Incorporeal class differences

With actual hereditary power largely mitigated, it seems that when we now speak of persons being “aristocratic” or “proletarian”, in a looser sense, we mean to say it of their incorporeal differentiæ.

• According to his knowledge, someone is called aristocratic for having much education and learning, and proletarian for having nothing of the sort.

• According to his taste, someone is called aristocratic for having a preference for the ‘fine arts’, ‘high’ fashion, ‘refined’ cuisine, and so on; or proletarian for lacking a taste for these things, and enjoying what the common man enjoys.

• According to his habits, or attitudes, someone is called aristocratic insofar as he considers other people to be ‘beneath’ him, and adheres to certain rules of etiquette; and someone is called proletarian insofar as he is easily approachable by anyone, and adheres to a different and more common conduct.

The aristocratic and proletarian tendencies in these three respects are all distinct, and separable, of course. Someone may have an aristocratic education but proletarian tastes, and his tastes in different things may be differently refined.

This division seems to exhaust all applications of these words to human personalities, which lends more credence to the original division, of the incorporeal human differentiæ, being sound.

Incorporeal human differences

Since form is universal, all differences between particulars are material. And in human beings, all differences between persons are caused by their bodily nature.

But it is not true that all differences between human beings are themselves bodily. Although the fact is caused entirely by their having different bodies, human beings do nevertheless have different minds.

The differences between their bodies are well-known and, well, visible – height, weight, shape, color, sex, and so on. But I have never seen an enumeration of the differences between their minds, which is why I came up with this one.

I believe that they are exactly these three: knowledge, tastes, and habits; all of which are taken in a broad sense. They are explained as follows:

• Knowledge here includes not only universal knowledge, but also different memories and sense experiences.

• Tastes are likes and dislikes of any kind, generally; which is to say, desires.

• Habits, or attitudes, are any enduring dispositions to act in a certain way. When they are good, they are called virtues, and when they are bad, vices.

They may be divided according to the personal differences in human actions, taken generally:

• Human beings seek different ends with their actions, because, having their bodies in different locations, they have knowledge or awareness of different things.

• Human beings assign different priorities to their ends, which is because their bodies have different objective affinities, or tastes.

• Human beings are disposed to seek their ends through different means, which differences constitute their habits.

Since this division is clearly exhaustive, I believe that my enumeration was sound.

Conspiracy theories

It is difficult to argue against this kind of paranoia, which seems endemic to human psychology. Couldn’t those people really be communists or terrorists or witches in disguise? How can you be sure?

— Gary Lachman, The Quest for Hermes Trismegistus (quote added 2023-08-19)

I summarize the conclusions of a lovely conversation with my best friend, Kate Nelson, almost six months ago, about conspiracy theories.

0. Contents

1. The neutral sense
2. Insufficiency of the neutral sense
3. The negative sense
4. Notes

1. The neutral sense

First, we had some problems with the meaning of the term, conspiracy theory.

This was because, at first, I was understanding conspiracy theories in what I will now call the neutral sense:

• the neutral sense: a conspiracy theory is a theory that explains some facts by supposing that there was a secret agreement between some people; this secret agreement is called the conspiracy.

I did not even think twice about defining conspiracy theories in this way. This definition is merely an expansion of what the words seem to mean: “conspiracy theories are theories about conspiracies”. There is nothing mysterious about it.

I call this the neutral sense because it is not intrinsically good or evil. That is, there is nothing intrinsically bad about supposing that there was a secret agreement between some people at some time; it all depends upon how plausible the supposition is, and for what reasons it was made.

The neutral sense is, therefore, sometimes adopted by conspiracy theorists themselves; many have no shame in calling themselves conspiracy theorists, or claiming to believe conspiracy theories. I know some of them myself. As Olavo de Carvalho used to say, the alternative to the Conspiracy Theory of a strange event is the Pure Coincidence Theory, and sometimes the latter is much less reasonable. Murray Rothbard was also quite happy to speak of “conspiracy theory”, or “conspiracy analysis”, as only one among other kinds of theories and analyses, which may be varyingly acceptable depending on their aptness to the particular event explained.

The neutral sense certainly applies, of course, to many famous historical conspiracy theories, such as the various conspiracy theories about the Jews, the Jesuits, the Bilderbergers, the Rockefellers, and the Rothschilds. All of these theories were certainly about conspiracies within (or between) these groups; and no major conspiracy theories seem to have lacked conspiracies, so that the neutral sense at least correctly identifies a necessary condition of them.

2. Insufficiency of the neutral sense

Kate was talking about conspiracy theories. She said that there had been a rapid increase in the spread of conspiracy theories, and that this was a problem.

So I told her that, supposing that there has been such an increase – I often grant such empirical propositions as suppositions, because I don’t follow news – I was not sure that it was a problem. What’s wrong with people believing in more conspiracies? Did she perhaps mean false conspiracy theories? But then the problem would be with their falsehood – or was there something especially bad about the falsehood of claims about conspiracies? I did not know what she meant.

Then she told me her criticisms of conspiracy theories, and sure enough, they simply do not apply to the neutral sense of the term. She clearly meant something else. Her criticisms were as follows:

• First, conspiracy theories are false, at least in the way she meant it. (She actually only meant this as a clarification, since she thought that their being harmful was something quite apart from that.)

• Second, conspiracy theories always teach – by definition, she thought – that everyone else is “brainwashed”, or “out to get you”, which leads to various unhealthy behaviors, and so, in turn, to broken families and relationships.

• Third, if “political” conspiracy theories spread widely, they may lead significant percentages of the voting population to be completely out of touch with the reality of politics, and to instead believe in strange, unsubstantiated entities.

• Fourth, conspiracy theories typically postulate that particular, often vulnerable, groups, are involved in conspiracies – ethnic groups, religious groups, immigrants from a particular country, etc. – which is, of course, bad, for reasons that need not be said.

Kate’s criticisms clearly applied to various conspiracy theories that she had in mind. As examples, she mentioned the flat Earth, Pizzagate, QAnon, and certain anti-vaccine conspiracy theories. Her criticisms did seem to apply to the ones that she was thinking of, and it did seem to her that it was because of something they had in common, which she actually mentioned quite immediately, but I took a while to understand.

I took a while to understand because I clung to the neutral sense of the term, as I had explained it. As I told her, most conspiracy theories, in the neutral sense, are about select, secretive groups, such as could easily have conspired – the Freemasons, the Bilderbergers, and so on. They wouldn’t generally teach you to think that some average person is “brainwashed” or “in on it”, and even the anti-Semitic theories do not tend to include every single Jew in the world. As such, they change little about your view of reality and of other people you meet. Certainly, conspiracy theories, in the neutral sense, were not as harmful as she thought conspiracy theories were.

Kate had a lot of patience explaining her meaning to me, and despite my misgivings about her usage, I paid close attention. Her explanation is what gives me what I now define as the negative sense of the term.

3. The negative sense

I call it the negative sense, of course, because it means something intrinsically bad. It is as follows:

• the negative sense: a conspiracy theory is a theory that meets both of these conditions:

• (a) the conspiracy postulate: the theory explains some facts by supposing that there was a secret agreement between some people; this secret agreement is called the conspiracy. (i.e., it is a conspiracy theory in the neutral sense)

• (b) the widespread lies postulate: the theory discredits all reports that oppose it by supposing that there are many widespread lies about it; lies which were, at least initially, spread intentionally, as a means to further the interests of the conspiracy. This supposition may be called the widespread lies postulate.

