G. J. Mattey’s Notes on Hume’s Treatise, Book 1, Part 4, Section 7

Notes on Hume’s Treatise

by G. J. Mattey

Book 1
Of the UNDERSTANDING
PART 4
Of the sceptical and other systems of philosophy.

Sect. 7. Conclusion of this book.

The author has concluded his survey of the workings of the human understanding and is poised to examine the passions in Book II. However, before proceeding, he steps back to reflect on his results thus far, particularly on whether they might frustrate his desire to continue with the project of studying human nature scientifically.

The problem which the author wrestles in this section is quite unlike any that had appeared in the literature to date. There had been writings on skepticism, e.g. by the sixteenth century French philosopher Montaigne, which questioned the power of human reason. But the skeptical crisis of the author stems from the unique conclusion he drew regarding the pre-eminent role of the imagination, and the limited role of reason, in the operations of the human understanding.

1. The author’s goal in the Treatise is to provide a comprehensive view of human nature, and yet the meditations in Part IV of Book I suggest that the goal is unattainable. To begin with, he has made many errors in the past, which undermines his confidence in his future judgments. It makes him even more apprehensive when he considers (in light of the results of Part IV) that the faculties he would use in the investigation are wretched, weak and disorderly. Finally, he believes that it is impossible to correct these faculties. This gives rise to a severe melancholy which feeds on itself. It seems that the voyage of discovery he has undertaken can go no further, which for the moment makes the author “resolve to perish on the barren rock, on which I am at present, rather than venture myself upon that boundless ocean, which runs out into immensity.”

2. The author’s melancholy is increased when he turns outward and sees that he is quite alone on his barren rock. The view that he has proposed is not shared by others. It is opposed to their systems, and it can engender nothing but hostility on the part of those who have felt the sting of his skeptical arguments. [This turned out to be prophetic on the author’s part. James Beattie’s 1770 Essay on the Nature and Immutability of Truth in opposition to Sophistry and Scepticism contains the following condemnation.

3. The author has left the well-trodden path of common opinion and wants to go forward on an entirely new basis. How could he tell whether his new path leads to the truth? Here, the author touches on a classical skeptical problem: even if one has found the truth, how can one tell that what he has found is truth rather than error? One would need a criterion of truth, but what would this be? [Since ancient times, skeptics have argued that there is no way to determine what such a criterion of truth might be. The author does not cite these arguments, but he proceeds as if there is no criterion.] In the absence of a criterion, all he has to go on is the intensity of the ideas he has of things. As he had argued in Part III, a belief is nothing more than a very lively idea. The author has such ideas, and therefore, beliefs, but he cannot tell whether these beliefs are true or not. He can, however, explain why his ideas have the intensity they do. This he attributes to “a strong propensity to consider objects strongly in that view, under which they appear to me.” This propensity is due to experience of conjunctions of objects in the past and to the resulting habit, which determines him to expect that those conjunctions will be repeated. There is no such tendency to form lively ideas in the absence of experience and habits. This tendency, or propensity, is the basis of our assent to argument and in general of the expansion of our thought beyond the impressions that are present at a given time. It is memory which enlivens ideas which we take to be “true pictures of past perceptions.” Our belief that present and past impressions refer beyond those impressions to an object is also due to the process of enlivening. And beliefs about objects of which we have no impressions requires enlivening, as does assent to argument. The author summarizes the central role of the imagination in all expansion of our cognition beyond present impressions: “The memory, senses, and understanding are, therefore, all of them founded on the imagination, or the vivacity of our ideas.”

4. The primacy of the imagination comes at a high price: the imagination induces us to form beliefs that are directly contrary to each other. On the one hand, the imagination produces judgments of cause and effect. On the other hand, it leads us to believe that bodies continue to exist when not perceived by the senses. Both of these operations of the imagination are equally natural and necessary in the human mind. Yet, at least in some cases, they are directly contrary.

