Perhaps the greatest
philosophical achievement of Dèscartes, and his most valuable philosophical
legacy to humanity is his doubt. It is explicitly presented as his first
methodological precept in the previous entry, and its full force can be felt in
the following two excerpts from his Discours de la Méthode, Book I:
“From
my childhood, I have been familiar with letters; and, as I was given to believe
that with their help a clear and certain knowledge of all which is useful in
life might be acquired, I ardently desired instruction. But as soon as I had
finished the full course of study, at the close of which it is customary to be
admitted into the order of the learned, I completely changed my opinion. For, I
found myself involved in so many doubts and errors, that I was convinced I had
advanced no farther in all my attempts at learning, than the discovery at every
turn of my own ignorance. Yet, I was studying in one of the most celebrated
Schools in Europe, where I thought there must be learned men, if such were
anywhere to be found. I had been taught all that others learned there; and not
content with the sciences actually taught us, I had, in addition, read all the
books that had fallen into my hands… I was thus led to take the liberty… of
concluding that there was no science in existence that was of such a nature as
I had previously been given to believe.”
“…Of
Philosophy I will say nothing, except that when I saw that it had been
cultivated, for many ages, by the most distinguished men, and that, yet, there
is not a single matter within its sphere, which is not still in dispute, and
nothing, therefore, that is above doubt, I did not presume to anticipate that
my success would be greater in it than that of others; and furthermore, when I
considered the number of conflicting opinions touching a single matter that may
be upheld by learned men, while there can be only one true, I reckoned as
well-nigh false all that was only probable.”
Meantime, he honestly confesses
that perpetual doubt is hardly the greatest perfection for the philosopher:
“I
clearly saw that it was a greater perfection to know than to doubt. As I
observed that this truth,-- Cogito ergo sum,-- was so certain and of
such evidence that no ground of doubt could be alleged, I concluded that I
might accept it as the first principle of the Philosophy of which I was in
search. And as I saw that in the words Cogito ergo sum there is nothing
at all which gives me assurance of their truth beyond this, that I see very
clearly that in order to think it is necessary to exist, I concluded that I
might take as a general rule the principle that all the things which we clearly
and distinctly conceive are true, only observing, however, that there is some
difficulty in rightly determining the objects that we distinctly conceive. But
if we did not know that all which we possess of real and true proceeds from a
Perfect and Infinite Being (God), however clear and distinct our ideas might
be, we should have no ground on that account for the assurance that they
possessed the perfection of being true. But after the knowledge of God and of
the soul has rendered us certain of this rule, we can easily understand that
the truth of the thoughts we experience when awake must not be called in
question on account of the illusions of our dreams. For, if it happened that an
individual, even when asleep, had some very distinct idea, as if a geometer
should discover some new demonstration, the circumstances of his being asleep
would not militate against its truth. But whether awake or asleep, we must
never allow ourselves to be persuaded of the truth of anything, unless on the
evidence of our Reason. And it must be noted that I say: of our Reason; and not
of our imagination, or of our senses.”
Ironically, he is just as
helpless here as in his painfully unfulfilled quest after the Creation
Formula, except that there, he realized his failure, whereas here,
in the false certainty of Cogito, ergo sum, he lulls himself into a
sense of discovery, which, on close scrutiny, turns out to be nothing but an
illusion.
The only suitable key to a
conditional acceptance of his thinking here, however, is not to see him trying
to prove anything at all, but in making the argument that his hypothesis must
have a certain merit, and it can be sustained not as a proof of anything, but
as a hypothesis only. This distinction is subtle, but critical! As to what
Dèscartes must have had in mind as an absolute certainty and what must indeed
hold as true against even the worst type of cynicism is what his words
explicitly tell, and why his sentence ought to be accepted fully and
unconditionally: Clearly, it is a greater
perfection to know than to doubt! There can be no doubt about
that!
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