As Kate had put it, all conspiracy theories, in the negative sense, posit that some group is intentionally manipulating people into believing something that is wrong for some particular nefarious purpose – and they are obviously insane.

As such, they push a cultish sort of logic. Anything that appears to be evidence against the theory is planted by “them,” and you’re a fool and a sheep if you believe it, whereas any tea-leaf of “evidence” in favor of the theory is proof, and you’re a fool and a sheep if you don’t accept it.[1]

This is all because of the widespread lies postulate, which they make in addition to conspiracy theories in the neutral sense. Since the widespread lies postulate leads to an irrational way to think, it intrinsically tends to making people “out of touch with reality”, justifying her third criticism, and to some extent the first – which she did not, at any rate, mean as a criticism, but as an additional part of the definition. The second criticism follows straightforwardly from the supposition that lies are widespread, and the fourth criticism is made possible by it.

We then discussed the possibility that some philosophical theories, without necessarily making the conspiracy postulate, might still make something like the widespread lies postulate – I was thinking about certain Marxist ideas, whereby opposing theories to the Marxist are thought to be mere apologia for the ruling class. Kate seemed to think that, even if they do make that postulate, they are not as dangerous, since their claims are generally not directly about empirically observable facts, and it is more dangerous to think irrationally about those. Such philosophical theories are, instead, about the more abstract explanations of those facts. So it is really the conjunction of the postulates that makes conspiracy theories, in the negative sense, so dangerous.

4. Notes

[1] Although, for editorial purposes, I think it works better to paraphrase than to directly quote, this paragraph, and the preceding one, retain much of Kate’s original wording in her text messages, out of respect for her style. Because of this, I have kept her usage of the word “evidence” as a concrete noun, although I have forbidden myself from using that word in that way.

Hume’s required medium

Instead of continuing my commentary of Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature,[1] I have decided to turn instead to his Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, beginning at section 4.

Due to the foreignness of Hume’s terminology to my own, I believe that if I were to write in-depth comments about his first fifteen paragraphs, I should then spend much time parsing his words, only to then find that his meaning, if interpreted with due charity, is something quite plain and undeniable, and at any rate irrelevant to my project. So I skip to the question at the end of ¶16, which I find curious enough to answer, although, at any rate, the answer was implicit in what I said before.[2]

In the context of our inferring, from some new object’s looking like bread, that it will nourish us, Hume asks:

These two propositions are far from being the same, I have found that such an object has always been attended with such an effect, and I foresee, that other objects, which are, in appearance, similar, will be attended with similar effects. I shall allow, if you please, that the one proposition may justly be inferred from the other: I know in fact, that it always is inferred. But if you insist, that the inference is made by a chain of reasoning, I desire you to produce that reasoning. The connexion between these propositions is not intuitive. There is required a medium, which may enable the mind to draw such an inference, if indeed it be drawn by reasoning and argument. What that medium is, I must confess, passes my comprehension; and it is incumbent on those to produce it, who assert, that it really exists, and is the origin of all our conclusions concerning matter of fact.

OK. Since he asked, I will produce the reasoning. But first, since I quoted from Hume – even for such a short passage – I must make some clarifications to dispel difficulties with his wording:

• First, of course, what I will produce is not the way in which everyone always derives one proposition from the other, but the way in which it may be done validly, which might happen much less often than invalidly.

• Second, I have no pretension that the reasoning between these two propositions “is the origin of all our conclusions concerning matter of fact” – I have no idea why Hume thought that it should be.

• Third, I think that, obviously, no “object” of experience is “attended with” any “effect” always and everywhere, but rather, that it is attended with that effect in a range of contexts. Hume himself must have known this, since he made such a big deal (in ¶2) about it not being logically necessary “that the sun will rise tomorrow” – even the least sceptical philosopher must admit that it will only rise if there are no impediments in place, and we all only differ about how certain we are that there will be no such impediments tomorrow. I want to make this more explicit, so I will add amendments about the context of the observation to both propositions.

Alright, so, the reasoning goes more or less like this:

• Proposition 1. (First Premise) I have found that such an object in such a context has always been attended with such an effect.

• Clarification 1: By “such an object”, I mean a collection of appearances which are precisely such as allow me to understand a certain form.

• Clarification 2: By “such a context”, I mean a different collection of appearances, by which I understand different forms.

• Proposition 2. (Second Premise – Medium) The forms which I understand through these appearances, when I perceive such an object in such a context, are all such as to which I can ascribe the motions which produce the effect.

• Clarification 3: By “forms”, I mean the objects of understanding, as defined in my metaphysics. The relevant fact about them here is, that the same conjunctions of forms are always connected with the same motions, which fact is called final causality.

• Proposition 3. (Conclusion) I foresee, that other objects, which are, in appearance, similar, will be attended with similar effects in similar contexts.

• Clarification 4: By “similar objects”, I mean objects through whose appearances I can understand the same form that I can understand through this object’s appearances, insofar as I can ascribe their motions to it.

• Clarification 5: By “similar contexts”, I mean contexts through whose appearances I can understand the same forms that I can understand through this context’s appearances, insofar as I can ascribe their motions to them.

This could probably be restated more directly, but this will have to do. The way I have chosen to lay it out has the advantage of giving Hume’s (modified) propositions at the beginning and end, with the medium being in the middle, as the name would suggest that it should be.

While ¶17 implies that Hume is passing from this question into a more “positive” argument, he is really just repeating the question in different ways. “May I not clearly and distinctly conceive, that a body, falling from the clouds, and which, in all other respects, resembles snow, has yet the taste of salt or feeling of fire?” You can certainly imagine it; you may be able to conceive of it; you probably have no reason to expect it. If, through the appearance of those other respects, you would be able to perfectly understand the form of snow, then it follows that the taste and feeling do not belong to the nature of snow as you understand it, and that in such a situation, you would have simply found a unique type of snow – one that must have been, intelligibly, brought about by its particular context.

Hume is right in saying, in ¶19, that all, or almost all, propositions about experience are only probable judgments; but this is not because it is impossible to deduce effects from causes. It is rather because we usually do not take care to ascertain the true nature of what appears to us. We do not try to get apodictic knowledge that a car is a car before we get in it; it is sufficient to us that it probably is a car, and that we have no reason to expect otherwise. But we are certain that, if it is a car, then it has an engine, and the power of spinning its wheels in certain conditions, and whatever else we ascribe to the nature of a car.

When Hume says, later on in ¶19, that “all our experimental conclusions proceed upon the supposition, that the future will be conformable to the past”, I take him to be speaking rather obliquely about the fact of final causality, which I mentioned above in Clarification 3. The proof of this fact, as it was given in my metaphysics, is that it is a necessary condition of the fact that any apparent objects are understood at all. It may be consistently denied only by denying that apparent objects are understood, and therefore remaining at the Parmenidean theses about being and non-being; but such a conclusion would break the First Rule of Philosophy. So, a philosopher is compelled, qua philosopher, to accept the alternative.

In ¶20, Hume says:

Nothing so like as eggs; yet no one, on account of this appearing similarity, expects the same taste and relish in all of them. It is only after a long course of uniform experiments in any kind, that we attain a firm reliance and security with regard to a particular event. Now where is that process of reasoning, which, from one instance, draws a conclusion, so different from that which it infers from a hundred instances, that are nowise different from that single one?