[Section 4 concludes that there is a direct and total opposition betwixt our reason and our senses; or more properly speaking, betwixt those conclusions we form from cause and effect, and those that perswade us of the continu’d and independent existence of bodies. In Section 2, the author had argued that we are persuaded that bodies have a continued and independent existence only because the imagination creates a fiction of the existence of unperceived bodies. In Section 4, causal reasoning is used to show that that colors, sounds, etc. are only perceptions in the mind. A principle of justified causal reasoning is that like effects have like causes. In the case of colors, for example, the like effect of two perceptions of the same color has a like cause. But this cause cannot be the object, since objects with different colors might be perceived as having the same color by perceivers in different circumstances. However, the author has argued that if colors, sounds, etc. are only perceptions in the mind, then so are the so-called primary qualities of bodies, in which case all the qualities of bodies are perceptions in the mind. But because perceptions do not have a continued and distinct existence, neither do bodies.] So the operations of the imagination leads to conflicting beliefs. “How then shall we adjust these principles together? Which of them shall we prefer? Or in case we prefer neither of them, but successively assent to both, as is usual among philosophers, with what confidence can we afterwards usurp that glorious title, when we thus knowingly embrace a contradiction?”

5. This conflict induced by the imagination might be excused if the other parts of our reasoning yielded success.

[In the remainder of the paragraph, the author will recount the results of Section 14.] Unfortunately, success is not to be found in [a key part of] our reasoning, either. “When we trace up the human understanding to its first principles, we find it to lead us into such sentiments, as seem to turn into ridicule all our past pains and industry, and to discourage us from future enquiries.” We seek with the greatest curiosity for causes and effects, reasoning from what is immediately present the mind, to the fundamental principles tying cause and effect together, and thence to the “efficacious quality, on which the tie depends.” But, to our great disappointment (given the centrality of this reasoning to our investigations of the world), the connection is to be found merely in ourselves, in the determination of the mind to make a transition. “Such a discovery not only cuts off all hope of ever attaining satisfaction, but even prevents our very wishes; since it appears, that when we say we desire to know the ultimate and operating principle, as something, which resides in the external object, we either contradict ourselves, or talk without a meaning.”

6. These deficiencies in our reasoning do not show up in common life. Nor, when we engage in causal reasoning, do we recognize its futility, in that we know no more about the connections between the most ordinary events than between the most extraordinary. It is the imagination which shields us from these shortcomings, producing an illusion of success. It is tempting to give in to the illusion and continue reasoning as we ordinarily do. But “this question is very difficult, and reduces us to a very dangerous dilemma.” On the one hand, we might give in to the imagination and assent to every trivial suggestion it makes. But this is not acceptable, since such suggestions are often in conflict with one another, and we would be embarrassed in believing what we do because they would lead us into so many errors, absurdities, and obscurities. Flights of the imagination present the greatest danger to reason that there can be, and nothing has been more responsible for the errors of philosophers. [For examples of the influence of such flights of fancy on philosophers, such as horror of a vacuum, see Section 3.]

7. The upshot of the first horn of the dilemma seems to be that we should resolve to reject all trivial suggestions of the imagination. In that case, we would leave the understanding to itself, without aid from the trivial suggestions of the imagination. (By understanding here, the author means the more general and more establish’d properties of the imagination, so that the imagination is not rejected altogether on this option.) But great danger lies here as well: if we actually succeeded in carrying out this resolution, this would be attended with the most fatal consequences. For as was shown above, probable reasoning when acting alone would destroy itself, with the outcome that nothing at all would be probable, whether in philosophy or even in common life.

It is only a “singular and seemingly trivial property of the fancy,” that saves us from the total skepticism that would result from the disappearance of probabilities. This property of the imagination is, that it is more difficult to have vivid ideas of “remote views of things” than “more easy and natural” views of things. [Our imagination is progressively strained as we try to imagine the outcome of our checking our probable reasoning, checking the outcome of that check, and so on through the higher orders of checking.] It might seem that because probable reasoning is frustrated when our reasoning becomes “refin’d or elaborate,” we should as a policy refrain from elaborate reasoning altogether. But the author advances two reasons against this. First, there is nothing about this particular property of the imagination that distinguishes it from any other. If we allow it to influence us, then we should, by parity of reasoning, allow any other such property to influence us. [But it has already been seen that for the most part, singular fancies lead to absurdity. So we would be leaving the door wide open for the wildest flights of fancy if we were to give up elaborate reasoning in favor of the comfort of the imagination.] Second, the reason for abandoning elaborate reasoning would itself be a conclusion reached by elaborate reasoning, which is sufficiently refin’d and metaphysical. The dilemma, then, is insoluble. Condemnation of refined reasoning leads to absurdity, and acceptance of refined reasoning undermines all human understanding. The choice is described by the author as being between “a false reason and none at all.” [In abandoning refined reasoning, we would denounce reason as false, and in accepting refined reasoning, we would at least potentially allow reason to self-destruct, in which case there would be none at all.] In response to the dilemma, the author throws up his hands in indecision. “For my part, I know not what ought to be done in the present case.” On the other hand, he knows what actually happens. We rarely think about this dilemma, or if we do, we easily forget it, and it leaves but a small impression behind it. Even though elaborate or refined reasoning has little effect on us, we cannot thereby establish a rule that we ought not to be influenced by it, which is manifestly contradictory. In fact we are rarely influenced by it [due to the fact that this rule would be established by the use of elaborate reasoning].

