Showing posts with label awful puns. Show all posts
Showing posts with label awful puns. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Hume 'N' History

"Would you know the sentiments, inclinations, and course of life of the Greeks and Romans? Study well the temper and actions of the French and English" (VIII.I, p55).

"Should a traveller, returning from a far country, bring us an account of men, wholly different from any, with whom we were ever acquainted; men, who were entirely divested of avarice, ambition, or revenge; who knew no pleasure but frienship, generosity, and public spirit; we should immediately, from these cricumstances, detect the falsehood, and prove him a liar, with the same certainty as if he had stuffed his narration with stories of centaurs and dragons, miracles and prodigies" (55-56).



Here are two related topics of interest.

The first concerns the purpose of reading history. "Its chief use is only to discover the constant and universal principles of human nature" (55). We see a lot of history in PLS, and I have always thought this one of the, if the not the chief value (perhaps Brennan would contend that seeking truth in general is) for doing PLS and humanities in general. I think I could make a case against myself (if indeed I know myself well enough) and Hume that we are both out to know what we need to know, rather than just out to know in general. Anyway, Hume is invoking a similar principle (need-to-know) with the whole nature of enquiring into human understanding itself. And indeed, he says, "Its chief use..." Also, if we might as well study our contemporaries, why history? Presumably, we all think that we get a wider communication through history and literature, overcoming the alienating limits of time rather than only space.

Secondly, perhaps this second quote gives an imperfect example of what I mean when I say that Hume may be resigning himself to limits and then cursing what is beyond them. It is true that here the limits aren't as strict (and the knowledge not quite the same) as in past sections of the book, for he is talking about applying a human principle analogous to the constant conjunction or uniformity of nature. (As a further qualification, I do not really want to undermine his sense of custom or belief that establishes the connection between conjoined things in nature). I just want to point out that Hume is not open to all possibilities, and that he is very quick to reject what could be a possible ammendation to his limits. Should he be more open by his own standards?

This example can probably relate to miracles, as well as to Swift's horse land. Also, just now I looked at the seminar page and saw Andrew's headline. Sorry for any repitition.

Monday, March 2, 2009

Hume And Love

I felt kind of out-of-synch with the rest of the class today, and as we ended on kind of a 'downer' note today despite my optimism about Hume I feel compelled to explain myself a little, hopefully to someone's benefit.


There exists a tendency to think that Hume is kind of stealing away any hope for confidence or certainty in the world. John, especially, expressed this kind of distress which it's possible to take from Hume. But it doesn't have to be that way. This enquiry and our experiencing it isn't, to me, a cold separation of terms as with a scalpel, but instead it's more like a love story.


You know how in the Symposium there's the notion that you can't love something you already have? Well, I feel that when you think you have knowledge about something, you think you have the truth and so you aren't interested in truth anymore. Every new philosophy, book, or acquaintance is a potential enemy; every new idea presented to you must either be fit in with your current beliefs or summarily refuted. When you think you know something, it is expedient to run away from all new information, and to cower from (what I would call) truth, lest you fall prey to (what this person would call) deception or trickery.


But with the limits Hume places on human knowledge, you are deprived of possession of the truth. As a result you are free to love truth, and the things you formerly 'knew' are matters of belief. You can and ought to defend your opinions voraciously but if you perceive greater truth in some new argument, you can accept it without contradiction or shame. I perceive a great fear of being thrown into confusion or doubt among people who take pride in their knowledge (a la Descartes and the maelstrom). But if you are in love with truth, no confusion or doubt or new opinion can remove from you the joy of the seeking for truth in which you have engaged yourself. No change in belief can depress your emotions because it is your priority to be in love with truth, not to merely possess it. Loving the truth means confidence in belief, prudence (not reticence) in dealing with other beliefs, and a certain courage in dealing with new texts or ideas.


I'd even go so far to say that this love of truth is the entire point of PLS: to inject yourself with these books and these ideas, to let them really hit you, to temper yourself, test your mettle and see what emerges from the forge. It's my sentiment that what's so 'depressing' about Hume is that accepting what he's saying is to accept uncertainty. But if you give uncertainty with respect to knowledge a chance, you might find certainty with respect to love of truth to be much more challenging and rewarding.


If 'love' wasn't the right word to describe the seeking for truth, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have just made a fool/nerd of myself in front of people whose company I enjoy in class twice a week. I hope this benefited someone, or at least cemented their opinions by contrast with mine; and I hope this has made me and my apparent delight-in-lack-of-knowledge seem less, rather than more, crazy. If none of those succeed, at least here you can find a rationale for why Hume need not be paralyzing.

Hume-ility

Were our ignorance, therefore, a good reason for rejecting any thing, we should be led into that principle of denying all energy in the Supreme Being as much as the grossest matter.
--p.48, last paragraph of VII.I


It is not uncommon for 'humility' with respect to human knowledge to be supposed to consist of an assertion of knowledge of some other fact. For example, we questioned Bacon's supposed humility with regard to knowledge; Descartes's capacity for doubt found its bottom when he supposed his "clear and distinct perception" to be equivalent to knowledge. Pascal, I think, can be said to be nearer to Hume in this regard.


Whenever any object is presented to the memory or senses, it immediately, by the force of custom, carries the imagination to conceive that object, which is usually conjoined to it; and this conception is attended with a feeling or sentiment, different from the loose reveries of the fancy. In this consists the whole nature of belief.
--p.31, second paragraph of V.II


In re-imagining of human knowledge, Hume presents a system wherein one claims to know no more than one actually experiences. That which is usually considered to be knowledge ("I know the sun will come out tomorrow") is recognized, for Hume, to be belief ("I believe the sun will come out tomorrow"). I don't think, however, that in Hume's opinion this change would make the Annie song any less optimistic.


It seems to me like a reasonable presumption from Hume's philosophy would be to find it paralyzing: one is not, after all, supposed to "know" much of anything useful.


The only immediate utility of all sciences, is to teach us, how to control and regulate future events by their causes.
--p.51, second-to-last paragraph of VII.II


Cf. footnotes 5 and 8: Hume, however moderate (and occasionally pessimistic) the tone of this particular book, seems to believe that his philosophy can be of practical purpose. It seems to me that Hume is proposing that we do not need to presume to know as much as we often do presume to know in order to function. Belief, for Hume, appears to serve just that same purpose, with the added benefit of humility.


So much of this semester has been concerned with "throwing open the windows," with the search for Truth and the bounds of human knowledge. Hume, so far as I can see, approaches the question from an entirely new angle: "what can we know?" not in terms of "let's look at what exists" but rather "let's look at ourselves." How does Hume's redefinition of knowledge and belief fit in with the trends we've seen thus far? Is his philosophy blinding, paralyzing, and limiting, or is it empowering, honest, and keenly perceptive?


In all this, I hope we can get to the philosopher's-role-in-the-city question from the first part...