I suppose that we might not form this expectation from the first appearances of eggs because, at that point, we do not yet know the nature of eggs. But after we know it, then whenever we see what we understand to be an egg, in what we understand to be an appropriate context, then we know exactly what range of tastes to expect from it. Usually, that is rather too much investigation about a small meal, and we are satisfied with probability about all these understandings; and it really may take many experiments to find which inessential appearances are best relied upon for a probable judgment. (For instance, these.)

I see nothing of interest in the paragraphs 21 through 23, so I pass over them.

Notes

[1] Following a preambular post to my commentaries in general, I have written commentaries of sections 1.1.5 and 1.1.6 of Hume’s Treatise.

As explained in the preambular post, the purpose of my commentaries is to find a plan of topics around which to write my opinions about metaphysics. Not finding them useful for this purpose, I skipped the first four sections of the Treatise, as well as the first three sections of the Enquiry.

[2] While I tend to avoid repetition of my own doctrines – which avoidance is the very reason for this blog – I could not help being engaged by Hume’s question. Generally, I find it difficult to look at rhetorical questions without trying to think of answers for them. So I wrote this post partly as an exercise, and I find this reformulation of my opinions to be interesting enough to be posted. If I ever bring my opinions into more systematic form, though, I should find some way to avoid such repetitions.

Stoicism

You either have passion or reason. This was the core teaching of the Stoics, as I see it, and it was fundamentally right.

I have believed this for a while; and so it was that, in one of my earliest posts, a haphazard treatment of the passions,[1] I spoke of each passion in connection with an intellectual mistake to which I thought it was wont to lead, and ended the post by describing some mistakes which I thought arose from them in combination. It was at that time that I noticed that all mistakes arise from passion, and I was trying to trace them all to their source. Were we unburdened by flesh, we should never err.

Of course, without the body, we should never judge at all about apparent things. If we understand anything through appearances, this is partly because appearances are not all wrong. But all mistakes arise from them, and no truth comes truly from them, but rather from the forms, which are understood rather than sensed. It happens that most appearances are in accordance with understanding; but no reasoning being is authorized, by the natural law, to follow them. “Do not believe the Devil, even when he speaks the truth.”[2]

Most particularly, when Thomas Aquinas spoke of the passions in the narrow sense, he defended the conclusion that they are not all morally evil on these exact grounds. I quote at length:

On this question the opinion of the Stoics differed from that of the Peripatetics: for the Stoics held that all passions are evil, while the Peripatetics maintained that moderate passions are good. This difference, although it appears great in words, is nevertheless, in reality, none at all, or but little, if we consider the intent of either school. For the Stoics did not discern between sense and intellect; and consequently neither between the intellectual and sensitive appetite. Hence they did not discriminate the passions of the soul from the movements of the will, in so far as the passions of the soul are in the sensitive appetite, while the simple movements of the will are in the intellectual appetite: but every rational movement of the appetitive part they call will, while they called passion, a movement that exceeds the limits of reason. Wherefore Cicero, following their opinion, calls all passions “diseases of the soul”: whence he argues that “those who are diseased are unsound; and those who are unsound are wanting in sense.” Hence we speak of those who are wanting in sense of being “unsound.”

On the other hand, the Peripatetics give the name of “passions” to all the movements of the sensitive appetite. Wherefore they esteem them good, when they are controlled by reason; and evil when they are not controlled by reason. Hence it is evident that Cicero was wrong in disapproving of the Peripatetic theory of a mean in the passions, when he says that “every evil, though moderate, should be shunned; for, just as a body, though it be moderately ailing, is not sound; so, this mean in the diseases or passions of the soul, is not sound.” For passions are not called “diseases” or “disturbances” of the soul, save when they are not controlled by reason.

As Thomas notes, both schools had the same fundamental opinion, which is that sensitive movements are only good when controlled by reason. And as a matter of philosophical distinctions, I follow Thomas’s divisions and wordings on this point; passions may sometimes be controlled by reason, and in that case, they are not morally evil. There are good passions, and strictly speaking, you may have passion with reason. I have spoken in these same terms in my own post on moral psychology. They are the clearest, when speaking technically.

The Stoic terminology, however, is more closely in accordance with a common way of speech. For we do not say that an action was moved by passion, except when it produces apparent movements in the actor which may be ascribed, by an observer, to passion. But if such movements were in accordance with reason, they could not be so ascribed.

Passion is only in accordance with reason when it has been examined by reason and is strictly in accordance with it, and therefore, leads to an action which is exactly the same as that to which reason would lead, by itself, in the first place. Insofar as a man is visibly passionate, he sinks into his animal nature, and acts irrationally. Just as no display of emotion is admissible in philosophical speech, no display of emotion is admissible in rational action, generally. A man that visibly acts from emotion is following an unexamined sensitive desire, which is immoral.

I say all of this without departing one inch from the doctrine that I quoted from Thomas, that passions are not immoral in themselves, but may be controlled by reason and so be good. It is only a clearer and more qualified way to say it. And it is more clearly expressed, to the common man, by using the Stoic terminology: you either have passion or reason. Which all understand, correctly, to mean: insofar as you show emotion, you are irrational, and therefore immoral.

Using Thomas’s wording to the common man obscures this. People start thinking that showing emotion is moral and right, as long as the emotion is, to some extent, in accordance with its object. And yes, it is definitely and undeniably better to act from sensitive desire for good things, and hatred for evil things, than from the reverse inclinations, which would be disordered. But if you act from those passions, rather than from the reason which sanctions them, and if therefore you are visibly passionate, you have done wrong by your nature, and to that extent, steered away from God.

There are other ways in which I find the Stoic school attractive. Since national and ethnic affiliation seems to me to be a mere passion, Stoic “cosmopolitanism” makes a lot of sense to me. I have also written on my enjoyment of “paradoxes”, which I share with the school. And I am more inclined than average to take seriously such libertarian theses as, “a coerced man is deprived of the opportunity to act morally”,[3] and, “incitement is not a real crime”, which I believe come from a fundamentally Stoic understanding of morality.

Also, I just tend to find the Stoics themselves very enjoyable to read. I have read Seneca’s Letters, and they are awesome; so are Epictetus’s Discourses, insofar as I have read them – only some sections, admittedly. Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations are also alright, though they seem overrated nowadays.

Notes

[1] In the beginning of this blog post, I speak of passions in the broad sense, including all bodily movements of which we are aware, and therefore including also the senses, as I did in my old blog post. After quoting Thomas Aquinas, who spoke of them in the narrow sense, I follow that usage. It is only in the narrow sense, of course, that passions can cause actions, at any rate – but even in the broad sense, they can affect judgments.

[2] This saying is said by various Christian writers in relation to the literal Devil, and demons in general. See, for instance, Athanasius’s Life of St. Anthony, §25–26 and §33; the second section of this discourse by John Chrysostom; and Erasmus’s Paraphrase on Mark regarding Mark 1:25 – a footnote to this edition of which attributes similar sayings to the Greek fathers Theophylact, Lyra, and Euthymius.

[3] I have given an answer to this thesis, to some extent, in my post on virtue. It was defended by various authors, and I believe it to be the core premise of the fundamental argument for liberalism – as I had said, rather obliquely, in my old post about my political opinion.