8. But now the author retracts the descriptive part of his previous observation. Even though he holds that “very refin’d reflections have little or no influence upon us,” he admits that in the present case, while he is engaged in reflections about his reliance on his imagination, they have a profound influence on him. The problem is that the author’s view of the “manifold contradictions and imperfections of human reason” is very intense. It makes him “ready” to reject every belief he has and to regard no opinion as more probable than any other. [Note that the author does not say that he actually does reject his beliefs, even though he admits that he cannot rank any opinion as more probable than another.] In this condition, he cannot answer crucial questions about his nature, his future state, and his actions. He has reached the low point. “I am confounded with all these questions, and begin to fancy myself in the most deplorable condition imaginable, inviron’d with the deepest darkness, and utterly depriv’d of the use of every member and faculty.”

9. This darkness, however, soon gives way to light. All that need be done to rescue the author from “the most deplorable condition imaginable” is that he relax “this bent of mind” or divert himself through social activities, such as dining or playing backgammon. Not only is he freed from his low condition, but he is loath to return to it, because the meditations that lead to it now “appear so cold, and strain’d, and ridiculous.”

10. Nature inevitably prevents the author from sliding into skepticism by bringing him back to a state of lazy belief “in the general maxims of the world.” The effect of the “splenetic humor” in which the author finds himself when torturing his brain with the paradoxes he has just elaborated is to tempt him to forsake philosophical reasoning altogether, to burn his books. Giving up philosophy shows “most perfectly my sceptical dispositions and principles.” To attempt to discover the deep truths of existence is a futile waste of time. It is certainly foolish to reason or believe anything, but if the author is to play the fool, my follies shall at least be natural and agreeable. When he is inclined to do something, he will rightly resist his own philosophical striving against that inclination, and he will no more go to those dark places to which his assessment of his cognitive faculties has hitherto led him.

11. The author endorses skepticism, both in philosophizing and in life. “If we believe, that fire warms, or water refreshes, ’tis only because it costs us too much pains to think otherwise.” He might be inclined to philosophize once again, but it should be from skeptical principles. He gives us a prescription for how we ought to philosophize: not in a way that leads us into gloom, but in a way that will stimulate us and satisfy our curiosity. [There follows what has come to be known as the title principle.] Where reason is lively, and mixes itself with some propensity, it ought to be assented to. Where it does not, it can never have any title to operate upon us.

12.Thus, when the author is tired of socializing, and is by himself, taking a walk or in his room, he is drawn toward a number of issues under dispute. How ought human beings to behave? What is the best form of government? What causes the passions which stimulate human behavReidSent.pdfior? [The first two questions are treated in Book III, Parts 1 and 3, and Part 2, respectively. The third question is the topic of Book II.] The author notes that he feels uneasy in making moral, aesthetic, and epistemic judgments without knowing upon what principles I proceed. He feels an ambition to contribute to the instruction of human beings in matters where even the learned are stuck in such a deplorable ignorance. Moreover, he has a certain ambition to make a name for himself by answering them. While reflecting on these matters, the author feels that he would lose out on the pleasures he would find in trying to answer the questions he has posed, and this is the origin of my philosophy.

13. A further advantage of philosophizing (beyond satisfying curiosity and a desire for fame) is that the very impotence of human reason that the author has documented means that it can cause little harm. The author contrasts philosophy to superstition, which can do great damage because of its strong influence on the mind. “Philosophy . . ., if just, can present us only with mild and moderate sentiments and if false and extravagant, its opinions are merely the objects of a cold and general speculation, and seldom go so far as to interrupt the course of our natural propensities.” This is not to say that philosophy cannot interrupt the “course of our natural propensities.” There is the case of the Cynics, who based their extravagant behavior on “reasonings purely philosophical.” Their philosophical reasonings led them to approach the excesses of religious fanatics. Still, “generally speaking, the errors in religion are dangerous; those in philosophy only ridiculous.”

