Fundamental Philosophy, Vol. I (of 2)

Let us examine these points, and we shall see that they are common to all philosophers with Descartes.

Why does Descartes wish to doubt of everything? Because he proposes to examine the origin and certainty of his cognitions, his whole knowledge; and therefore he cannot help supposing nothing to be true. If then he supposes anything, he does not examine the origin and motives of the certainty of everything, since he excepts that which he supposes to be true. He must suppose nothing to be true, that he knows nothing of anything; otherwise he cannot say that he examines the foundation of everything. Either there is no such philosophical question, although one is found in all books of philosophy, or else Descartes' method must of necessity be followed.

But in what does this doubt consist? Can it, rationally speaking, be a real and true doubt? No! that is absolutely impossible. Man does not, because a philosopher, destroy his nature; and nature is invincibly opposed to this doubt taken in a strict sense.

173. What then is this doubt? Nothing more than a supposition, a fiction; a supposition and fiction such as we make at every step in all science, and which, in reality, is only non-attention to a conviction of our own. Use is made of this doubt in order to discover the first truth on which our understanding rests; and this only requires a fictitious doubt: there is no necessity of its being positive, for it will evidently make no difference whether we really doubt of everything, admit absolutely nothing, or say: I suppose that I have nothing for certain, know nothing, admit nothing. An example will make this explanation more evident. Whoever knows the rudiments of geometry, knows that in a triangle, the greater angle is opposite to the greater side, and he is absolutely certain of the truth of this theorem; but if he propose to demonstrate it to another, or repeat the demonstration to himself, he abstracts the said certainty, and proceeds as though he had it not, in order to show that it is founded upon something.

In all our studies, at every step, we do the same. Such expressions as these are common: "This is so, it is evident; but let us suppose that it is not; what will be the result?" "This demonstration is conclusive, but let us set it aside and suppose that we have it not; how shall we demonstrate what we desire?" Arguments ad absurdum, so much in use in every science, more especially in mathematics, consist not only in abstracting what we know, but in supposing something directly contrary. "If the line A," says continually the geometrician, "is not equal to B, it is either greater or less: let us suppose it to be greater, etc." Thus to investigate truth, we frequently abstract what we know, and even suppose the contrary. Apply this system to the investigation of the fundamental principle of our cognitions, and Descartes' universal doubt will follow, in the only sense admissible at the tribunal of reason, and possible to human nature.

It is probable that the illustrious philosopher understood it in the same sense, although we must confess that his words are ambiguous. We cannot conceive what object he could have had in understanding it differently, supposing, as we do, that he had no other purpose than to pave the way for the investigation of truth. By his manner of expressing himself, he gave occasion to disputes, which greater clearness would have prevented.

As he did not express himself with sufficient clearness, so his adversaries did not press him with all the precision and energy possible. To settle this whole matter, it would have sufficed to ask him this question: Do you mean to say that, in commencing our philosophical investigations, there is a moment in which we really and actually doubt of every thing; or do you deem it sufficient to abstract certainty, and to suppose that we have it not, as is frequently done in other studies?

174. Descartes was like all reformers who are ruled by one idea, and express it so strongly as to seem to admit no other beside it. In their language every thing is absolute, exclusive. They anticipate the combat which they must sustain, perhaps already experience it, and so they concentrate all their strength on the idea whose triumph they propose, and lose sight of every thing else. It cannot be inferred from this that they have no others which notably modify the principal; but to oppose their adversaries, who say, "This is absolutely false," they assert that it is absolutely true. History and experience furnish innumerable examples of such exaggerations.

The dominant idea of Descartes was to demolish the philosophy which at that time reigned in the schools; and he gave it so rude a shock as to make the world tremble. See how he expressed his contempt for many called philosophers: "Experience shows that they who make profession of being philosophers are often less wise and less reasonable than they who never applied themselves to this study."[11 - Les Principes de la Philosophie. Preface, p. 13.]