While that old post still shows many similarities with my current opinions on a broad level, I have elected to retract it. It is worth noting, though, that in that post, I had said that “I delight in how unintuitive my opinions are” – much as the SEP, in its article about Stoicism, which I had not read at the time, said that “it seems clear that some Stoics took a kind of perverse joy in advocating views which seem so at odds with common sense”. My similarities of personality with the Stoic school run deep, and so it is no wonder that another of my old posts, which is also retracted, was written about what I saw as an Epicurean kind of personality – and which I think I had thought of as opposed to my own, much as the Epicurean school was opposed to the Stoic.

I do not, any longer, find much delight in speaking “paradoxically,” by the way. Back then, I did it mostly so that my opinions would catch people’s attentions, and I could start conversations with them. But not only did that not work very well – since it turns out, disappointingly, that you can often “get away with” saying a lot, and people often only take exception to what you don’t expect them to –, I am also no longer interested in starting conversations with most people. I suppose it is fitting that, while I was new to philosophy, I was eager to argue with everyone, much like Socrates; and I am glad that I did this, since such arguments, when I had them, were often delightful, and a genuine help to my growth as a person and the development of my thoughts. Your mileage may vary, of course.

Assumption of infallibility

I present here a somewhat more formal version of the famous “assumption of infallibility” argument from J.S. Mill’s On Liberty, with the conclusion that “it is never rational for a man, or government, to silence discussion of some opinion.”

I first shared it with others in 2020-07-23, in a Facebook group that is no longer active. At that time, I often made such versions of philosophical arguments I had found and shared them with that group, so that, with the all the premises distinguished and numbered, people could state their objections more precisely in the comments. It was a great learning experience.

This is probably my best work from that period, in terms of how much easier it is to follow than the corresponding original text. Five premises are asserted, and the conclusion is supposed to be deduced from them. After the formalization, I list the textual support that I had gathered for each premise, all of which was taken from the second chapter of Mill’s work. This is all unchanged from how it was first written in 2020, since I do not wish to read Mill’s work again to think more carefully about the quality of the formulation. After this, there will be some comments on the argument.

The argument

1. Every man well knows himself to be fallible. It is irrational to deny this.

2. Given that we are fallible, we are only justified in assuming one of our opinions as true for the purposes of action if we allow others complete liberty of contradicting and disproving it.

3. (a) A man, or government, who silences discussion of some opinion because he thinks it is false, is acting upon his belief that the opinion is false, and his belief depends upon reference to the opinion. (b) A man, or government, who silences discussion of some opinion for some other reason than it being false, such as it being useful to silence it, is also acting upon a belief of his which depends upon reference to the opinion the discussion of which he is silencing, such as, namely, that it is useful to silence it. (c) In general, all men who silence discussion of some opinion do so for some reason which depends upon reference to the opinion the discussion of which they are silencing.

4. People do not have complete liberty of contradicting and disproving an opinion if the discussion of it is silenced.

5. People also do not have complete liberty of contradicting and disproving a belief which depends upon reference to some opinion if the opinion which is referenced by the belief is silenced.

6. We may therefore infer, from #3–5, that whenever a man, or government, silences discussion of some opinion, he does so for some reason which others do not have complete liberty of contradicting and disproving. But to act in this way is to do what was described by #2 as incompatible with acknowledgment of his own fallibility. Therefore, from all the preceding statements, we may conclude that whenever a man, or government, silences discussion of some opinion, he denies his own fallibility, and therefore acts irrationally. Which is to say, it is never rational for a man, or government, to silence discussion of some opinion.

Textual support for the premises

Support for statement #1:

Unfortunately for the good sense of mankind, the fact of their fallibility is far from carrying the weight in their practical judgment, which is always allowed to it in theory; for while every one well knows himself to be fallible, few think it necessary to take any precautions against their own fallibility, or admit the supposition that any opinion, of which they feel very certain, may be one of the examples of the error to which they acknowledge themselves to be liable. (§2¶4)

Support for statement #2:

There is the greatest difference between presuming an opinion to be true, because, with every opportunity for contesting it, it has not been refuted, and assuming its truth for the purpose of not permitting its refutation. Complete liberty of contradicting and disproving our opinion, is the very condition which justifies us in assuming its truth for purposes of action; and on no other terms can a being with human faculties have any rational assurance of being right. (§2¶6)

Support for statement #3(a):

First: the opinion which it is attempted to suppress by authority may possibly be true. Those who desire to suppress it, of course deny its truth; but they are not infallible. They have no authority to decide the question for all mankind, and exclude every other person from the means of judging. To refuse a hearing to an opinion, because they are sure that it is false, is to assume that their certainty is the same thing as absolute certainty. All silencing of discussion is an assumption of infallibility. Its condemnation may be allowed to rest on this common argument, not the worse for being common. (§2¶3)

Support for statement #3(b), statement 4, and statement 5:

It is also often argued, and still oftener thought, that none but bad men would desire to weaken these salutary beliefs; and there can be nothing wrong, it is thought, in restraining bad men, and prohibiting what only such men would wish to practise. This mode of thinking makes the justification of restraints on discussion not a question of the truth of doctrines, but of their usefulness; and flatters itself by that means to escape the responsibility of claiming to be an infallible judge of opinions. But those who thus satisfy themselves, do not perceive that the assumption of infallibility is merely shifted from one point to another. The usefulness of an opinion is itself matter of opinion: as disputable, as open to discussion, and requiring discussion as much, as the opinion itself. There is the same need of an infallible judge of opinions to decide an opinion to be noxious, as to decide it to be false, unless the opinion condemned has full opportunity of defending itself. And it will not do to say that the heretic may be allowed to maintain the utility or harmlessness of his opinion, though forbidden to maintain its truth. The truth of an opinion is part of its utility. (§2¶10)

There is no textual support for statement #3(c), but I think that it is both implied and required. (Or rather, this is what I thought when I first wrote this, almost two years ago.)

Discussion

Few people said anything in the original group thread. In the poll that I made about which premises people disagreed with, #4 was the most popular to be doubted, which shocked me. As I said in a comment written the day after the thread, “Seriously? #4 should be the least controversial here. It is almost a definition.”

Alexander Brown’s paper

In a different thread – actually written before, in 2020-07-05 – I had expressed my heartfelt disagreement with Alexander Brown’s 2010 paper about the argument. It is supposed to defend Mill’s argument, but it denied premise #5 at the end, which I thought to be important. The result, I thought, weakened the argument and made it make less sense. I quote my summary and comments about it from the time:

Alexander Brown [...] discusses various interpretations of the argument. He concludes that not only is all silencing of discussion an assumption of infallibility, but also, silencing of discussion is a necessary condition for an assumption of infallibility to have been made, in Mill’s sense. He also concludes that such an assumption might be made even if censorship is undertaken without a judgment that the belief being censored is false, but with only a judgment that it is useful to suppress it, as in “Thomas Scanlon’s case of a government that acts against a misanthropic inventor who wishes to broadcast his household recipe for nerve gas on television.” Combining two formulæ given in the paper, it may be defined thus:

To make an assumption of infallibility is to feel sure either

(1) that one is right about the truth or falsity of an opinion or

(2) that one has a moral right to suppress an opinion (because of the utility of suppressing that opinion, or because of some form of democratic mandate, for example)

and to attempt to silence public discussion of that opinion on the basis of that feeling. The first case is called a ‘first-order’ assumption of infallibility, since it stems from a judgment about the belief itself being censored, while the second case is called a ‘second-order’ assumption of infallibility.

