Calling his philosophy true
metaphysics, Hume is often accused of being disingenuous, in the sense that
he is not a metaphysician at all, but a brutal destroyer of metaphysics. This
accusation relies on the distinction between metaphysics and empiricism, where
the former subsists on synthetic a prioris (leaping forward to Kant’s
formidable but abstruse, and eventually faulty, defense of metaphysics), while
the latter denies them altogether, as well as our ability to make reasonable
conclusions based on generalizations of unexperienced phenomena. I believe that
Hume is not completely disingenuous here, because he doesn’t really deny us our
tool of induction altogether, but approaches it with greatest distrust, which
may be interpreted as some sort of thoroughly skeptical “metaphysics.”
The gist of Hume’s epistemology
lies between the concepts of impressions and ideas. An impression
is the immediate result of our perception, the purely empirical unit,
connecting the subject and the object without any need to complicate this
connection with esoteric parameters. Having received an impression,
through our memory and imagination, we are now capable of forming
a certain idea, on the basis of our experience, and putting it in the
context of other ideas, which we had previously formed.
Not surprisingly our impressions
are always fresh, while our ideas are rather faint, this being a
hurtful insult of sorts to our natural pride in our intellectual abilities as
being superior to our sensual experiences (those in whom sensuality overwhelms
rationality and spirituality are most certainly incapable of having any kind of
opinion on these rather supra-sensual matters). But after some sober
consideration, we can learn to live with it, in so far as we are content that
empiricism is only a part of the picture, pushed upon us on a “dare,” but never
the whole picture!
Apparently, all of Hume’s
epistemology can be reduced to our digestion of impressions into ideas.
(I think I am kind of improving on Hume here, as he sees this transformation
more like copying, whereas I ascribe to it a more creative type
of transformation. After all, we see mostly what we are interested in seeing,
and in an unabashedly subjective way, so that the very impression of the
object on our mind--- I don’t care how fresh it is--- may not even correspond
to other people’s impressions of that very same object, and--- need I
add?---even to the object itself, in the event that we mistake the object for something
else.) Beside these ideas, we, allegedly, have no others in the immediate
sense, but plenty of secondary ones, produced via the association of the
primary ones with each other and all.
Do not be mistaken about it, Hume
does not deny us the rational ability to use our judgment and draw some
conclusions, even daring ones, from these associations. What he denies us,
however, is the validity of most of our conclusions, provided they are not
supported by direct observation and similar experience. Thus, he rejects all
traces of causality in our conclusions. Apparently, he is a grandmaster of non-sequitur
verdicts. If, say, our experience of A is always accompanied by our
experience of B, it does not follow from this that our next experience of A
ought to be judged as an experience of an actually unexperienced B. (I just
adore such labyrinths of logic, do you?!)
Mind you, he does not deny the
occurrence of for any reason unexperienced B, but only our assurance of it
(which is exactly the implication of non-sequitur). In the example of
the last entry (Hume’s Philosophical Cul-De-Sac) the fortieth student
may well turn out an imbecile, for all we know, but it doesn’t follow from our
thirty-nine such experiences that this will be the case. Another illustration
can be given of a coin toss, which in the last five tosses has given us tails,
which in no way should convince us that the sixth toss will also be tails. (As
a matter of fact, the set probability theory in this case puts its money
on heads!)
And finally, we may conclude
(very significantly, for without this conclusion, we may fall into a grotesque
misconception) that Hume is a well-reasoned subjectivist (and a
considerable improvement on Berkeley’s subjectivism, at that!) judging from the
following quote from his Treatise of Human Nature (Book I, Part III, Section
VIII):
All
probable reasoning is nothing but a species of sensation. ’Tis not solely in
poetry and music we must follow our taste and sentiment, but likewise in
philosophy. When I am convinced of any principle, ’tis only an idea which
strikes more strongly upon me. When I am giving preference to one set of
arguments above another, I do nothing but decide from my feeling concerning the
superiority of their influence. Objects do not have discoverable connections
together; nor is it from any other principle, but custom operating upon the
imagination, that we can draw any inference from the appearance of one to the
existence of another.
And now, once again, but in his
own words, this is how Hume summarizes the most significant part of his philosophical
legacy:
Nature,
by an absolute and uncontrollable necessity, has determined us to judge, as
well as to breathe and to feel; nor can we any more forbear viewing certain
objects in a stronger and fuller light, on account of their customary connection
with a present impression, than we can hinder ourselves from thinking, as long
as we are awake, or seeing the surrounding bodies, when we turn our eyes to
them in broad sunshine. Whoever has taken the pains to refute this total skepticism,
has really disputed without an antagonist, endeavored by arguments to establish
a faculty, which nature antecedently implanted in the mind, and made
unavoidable. My intention then in displaying so carefully the arguments of that
fantastic sect, is only to make the reader sensible of the truth of my
hypothesis, that all our reasonings, concerning causes and effects, are derived
from nothing but custom; and that belief is more properly an act of the
sensitive, than of the cogitative part of our natures… The skeptic still
continues to reason and to believe, even though he asserts that he cannot
defend his reason by reason; and by the same rule he must assent to the
principle concerning the existence of body, tho’ he cannot pretend by any
arguments of philosophy to maintain its veracity. (Ibid. Book I, Part IV,
Section II.)
I think that David Hume’s lofty
place in the Pantheon of great thinkers is assured not so much because
of his preference for a particular subject matter, as because with his choice
of this subject matter he has been able to fill an important “open space”
in an otherwise broken continuum of philosophical contemplations, providing
a healthy food offering for human thought, in which most commendable service to
humanity he has certainly excelled.
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