175. The second part of Descartes' method consists in taking thought for the point of departure, and in declaring that in trying to doubt of every thing man finds a limit in the consciousness of his thought, his existence. This is evidently the phenomenon which remains in the mind of the observer after doubting of every thing else; at least he cannot doubt that he doubts, and consequently that he thinks; for it must be remarked that this is an argument which has always been used against skeptics, which is equivalent to Descartes' method, and establishes as an undeniable phenomenon a certainty superior to all sophisms, the consciousness of one's self.

When Descartes said, I think, he meant by this word every internal act, every phenomenon immediately present to the soul; he spoke not of thought taken in a purely intellectual sense, but included in it all that of which we have immediate consciousness. "By the word thought," he says, "I understand all that is done within us, in such a manner that we perceive it immediately by ourselves: this is why not only to understand, to will, to imagine, but also to feel, are here the same thing as to think. For if I say that I see, or that I walk, and thence I infer that I am; if I mean to speak of the action performed with my eyes or with my feet, this conclusion is not so infallible that I have no reason to doubt it; because it may be that I think I see, or walk, although I do not open my eyes or stir from my seat; for this sometimes happens when I am asleep, and the same might also happen even if I had no body; but if I mean to speak only of the action of my thought or of the feeling, that is to say, the knowledge that I possess, which makes it seem to me that I see, or that I walk, this same conclusion is so absolutely true that I cannot doubt it; because it relates to the soul, which alone has the faculty of feeling, or of thinking, in any other manner whatever."[12 - Les Principes de la Philosophie. 1ière. partie, N. 9.]

176. This passage shows very clearly Descartes' ideas; he destroyed every thing by doubt, excepting one thing which defied all his efforts, the consciousness of himself; and this consciousness he took for the basis, on which, with full certainty, he might build anew the edifice of science. Locke and Condillac did nothing else; they followed, indeed, a different path, but their point of departure was at all times the same. Locke says: "First, I shall inquire into the original of those ideas, notions, or whatever else you please to call them, which a man observes, and is conscious to himself he has in his mind; and the ways whereby the understanding comes to be furnished by them."[13 - Essay on the Human Understanding. Prologue.] "Since the mind, in all its thoughts and reasonings, hath no other immediate object but its own ideas, which it alone does or can contemplate, it is evident that our knowledge is only conversant about them."[14 - Essay on the Human Understanding. Book iv., Chap. I., § 1.] "Whether, to speak metaphorically," says Condillac, "we ascend even to the heavens, or descend into the abysses, we do not go out of ourselves, and it is always our own thought that we perceive."[15 - Essai sur l'Origine des Connaissances. Première partie, C. 1., § 1.]

177. All ideological labors commence then by establishing the fact of consciousness of our ideas; and it cannot be otherwise with respect to their certainty. Man, although he overthrow and destroy every thing, still encounters himself, the one who overthrows and destroys every thing. When he has gone so far as to doubt the existence of God, the world, his fellow-beings, his own body, he still, in the midst of this immense solitude, encounters himself. The effort to conceal himself from his own eyes serves only to render him more visible: he is a spirit to be killed by no blow, and rays of light flow from every wound inflicted on him. If he doubts that he feels, he at least feels that he doubts; if he doubts of this doubt, he feels that he doubts of doubt itself; thus, in doubting of direct acts, he enters into an interminable series of reflex acts, necessarily linked one with the other, and unrolled to the internal view like folds of a scarf which has no end.(18) (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER XIX.

VALUE OF THE PRINCIPLE. I THINK: ITS – ANALYSIS

178. We have already seen that Descartes' principle, considered as an enthymema, cannot aspire to be fundamental. In every argument there are premises and a consequence; and to be conclusive, the premises must be true, and the consequence legitimate. To say that an argument may be a fundamental principle, is a manifest contradiction.

But if we take Descartes' principle in the sense above explained, that is, not as an argument but as the declaration of a fact, the contradiction ceases, and it is a question, worthy to be examined, whether it merits the title of fundamental principle or not, and in what sense. We have already somewhat illustrated this matter, but not yet sufficiently cleared it up; we have made some preliminary remarks in order to show the state of the question, but have not yet completely solved it.

179. The proposition, I think, as we have remarked, expresses something more than merely thought, strictly so called: it embraces acts of the will, sentiments, sensations, acts, and expressions of all kinds which are realized within us; it includes all phenomena immediately present to our mind, and attested by consciousness.