[...]

I think Mill’s argument is weakened by the denial, at the end of the paper, of the idea that one cannot judge second-order beliefs about an opinion if the opinion itself is being censored. The textual support for the inclusion of second-order assumptions – the claim that “there is the same need of an infallible judge of opinions to decide an opinion to be noxious, as to decide it to be false, unless the opinion condemned has full opportunity of defending itself” – indicates to me that Mill did hold this idea, and I think the argument does not make sense without it.

Without this idea, the argument does not make sense against a government that makes a “second-order assumption of infallibility” about some belief and does not make any attempt to silence contradiction of the second-order belief, such as one that silences denial of the Holocaust, believing that it is useful to do so, but does not silence discussion about whether it is useful to censor denial of the Holocaust – an example discussed at the end of the paper. The government is then acting upon an opinion which everyone has “complete liberty of contradicting and disproving”, and is therefore justified. Unless they really do not have this liberty if the first-order opinion is being censored, it then follows that one kind of “assumption of infallibility”[, the “second-order” kind,] does not make the mistake of denying human fallibility, which was supposed to be the core of the argument, and the reason for the name.

At the time, I felt strongly enough to also e-mail Alexander Brown about it; understandably, I got no reply.

My opinion about the argument

I still think that the argument, as it stands in my old presentation of it, is valid, and possibly sound. The most contentious premise, of course, is the statement #2, which is Mill’s interpretation of what human fallibility means. I accept it, and the rest of the argument, in a limited sense, as follows.

A belief which is “assumed true for the purposes of action” is almost always a probable judgment, i.e., not fully certain. Such a probable judgment, by its nature, does not represent certain knowledge of its object, and may be improved in that respect. So, I would act against the improvement of my own knowledge if I were to deny to others, who may even possibly have superior knowledge about the matter, the possibility of correcting me about it. Acting in this way would seem to be morally wrong, since knowledge is the perfection of man’s rational nature. I could still have no such qualms, however, about silencing a logically incoherent opinion, since pure reason cannot fail, and it is impossible to practically live as though it could.

I think that Catholics may agree with the entire original argument and still support such venerable Church institutions as the execution of heretics, and the Index of Forbidden Books. This may be done if they interpret the Church’s dogmas as being not “one of [their own] opinions”, as premise #2 requires, but rather one of God’s opinions, which are always infallibly correct, and may be “assumed true for the purposes of action” even if no one may discuss them. The Pope does not irrationally assume his own infallibility, but rather accepts it on faith in God, who cannot lie or make mistakes.

Censorship of all opinions other than dogmas would still remain proscribed by the argument. It is to be noted that the argument is concerned, in any event, with the censorship of opinions, and such as may be acted upon at that, so that it does not seem that the argument could ever be used against the censorship of, say, offensive language, or raunchy fiction. This seems to constitute the bulk of censorship, and with the censorship of heresy also excluded, the argument is left with a very limited practical scope.

Human nature

The reader who would form a just estimate of the reasonings of these volumes, cannot perhaps proceed more judiciously, than by examining for himself the truth of these principles, and the support they afford to the various inferences interspersed through the work.

— William Godwin, Enquiry, Summary of Principles

Ethics, as was shown, is supposed to be deduced from human nature. What, then, is human nature?

0. Contents

1. Methodological excursus
2. Postulates
2.1. Rationality and autonomy
2.2. Individual animality
2.2.1. Senses
2.2.2. Sensitive desires
2.2.3. Passions
2.2.4. Vegetative and other powers
2.3. Social animality
2.3.1. Relationships in general
2.3.2. Possible kinds of relationships
2.3.3. Voluntary relationships
2.3.4. Innate relationships, and authority
2.3.5. Human reproduction
2.3.6. Knowledge inequality

1. Methodological excursus

Too many books on ethics leave human nature implicit, simply stating various rights and duties and saying vaguely that they are rooted in human nature. Sometimes they are more specific, but even then, you would have to piece the author’s anthropology from the various rights and duties that he derives from it – much of it never seems to be mentioned outside of ethical demonstrations.

Because of this, the suspicion duly arises that the author is thinking backwards – that he is starting from a certain collection of moral rules that he wants to defend, and then figuring out some reason – often vague or specious – to say that they are natural to mankind after all. Since abduction is forbidden in philosophy, this method would be opposed to philosophy, and would rather constitute poetry.

Sometimes, the authors explicitly use poetry in place of philosophy – that is, they write thought experiments, where they imagine men acting in a supposed ‘state of nature’. Then, if the imaginary experiment seems to show some principle at work, and if the things imagined sound realistic, they think themselves to have found a universal law of nature.

But, of course, imagination is forbidden in philosophy too. A thought experiment could illustrate your conception, but never constitute it.

To avoid all such suspicions, I will make explicit my concept of human nature, as I have understood it from the relevant appearances. In the future, every ethical proposition which I attempt to demonstrate in this blog will be demonstrated through reference to one or more of the principles shown here. No new principles, different from the ones written here, will be introduced as belonging to ‘the human nature’ as a whole. The nature of particular human body parts, however, remains undefined, and I may define it in the future, with new principles peculiar to each part.

One benefit of this is that, if I have made a mistake in my conception, my readers may find this out at the outset, before any ethical demonstrations have been made. I am only one human being, trying my best to observe myself and other human beings, and I may err. That said, I have tried to compose my concept using only what I believe to be very basic, common, and old notions about human nature. They are ones which I believe to be sound, and I take responsibility for the judgment that they belong to human nature; but I also take comfort in my belief that, if I err, I err with mankind. If any of my principles should be disproved, of course, my demonstrations will also be shown to be unsound.

2. Postulates

I accept the traditional idea that man is a rational animal. But I think that this is not an essential definition, which would mean that all rational animals must be men. Human beings, besides being rational, are a particular kind of animals, in ways that I think are metaphysically and ethically relevant.

If there were other rational animals, then, they might not have every single right and duty which I ascribe to human beings.

Nevertheless, even if it is not our specific difference in the logical sense, rationality is still our “highest” and most ethically relevant property, as was shown. It does belong to us by nature in some way.

While I do not dare to attempt a new definition, the following sketch of human nature will exhaust the properties which I find fitting to ascribe to it.

2.1. Rationality and autonomy

Human beings are rational. By this, I mean that they have reason, or intellect. This is the ability, or power, to understand forms, define and divide them, make judgments about them, and deduce conclusions from those judgments. Because of this, human beings have rational desire, which is the desire for knowledge, and therefore for being, generally.

Human beings are also autonomous agents, or free actors, by which I mean that they have free will. As explained before, free will is essentially characterized as the ability to moderate irrational desires and follow rational ones. Without rational desire, and the power to make it apparent, which is the free will, human nature could not be understood as rational.

Since human beings are the only rational parts of the material world, they rightfully have dominion over external things, or property, as was shown.

Following a modern convention, this blog will routinely refer to the human powers of intellect and will as constituting the soul, whereas all other motions will be said to come from the body. This may confuse some traditional metaphysicians; more on this here.

2.2. Individual animality

Human beings are animals, by which I mean only that they are animate and sensitive, having the ability to contain within themselves the efficient and formal causes of their own motions.

