Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Kant's clarification of "I think, therefore I am."
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
Monday, April 26, 2010
Kant's Premises
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"
Unity of Self-Consciousness
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.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
A Suspicion
The Condition for the Possibility of the Control of Time
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Synthesis
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
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
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.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Kant'sequences
Monday, April 19, 2010
Kant and Special Relativity
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?
Sunday, April 18, 2010
A Question of Method
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
Friday, April 16, 2010
Further Inquiry into A Priori Synthetic Judgments
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.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
question about a priori knowledge
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Hume's Ethics?
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
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.
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.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Hume on Miracles
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
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.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Hume's conception of Nature
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?
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
My thoughts after class arrived at nothing.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
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?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Experience
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Hume and The Divided Line
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
Friday, April 2, 2010
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.