Nothing that distinguishes between various acts and impressions can be a fundamental principle: such a distinction supposes analysis, and analysis requires reflection. We do not reflect without rules and objects already known; consequently, to admit classifications in the first principle, is to divest it of its character and to contradict ourselves.

180. We must not confound what is expressed by the proposition I think with the proposition itself. The thing itself and the form are here very different: the nature of the form may make us conceive ambiguous ideas of the thing itself: the thing itself is a most simple fact; the form is a logical combination, and includes very heterogeneous elements. This demands explanation.

The fact of consciousness, in itself considered, abstracts all relations; it is nothing but itself, leads to nothing but itself; it is the presence of the act or impression, or rather it is the act, the impression itself, which is present to the mind. There is no combination of ideas, no analysis of conceptions; when it comes to this latter, it leaves the territory of pure consciousness, and enters the objective regions of intellectual activity. But as language is to express the products of this activity, and as it is cast, so to say, not in the mould of consciousness, but in that of the intellect, it is impossible for us to speak without some logical or ideal combination. Were we seeking an expression of pure consciousness, unmixed with intellectual elements, we should seek it not in language, but in the natural sign of grief, joy, or some other passion; in this alone is it expressed spontaneously and uncombined with foreign elements, that something passes in our mind, that we are conscious of something; but the instant that we speak, we express something more than pure consciousness: the external world indicates the internal, the product of intellectual activity, its conception; and this involves a subject and an object, and therefore pertains to an order far superior to that of consciousness.

181. To demonstrate the truth of what we have just said, let us examine the expression, I think. This is a true proposition, and it may, without being in the least changed, be presented under a strictly logical form, I am thinking. Here we have a subject, a predicate, and a copula. The subject is I; that is to say, we at once find the idea of a being, the subject of acts and impressions, the possessor of an activity expressed in the predicate. This I is then presented to us as something far superior to the order of pure consciousness; it is nothing less than the idea of substance. We will analyze more at length what is contained under it.

We have, in the first place, the idea of unity: the I has no meaning, if it do not denote that something is one and identical, notwithstanding the plurality and diversity realized in it. The experimental unity of consciousness draws with it, as a rigid consequence, the unity of the being possessing it. This being is the subject; and in it are realized the variations without which it would be impossible to say I. We hold then that in so simple an expression the ideas of unity and its relation to plurality, of substance and its relations to accidents, are contained; that is, the idea of the soul, although expressive of a most simple unity, is, under the logical aspect, composite, and contains many things pertaining to the ideal order, and not to be found in pure consciousness. The idea of the soul, strictly speaking, although in a certain sense common to all men, is in itself highly philosophical, for it involves a combination of elements belonging to the intellectual order.

182. The predicate thinking is the expression of a general idea, comprehending not only all thought, but also all phenomena which immediately affect the mind. These phenomena, considered in what they have in common, under the general idea of present to the mind, are expressed in the word thinking.

The relation of the predicate with the subject, or the agreement of thinking with the soul, also expresses an analysis worthy of attention. We at once detect a decomposition of the conception of the soul into two ideas; that of the subject of various modifications, and that of thinking. Otherwise the proposition has no meaning, or rather its expression becomes impossible. The idea of subject involves the ideas of unity and substance, and that of thinking involves the idea of activity, or of passivity, so to speak, accompanied by consciousness.

183. To render the proposition possible, we must suppose the decomposition of the ideas to commence at some point, that is, either in the idea of the soul we find that of thinking, or in that of thinking we find that of the soul. Fixing ourselves in the soul, and abstracting thinking, we meet with the idea of subject, or of substance in general; and there, however much we cavil, we shall never find the idea of thinking. The soul in itself is not manifested to us; we know it by thought; in thought therefore we must fix the point of departure, not in the soul; wherefore in the above proposition, what is primitively known is rather the predicate than the subject; and of the two conceptions, that of subject has rather the character of a thing contained, than of a thing containing.