This means little without a characterization of human animal powers, which I shall provide next. This section will cover only the human animal powers which I do not immediately find relevant to the consideration of human beings in society, wherefore I titled it “individual”.

2.2.1. Senses

First, human beings have senses, or sensitive powers, which are powers that allow them to perceive appearances. I admit of all the senses that are in common usage.

The external senses include sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch; the internal senses include the common sense, imagination, the estimative faculty, and sensitive memory. There are other senses, which are not usually as relevant. I mean all of these terms in their common meanings, and I do not find it useful to define them.

2.2.2. Sensitive desires

Second, human beings have sensitive desires, which are desires for sensible things. The power of having sensitive desires is the sensitive appetite, as may be contrasted with the rational appetite, which is the ability to have rational desire.

The sensitive appetite is sometimes distinguished into concupiscible and irascible; the former, also called concupiscence, includes desires to seek what is sensibly pleasant, and to avoid what is unpleasant or painful.

The irascible appetite includes desires to seek what is useful for obtaining something sensibly pleasant, and to avoid what is dangerous because it will lead to something painful; these desires incline us to strive and fight for sensible goods that are difficult to preserve or to attain.

Some typical sensitive desires are hunger, thirst, and sexual desire; other sensitive desires don’t tend to have names, such as the desires for warmth or sleep.

2.2.3. Passions

Third, human beings have passions. While all bodily motions of which human beings are aware, including the senses, may be called passions in a general sense, a narrower sense includes only those motions which are caused by the sensitive appetite, and may also be called emotions. Those passions are sensitive desire itself, pleasure, pain, sorrow, anger, hatred, and compassion. Besides the sensitive desires, which were just explained, I will now define the other passions.

Pleasure is the body’s awareness of the fulfilment of some sensitive desire. Joy, which is the soul’s awareness of the fulfilment of rational desire, is also sometimes called a passion, but this is improper, since it is caused by the rational appetite rather than the sensitive.

Pain and sorrow are the body’s awareness of the appearance of evil. Evil, generally, is a defect in a material thing which makes its appearance more difficult of being understood through its form; in the human being, it is something which would prevent the proper functioning of body parts. Pain is the appearance of evil to the senses, and therefore belongs only to evils afflicting a human being’s own body; sorrow, while also bodily in origin, is caused by a judgment of the intellect regarding some object of sensitive desire.

Hatred, or aversion, is a sensitive desire for something which is opposed to something that is currently apparent, and, therefore, a desire for that apparent thing to disappear. Hence, the proper object of hatred is evil, in the sense just defined.

Anger, properly speaking, differs from hatred in that it is only directed against the perceived injustice of a particular person, and therefore creates a desire that that person be punished.

Compassion, or empathy, is the body’s instinctive awareness, by way of a kind of ‘matching’, of the passions of other animals, including other human beings. This instinct causes a sensitive desire for the apparent good of those animals for which we feel compassion.

I believe that love of other human beings, or of other animals generally, is not completely a passion, but a composite of rational desire for the good of the other, a.k.a. goodwill, and of compassion. This composite is distinct from sexual desire, and completely separable from it; when they exist together, this is what is called “romance”.

Goodwill tends to cause compassion, and, when examined and found to be in accordance with reason, compassion will cause goodwill as well. So it usually makes more sense to speak of love than of either of its components.

2.2.4. Vegetative and other powers

Fourth, and least relevant here, human beings have the so-called vegetative powers, i.e., the powers of metabolism, growth, and reproduction. Since reproduction is very relevant to the consideration of human beings in society, it will be covered in §2.3.5, below.

Human beings also have motor powers; they have arms and legs and such. And they have the power to speak and communicate. As said in the beginning, I intend to define particular human body parts as they become relevant. This sketch only covers what I think belongs to the human being as a whole.

While property in general is derived from the rationality of man, private property, or individual appropriation, exists because of our animal nature. Since human beings have passions and senses, they are not always fully rational; because of this, they may have irreconcilable disagreements about what to do with material objects. Since material objects can not be used for conflicting purposes at the same time, property rights must be assigned, as was shown.

As was also shown, rational assignment of property rights requires the right of self-ownership, which is each human being’s property right over his own body; this will be relevant in later sections.

2.3. Social animality

I will now consider human beings in society, which means, in relationships of various kinds with each other. I will define and divide relationships, and postulate the properties of human nature which create special kinds of relationships.

2.3.1. Relationships in general

By relationship I mean the fact of two human beings seeking the same end ‘coordinately’, i.e., by means of at least one of them being allowed by right, in certain conditions, to control property which the other owns.

2.3.2. Possible kinds of relationships

Accordingly, all possible human relationships may be divided into four kinds, as follows.

According to the end which they seek, relationships may be divided into autotelic and heterotelic. A relationship is autotelic when it seeks the whole good of its constituent persons as its end; it is heterotelic when instead it seeks, as its end, some particular good.

According to their effect upon property, relationships are either equal or unequal. They are equal when the relevant property is owned in common, with no priority between persons; they are unequal when the will of one person has priority over that of the other in decisions about what to do with the property.

These two divisions yield four possible kinds of relationships, viz., the equal autotelic, unequal autotelic, equal heterotelic, and unequal heterotelic.

2.3.3. Voluntary relationships

Voluntary relationships are entered into by the consent of all parties. Since nothing in nature compels anyone to enter any of them, they may exist within any of the four possible kinds.

An equal autotelic voluntary relationship is called a friendship. It is, objectively, the best possible kind of human relationship, since each party receives the greatest benefit that the other can give; it is peculiar to rational animals.

Perfect friendship would occur when two human beings have the same knowledge, which causes them to love each other. Since they have the same knowledge, they have the same plans, so they do not enter into conflicts about what to do with any property. So, between themselves, perfect friends would own all things in common.

Since it is impossible for two human beings to have exactly the same knowledge, there are no perfect friendships in the world. But some relationships approach very nearly to that ideal, so they are called friendships by analogy with that.

An unequal autotelic voluntary relationship is one of voluntary submission. It occurs when two persons love each other, but they recognize that one of them is in some respects wiser and more knowledgeable. The inferior person then agrees, partly for his own good, to submit to the superior’s judgment about those things, and the superior, therefore, effectively controls the inferior’s property regarding them. Since the superior loves the inferior, he will try to teach him what he knows, so that eventually, if conditions are favorable, voluntary submission will become friendship.

An equal heterotelic voluntary relationship, or democratic society, is a relationship entered for a particular purpose, such as business, and in which some property, set apart for the purpose, is put into the common control of all parties. If not all parties involved are perfect friends with each other, this allows for unsolvable conflicts over property to arise, possibly leading to violence. Because of this, democratic societies are contrary to reason, and all heterotelic relationships ought to be unequal.

An unequal heterotelic voluntary relationship, or hierarchical society, is a relationship entered for a particular purpose, such as business, and in which some property, set apart for the purpose, is owned by all parties, but one of them has decision-making priority about it for as long as the relationship lasts. This includes all businesses which are organized hierarchically.

2.3.4. Innate relationships, and authority

Besides voluntary human relationships, there are also innate human relationships, that is, relationships which someone can enter by being born. Those relationships are created by particular properties of human nature which will be explained in the following sections.

