosophers we have read that has depicted pre-Society man in any sort of favorable terms, and it calls ethical systems such as Aristotle's directly into question. How can we maintain that theoria is man's highest aim if he has no need of such a complicated activity in his original State? Are the intellectual virtues just man's coping mechanisms for life in Society, where appearance takes such a large role? Even if we were to try to reject the exercise of our intellectual capacities, could we even be successful in our attempt to return back to our original, simple State?

Undoubtedly, no. The complications and influence of society on our body and mind are practically inescapable at this point. We must find some way to live with our "overdeveloped" intellectual capacities. As Rousseau points out, we never develop any capacity unnecessarily, so there must be some way to make use of this extra faculty. To try and neglect it will surely lead to a feeling of discontent and unease. Even in light of our Savage nature, we must embrace our biggest defect: our intellect. We may never be able to live in the State of Nature, but we can make the best of our Society-adjusted selves by doing what Savage man did naturally: to exercise our capacities as they are naturally suited to us, and to avoid unnecessary desires.

The Phenomenon of Free-Will in Rousseau's “Savage Man”

“His modest needs are so ready to hand*... (par 21)” The savage's knowledge consists only of the means by which he can accommodate his 'modest needs.' They are 'ready to hand' in that he need not deliberate about the means of accommodation, it is already known. The savage, when hungry, looks for deer. He has knowledge of deer, how to find it, and how to kill it. He need not 'think' about how he is to perform this task- he knows how to. It is the instinctive response to his passion.

The difference between savage and animal is the 'optional' nature of the passion: his free will. To act on his hunger presents itself as and option which he may obey or disobey “...and he is so far from the degree of knowledge necessary to acquire greater knowledge, that he can have neither foresight nor curiosity.” The savage has the knowledge of how to find and kill the animal already; he need not come up with a plan or strategy. He has found food many times in the same way. His free-will is his ability to deliberate between the two passions.

When I go to my refrigerator for a glass of water, I do not need to deliberate how to carry out my action (as long as I remember there is water in my refrigerator). My passions tell me that I am thirsty and I can either choose to continue typing or go get a glass of water.** My deliberation is only in-between my thirst and my laziness to get up. If I go and return without something disturbing the process, I can preform the whole task without even paying attention or thinking about it (as long as there is water in my refrigerator and the cups are where I think they are, etc.) I have performed this task many times. Likewise for the savage, “[t]he spectacle of Nature becomes so familiar to him that he becomes indifferent to it. Forever the same order, forever the same revolutions...”

Let us then turn to the following passage: “His soul, which nothing stirs, yields itself to the sole sentiment of its present existence, with no idea of the future, however near it may be, and his projects, as limited as his views, hardly extend to the close of his day.” Let us suppose that Paul wakes up in the morning tired and wants to remain in bed. He remembers, however, that he has to make a tent today in order to buy this week's groceries. Paul is now faced with two options; however, he is now deliberating between a current passion and a possible future passion. He knows that he will encounter the future passion because of his past.

Let us now imagine Paul deliberating about whether he should go to the supermarket now or make a tent and go to the supermarket later. In this case, he is not deliberating about the future passions (he knows he will be possibly be hungry without deliberation) but is deliberating about the most efficient way to accommodate them. When the passions then arrive, he need not deliberate about them, unless they are strong enough to throw him off schedule. He eats breakfast at eight, lunch at noon, and dinner at six.

The savage's means of accommodation is already 'known,' he only deliberates with the passions themselves. The means of accommodation is a 'regularity'- in the same way that Paul need not deliberate the fact that he will, at some point, be hungry the savage need not deliberate that he can do such-and-such to accommodate his hunger. Paul's past informs him of the passions themselves- their order, regularities, revolutions, etc- and in this mode of 'foresight,' he plans out each day, as well as planning for tomorrow, the week, the month, and the year in terms of what he might possibly have to deal with. It is also of importance that in 'foreseeing' Paul ultimately sees his inevitable death- “one of man's first acquisitions on moving away from the animal condition (par. 19).

In summary, savage man deliberates between his immediate passions but not how his passions are to be accommodated, as he has foreseen this already. The civilized man, to the contrary, does not deliberate between his passions which he has foreseen already; he rather deliberates about the best means to accommodate these passions with respect to time.

*I think the translator might have stolen this phrase from someone...

**By the way, I actually did wait until I finished typing this to go get a drink of water. I don't know what that says about my autonomy, though.

Jean-Jacques, I'm confused.

I shall begin this post by saying that I like Rousseau. What he has to say feels like a breath of fresh air after reading Hobbes and Locke, and his account appears to be more accurate. Allergy season and all - I like Nature, and the idea that going back to humanity's supposed roots requires a Savage does not seem out of line. But I am still unable to satisfactorily reconcile Rousseau's account of what human beings have become with what they ought to be, or with what I consider to be an inextricable necessity for considering a human being qua human being: intellectual capacity.

In order to separate a human from an animal, the human must have rationality above and beyond said animal. (Cases of retardation and other such mental handicaps set aside.) My first point of confusion is what it is that originally separates the Savage as a human from an animal. This becomes less of a problem when we move onto the Savage's golden age, but it seems fuzzy in the Savage's original state. (See beginning of Part II §2, where Rousseau seems to use animal and man nigh interchangeably. Contrast with §6, when man learns to conserve and reproduce fire. This seems to begin his political appropriation.)

This leads into my second and biggest point of confusion and concern. Human beings have declined when they live outside themselves (in or through society) (§57). Going hand in hand with the development and sustainment of society is the development of human's mental faculties. This development is seen in the formation of language (however that happened), complex communities, and private property. Human beings go wrong, then, when they overdevelop their rational faculty. But this seems to suggest that when a human being becomes most a human being (by developing that which makes him so), he has become a bad human being (by [over] developing that which makes him so?).

Maybe I'm missing something. When reflecting on civil man's physical weakness, I am reminded of what Mr. Davis drew on the board Monday. Savage man's mental and physical capacities were equal. Contemporary man's mental capacity far outweighs his physical fitness, and this is a problem for Rousseau. But the advancement of mental capacity seems like the unavoidable end point of humanity as such. I understand how overdeveloping ones potential to gain weight is bad, as is overdeveloping one's potential to be muscular - they must be done in proper proportion to everything else. What I do not understand is why mental capacity's proper proportionality is capped, when - as the necessary human quality - it naturally develops into a great and powerful thing.

Help?