14. Some people will never be philosophers, as their thoughts do not rise above their day-to-day affairs. It is actually a good thing for them that they will not. But it would be useful if philosophers could share in their “gross earthy mixture,” because they are instead inclined to behave as if made up of “fiery particles.” That is, the imagination generates agreeable hypotheses that philosophers happily embrace, but which are useless for the conduct of life. The later Books will be more earthy than most philosophy has been, dispensing with wild hypotheses. In them, the author would like to produce a system “which if not true (for that, perhaps, is too much to be hop’d for) might at least be satisfactory to the human mind, and might stand the test of the most critical examination.” It might be objected, on skeptical principles, that because philosophy has always produced “chimerical systems,” the author’s system is itself doomed to fail. But the author defends the project from this kind of skeptical challenge. We really have not been at philosophy for a very long time (two thousand years, with some long interruptions). Moreover, the object of his investigations, human nature, has been neglected. Perhaps the author can bring it into fashion, thus recovering from his spleen. He will philosophize in a “careless” manner, which is “more truly skeptical” than the conduct of one who rejects philosophy out of doubt. “A true sceptic will be diffident of his philosophical doubts, as well as of his philosophical conviction; and will never refuse any innocent satisfaction, which offers itself, on account of either of them.”

15. The author allows that he sometimes gives in to a propensity to be certain in particular points, according to the light, in which we survey them in any particular instants. This propensity is so natural that it is easier to give in to it when we have conducted an exact and full survey of an object than to give up philosophical inquiry. We may under such conditions even use such non-skeptical and even immodest language as “’tis evident, ’tis certain, ’tis undeniable.” But these expressions are not to be taken literally; instead, they should be seen as revealing the author’s sentiments at the moment. The author does not wish to be dogmatic, which is unbecoming to anyone, and much more so to a skeptic, and he reiterates that such expressions were extorted from me by the present view of the object.

In paragraph 27 of the Abstract, the author recognizes the skepticism inherent in his philosophy, which highlights “the imperfections and narrow limits of human understanding.” He explains how belief is a mere sentiment based on experience. “Our author insists upon several other sceptical topics; and upon the whole concludes, that we assent to our faculties and employ our reason only because we cannot help it. Philosophy would render us entirely Pyrrhonian, were not nature too strong for it.”

As the imagination plays no role in the account of the human understanding given in the Enquiry, the specific skeptical crisis (and its solution) recounted here is not mentioned. Instead, Hume discusses in Section 12 various forms of skepticism. Skepticism concerning matters of fact may be popular, based on the weakness of reason. This kind of skepticism is destroyed by the fact that we use reasoning throughout our everyday lives. The scholars may find it persuasive, and Hume admits that it cannot be refuted intellectually. “But as soon as they leave the shade, and by the presence of the real objects, which actuate our passions and sentiments, are put in opposition to the more powerful principles of our nature, they vanish like smoke, and leave the most determined sceptic in the same condition as other mortals.” There is a philosophical reason for skepticism, however, which resembles the reason given in the present Section, except for its lack of reference to the imagination. Causal reasoning is based on constant conjunction, and there is no rational basis for inferring from constant conjunction to anything beyond it. “[N]othing leads us to this inference but custom or a certain instinct of our nature; which it is indeed difficult to resist, but which, like other instincts, may be fallacious and deceitful.” Hume admits that this argument is forceful, or rather, an exposition of the weakness of reason, including the skeptic’s own. He then objects to the “excessive” (or “Pyrrhonian”) skepticism that would result from the abandonment of causal reasoning, on the grounds that it is useless, and its adoption would lead to the extinction of human life. But he adds that nature makes sure that this does not happen. “And though a PYRRHONIAN may throw himself or others into a momentary amazement and confusion by his profound reasonings; the first and most trivial event in life will put to flight all his doubts and scruples, and leave him the same, in every point of action and speculation, with the philosophers of every other sect, or with those who never concerned themselves in any philosophical researches.” This kind of skeptic will admit in the end that his skepticism only shows the “whimsical condition of mankind,“ who must reason, act, and believe, although we are unable to provide a solid basis for these activities or remove objections to them. Hume recommends an “ACADEMICAL philosophy” more “mitigated” than the Pyrrhonian, which has real value. One kind of more mitigated skepticism is to avoid dogmatism, and the other is to refrain from pursuing our inquiries beyond what we can know a priori concerning relations of ideas and what we can know empirically about matters of fact.