In innate relationships, a natural circumstance causes a particular adult person to have control over, love for, and a presumption of superiority in knowledge over, the newborn person. Since this circumstance is created by nature, these things exist by right, and so, the new person is born into an innate kind of unequal autotelic relationship, becoming the inferior of the adult. The adult, becoming his superior, is then said to have authority.

Authority, therefore, gives the superior person the right to, for any good purpose, control the inferior’s property, including the inferior’s body, as well as to be obeyed by the inferior; and it also makes the superior responsible for the inferior’s material welfare and virtuous development.

The inferior is still the owner of his body and property, and although authority may override this for an objectively good purpose, it may not do so for a bad one, which remains an infringement. So, it remains true that no human being is ever the rightful owner of another.

2.3.5. Human reproduction

Reproduction, as it happens in humans, is the source of two natural passions as well as two special kinds of human relationships, marriage and filiation, which together constitute the society called the family.

First, human beings are born particularly helpless, having no knowledge and little physical strength. Parents also have, by nature, especially strong compassion for their children, which property is called the passion of parental love. These natural human properties create the authority of parents over children, and the innate submission of children is called filiation.

Second, human beings reproduce sexually. This is the source of sexual desire, which is a distinct passion, and separable from love. Since sex naturally results in children, it is naturally sought within a voluntary heterotelic relationship, called marriage, which is meant for the purpose of raising the children that result from the sexual act. Since equal heterotelic relationships are contrary to reason, marriage is naturally hierarchical, but nothing in nature makes it necessary that the man, rather than the woman, always be the head of it.

2.3.6. Knowledge inequality

Since human beings are material, and enter the world at different locations in space, they all have different knowledge. Further, some human beings may have a great preponderance, in knowledge, over others. The possibility of such human beings, who may be called sages, or the wise, if actualized, would make it advantageous that all others enter into voluntary submission to them.

Further, it would make it possibly advantageous for God to grant such sages authority over all human beings born in a certain area. This area would be called a state, and the authority of its wise ruler(s) would be called its legitimacy.

It is unclear how precisely God would grant this authority, if he ever did; but it would have to be through some sensible sign that a certain sage, who manifestly has the military means to exercise authority, also has a presumption of superior knowledge over others in the area, and responsibility for them. Nothing other than God could grant this.

After it were given, though, no sensible sign of state authority would have to remain; a legitimate state would, intelligibly, continue to be legitimate until it underwent manifest substantial change.

The human natural property that legitimate states are possible is what I would mean by the traditional phrase that “man is a political animal”. Although political in ancient Greek philosophy referred more to a natural tendency to organize into cities (poleis), in much of modern philosophy it refers to coercive states, which I do believe to be, in certain possible circumstances, compatible with human nature.

I know of no grounds in philosophy or experience to believe that any of the currently existing states are legitimate, or are not. Rationally, non-Catholics may either suspend judgment or take certain facts, such as the apparent beneficial (or not) nature of existing states, as probable indications of their legitimacy (or illegitimacy). Catholics, however, ought to believe on grounds of papal authority that none of the currently existing states are legitimate.

David Hume’s tables

In the old days (one supposes) when the philosopher, labouring by lamp-light in his study, came to this point in his argument, he set down his pen, and looked around for an object in the real world to interrogate. Very commonly that object was the nearest one to hand: his writing-table. ‘Table,’ he said, ‘how do I know that you exist, and, if you do, how do I know that my concept, table, represents your real existence?’ The table would look back without blinking, and interrogate the philosopher in its turn. It was an exacting exchange, and according to which one was the victor in the confrontation, the philosopher would inscribe himself as idealist or a materialist. Or so one must suppose from the frequency with which tables appear.

— E.P. Thompson, The Poverty of Theory

I was much amused by the above quote, which was pointed out to me by a friend. This led me to take notice of the quotations which I shall give below. Together, they support the thesis that, if there really was such a fascination with tables among modern philosophers as E.P. Thompson described, then the works of David Hume must have been a major source for it.

(Addition from 2023-10-08: One later philosopher who made notable mention of tables was Bertrand Russell, in Chapter 1 of his 1912 book The Problems of Philosophy. David Bostock’s 2012 book Russell’s Logical Atomism, p. 116, describes Russell as holding the “extreme view that I never perceive such things as tables.”)

0. Table of contents

1. A Treatise of Human Nature
2. An Abstract of a Book Lately Published
3. A Letter from a Gentleman to His Friend in Edinburgh
4. An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding
5. Other works

1. A Treatise of Human Nature

In what follows, references will be given by book, part, section, and paragraph, with the paragraph number given separately, since some editions don’t give it. So §1.2.3, ¶4 will refer to Book 1, Part 2, Section 3, paragraph 4. All quotes under this section are from the Treatise, but I will also write “Treatise” into each reference to make it easier to scroll through.

The table before me is alone sufficient by its view to give me the idea of extension. This idea, then, is borrow’d from, and represents some impression, which this moment appears to the senses. But my senses convey to me only the impressions of colour’d points, dispos’d in a certain manner. If the eye is sensible of any thing farther, I desire it may be pointed out to me. But if it be impossible to shew any thing farther, we may conclude with certainty, that the idea of extension is nothing but a copy of these colour’d points, and of the manner of their appearance. (Treatise, §1.2.3, ¶4) 

When [the mind] considers the dye as no longer supported by the box, it can not without violence regard it as suspended in the air; but naturally places it on the table, and views it as turning up one of its sides. (Treatise, §1.3.11, ¶11)

To begin with the question concerning external existence, it may perhaps be said, that setting aside the metaphysical question of the identity of a thinking substance, our own body evidently belongs to us; and as several impressions appear exterior to the body, we suppose them also exterior to ourselves. The paper, on which I write at present, is beyond my hand. The table is beyond the paper. The walls of the chamber beyond the table. And in casting my eye towards the window, I perceive a great extent of fields and buildings beyond my chamber. From all this it may be infer’d, that no other faculty is requir’d, beside the senses, to convince us of the external existence of body. (Treatise, §1.4.2, ¶9)

My bed and table, my books and papers, present themselves in the same uniform manner, and change not upon account of any interruption in my seeing or perceiving them. (Treatise, §1.4.2, ¶18)

’Tis easy to observe, that tho’ bodies are felt by means of their solidity, yet the feeling is a quite different thing from the solidity; and that they have not the least resemblance to each other. A man, who has the palsey in one hand, has as perfect an idea of impenetrability, when he observes that hand to be supported by the table, as when he feels the same table with the other hand. (Treatise, §1.4.4, ¶13)

That table, which just now appears to me, is only a perception, and all its qualities are qualities of a perception. Now the most obvious of all its qualities is extension. The perception consists of parts. These parts are so situated, as to afford us the notion of distance and contiguity; of length, breadth, and thickness. The termination of these three dimensions is what we call figure. (Treatise, §1.4.5, ¶15)

It has been objected to the system of one simple substance in the universe, that this substance being the support or substratum of every thing, must at the very same instant be modify’d into forms, which are contrary and incompatible. The round and square figures are incompatible in the same substance at the same time. How then is it possible, that the same substance can at once be modify’d into that square table, and into this round one? I ask the same question concerning the impressions of these tables; and find that the answer is no more satisfactory in one case than in the other. (Treatise, §1.4.5, ¶25)

When I view this table and that chimney, nothing is present to me but particular perceptions, which are of a like nature with all the other perceptions. This is the doctrine of philosophers. But this table, which is present to me, and that chimney, may and do exist separately. This is the doctrine of the vulgar, and implies no contradiction. There is no contradiction, therefore, in extending the same doctrine to all the perceptions. (Treatise, appendix)

These other passages of the Treatise were not quoted because, while they also mention tables, the mention does not use tables as an example of a perception: §1.4.5, ¶11; §2.1.3, ¶5; §2.1.10, ¶2; §2.2.5, ¶17; §2.3.8, ¶3; §2.3.10, ¶8; §3.2.3, ¶10, note 75. Nevertheless, they show that tables were present to Hume’s mind.