The soul by itself, so to speak, springs up with the presence of thought. If the intellectual activity is concentrated in search of its first basis, it finds it, not in the pure subject, but in its acts, that is, in its thoughts. These last are then the first object of reflective intellectual activity, its first element of combination, its first datum for the solution of the problem. Fixing its sight on this element, it discovers a unity in the midst of plurality, a being that remains the same through the ebb and flow of the phenomena of consciousness; and this identity is incontestably asserted by consciousness itself. The idea of the soul then is taken from that of thought, and consequently the subject springs from the predicate, rather than the predicate from the subject.

184. The thought from which we derive the idea of the soul is not thought in general, but thought realized, existing in ourselves. But this reality is sterile unless offered to the mind under a general idea; for it is evident that the soul does not come from one single act, since it is unity, the subject of plurality. To arrive at the idea of the soul we require unity of consciousness, and this we know only as we have experienced it, that is, so far as we perceive the relation of the one to the multiple, of a subject to its modifications.

Such elaboration is necessary to the production of so simple an expression as I think; and here we see how much reason there is to distinguish between the thing itself and the form, and how inconsiderately they act who confound things so different. Thus, from want of due analysis, they take in philosophy immense strides from one order to another, confound ideas and entangle matters.

185. To completely illustrate this matter, we will examine the relations of existence to thought; a very easy examination, if we bear in mind the observation just made.

It is certain that we conceive existence before thought: nothing can think without existing: existence is an indispensable condition to thought: to think and not to exist is a manifest contradiction. But what is first offered to our mind is not existence, but thought, and this not in the abstract, but determinate, experimental, or as the expression now is, empyrical. The idea of existence is general, includes all beings, and consciousness cannot commence with it. At one time we obtain this idea by abstraction; at another, it is a form pre-existing in our mind, not the first that occurs to us, or to speak more exactly, not the last point to be attained when we follow back the thread of our cognitions in order to discover their starting-point. This consciousness, when made objective, and when the conception which it offers is analyzed, presents to us the idea of existence as contained in itself.

Hence we infer that the therefore I exist is not, strictly speaking, a consequence of the I think, but the intuition of the idea of existence in that of thought. There are here two propositions per se notæ, as the scholastics say: the one general, the thinking is existing; the other particular, I thinking am existing. The first belongs to the purely ideal order, and is intrinsically evident, independently of all particular consciousness; the second participates of the two orders, the real and the ideal; the real, in so far as it includes the particular fact of consciousness; the ideal, in so far as it includes a combination of the general idea of existence with the particular fact; since thus only is the union of the predicate with the subject conceivable.

186. It will now be very easy to solve all the questions discussed in the schools.

First question. Does the principle I think depend on another? We answer with a distinction. If by this principle is meant the simple fact of consciousness, it evidently does not. For our understanding there is nothing prior to ourselves; whatever we know so far forth as known by us, supposes our consciousness; if we suppress it, we destroy every thing, and although we attempt to destroy every thing, it still remains indestructible, since it depends on nothing, presupposes nothing.

If by the principle I think is meant a proposition, it can only have proceeded from reasoning or analysis, and so cannot be the fundamental principle of our cognitions.

187. Second question. When the other principles are wanting, is this one also wanting? We must apply the same distinction here: as a simple fact? No! as a proposition? Yes! Deny every thing, even the principle of contradiction, and consciousness still subsists; but deny the principle of contradiction, and every proposition is destroyed, every combination becomes absurd: analysis, and the relation of the predicate with the subject, are unmeaning words.

188. Third question. Admitting the principle I think, can he who denies the others be reduced at least indirectly to truth? We again distinguish: you speak of reducing him either by reasoning or by observation; that is, either you wish to convince him by arguments, or else to turn his attention to himself, as is done with a man distracted, or one suffering mental derangement. The second is possible, but not the first. Whoever denies all principles, that of contradiction included, makes all argument impossible; in vain then will you reason with him. Let us see.

You think, one may say to him, at least you so assert, when you admit the principle I think. True. Then you must also admit the principle of contradiction. Why so? Because otherwise you could think and not think at the same time. Very well. But then you destroy your own thought. How? Is it not true that you think? Certainly. According to yourself it is possible that at the same time you do not think. I agree with you. Therefore, you destroy your thought; for if you do not think, the I think is destroyed, and, as all this is simultaneous, you destroy your own thought.