2. An Abstract of a Book Lately Published

In the Abstract, Hume repeats his example of the two billiard balls from the Treatise, §1.3.14, ¶18; but this time he mentions the table that they are on:

Here is a billiard-ball lying on the table, and another ball moving towards it with rapidity. They strike; and the ball, which was formerly at rest, now acquires a motion. [...] I see a billiard-ball moving towards another. I cannot distinguish whether it moves upon its axis, or was struck so as to skim along the table. In the first case, I know it will not stop after the shock. In the second it may stop.

You may count the table as being implied whenever billiard balls are mentioned, if you wish; I have been counting only explicit tables.

3. A Letter from a Gentleman to His Friend in Edinburgh

Speaking of scepticism, Hume wrote this rhetorical question into the Letter:

If I be as much assured of these Principles, as that this Table at which I now write is before me; can any Thing further be desired by the most rigorous Antagonist?

4. An Enquiry concerning Human Understanding

As with the Treatise, I will cite the Enquiry by section and paragraph. I am just calling it Enquiry, since the Moral Enquiry is not as relevant here; see §5 of this blog post for that.

If I see a billiard-ball moving towards another, on a smooth table, I can easily conceive it to stop upon contact. (Enquiry, §5, ¶11)

It seems also evident, that, when men follow this blind and powerful instinct of nature, they always suppose the very images, presented by the senses, to be the external objects, and never entertain any suspicion, that the one are nothing but representations of the other. This very table, which we see white, and which we feel hard, is believed to exist, independent of our perception, and to be something external to our mind, which perceives it. Our presence bestows not being on it: Our absence does not annihilate it. It preserves its existence uniform and entire, independent of the situation of intelligent beings, who perceive or contemplate it.

But this universal and primary opinion of all men is soon destroyed by the slightest philosophy, which teaches us, that nothing can ever be present to the mind but an image or perception, and that the senses are only the inlets, through which these images are conveyed, without being able to produce any immediate intercourse between the mind and the object. The table, which we see, seems to diminish, as we remove farther from it: But the real table, which exists independent of us, suffers no alteration: It was, therefore, nothing but its image, which was present to the mind. These are the obvious dictates of reason; and no man, who reflects, ever doubted, that the existences, which we consider, when we say, this house and that tree, are nothing but perceptions in the mind, and fleeting copies or representations of other existences, which remain uniform and independent. (Enquiry, §12, ¶8–9)

5. Other works

David Hume also mentioned tables in other works, but it was not very relevant to the present subject. For completeness, though, and since this is very easy to do:

• True Account of the Behaviour and Conduct of Archibald Stewart, page 18
• An Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, §6, ¶11
• Dissertation on the Passions, §2, ¶31
• History of England, §2, ¶50; §3, ¶51; §5, ¶7; §8, ¶15; §9, ¶10, ¶56; §11, ¶33; §14, ¶35, 39; §16, ¶17; §17, ¶75; §20, ¶11; §21, ¶3, 10; §23, ¶8; §26, ¶37 and the note 23; §31, ¶71; §32, ¶27; §36, ¶30; §37, ¶25; §39, ¶39; §39, ¶86, note 186; §40, ¶4; §44, ¶55, note 98; Appendix 3, ¶60, ¶68; §47, ¶19; Appendix 4, ¶30; §51, ¶65; §52, ¶16, 17, 20, 22; §53, ¶15, 22; §54, ¶38, 44, 72, 87; §59, ¶57; §60, ¶26; §61, ¶62, 63; §62, ¶68; §64, ¶56; §70, ¶60; §71, ¶91.
• Essays: Of Tragedy, ¶4; Of Eloquence, ¶4; Of the Rise and Progress of the Arts and Sciences, ¶40, note 15; Of Polygamy and Divorces, ¶11; Of Simplicity and Refinement in Writing, ¶2; Of Commerce, ¶13; Of Refinement in the Arts, ¶1; Of Money, ¶21.

Introduction to natural law ethics

Although all matter is non-being, nevertheless some apparent things can be understood, because, through their appearances, we can understand the forms.

0. Contents

1. Intelligibility differential
2. Application to genera and species
3. Application to individuals
4. Objective value
5. Notes

1. Intelligibility differential

We notice that in some apparent things, the movement is more easily referred to the form than others; the form is, therefore, made more intelligible by those appearances than by others.

Those appearances, being more intelligible, provide us with improved access to form, and therefore to being. Since all being is good, those appearances may be judged to be better – not in respect of themselves, since appearances are not, but in respect of the form which they make more intelligible.

This fact, which I shall call the intelligibility differential, is the only ground of all rational value judgments between appearances.[1]

2. Application to genera and species

The intelligibility differential allows us, first, to judge which kinds of apparent things are better, as follows.

First, animate things are better than inanimate things. This is because animate things, sometimes and to some extent, have within themselves, by their nature,[2] the efficient cause of their own motions. To the extent that this happens, more of their motions can be referred to their form, and therefore they are more intelligible, and so, better.

Second, animate beings that are capable of sensation are better than animate beings which are not capable of sensation. This is because sensitive beings, sometimes and to some extent, have within themselves, by their nature, the formal cause of their own motions – i.e., some appearance which they receive through sense. Their nature determines not only how they move, but also when, and under what conditions. To the extent that this happens, more of their motions can be referred to their form, and therefore they are more intelligible, and so, better.

Third, sensitive beings that are capable of understanding are better than sensitive beings which are not capable of understanding. This is because rational beings, sometimes and to some extent, have within themselves, by their nature, the final cause of their own motions – i.e., some knowledge which they receive through intellect. They are able to seek the ends which their nature determines, not only as they appear, but as they are. To the extent that this happens, more of their motions can be referred to their form, and therefore they are more intelligible, and so, better.

So, to use the Porphyrean definitions, men are better than beasts, and beasts are better than plants, which in turn are better than inanimate things. Nowadays, of course, Porphyry’s assumption that plants are devoid of sensation has been shown to be false. Some people are also trying, with less success, to prove that some of the infrahuman animals have rational powers.

3. Application to individuals

The intelligibility differential allows us, second, to judge which individual apparent things are better, within a certain kind.

This is clear enough – of multiple appearances through which we understand the same form, some of them allow for better understanding of the form. This is because their motions are more conformable to the principles which follow from the form – in other terms, they are more often the cause of their motions than not, and their actions are more in accordance with their last end.[3]

Since more of their motions can be referred to their form, they are more intelligible, and so, better. The best members of a species may be said to be the exemplary ones, the ones that best exemplify the form of the species.

4. Objective value

What it means for any apparent object to be objectively better, metaphysically, has thus been explained. All of the material world could, in principle, be ranked on an objective value scale according to the intelligibility differential; the scale would start from the best human being on earth, then pass through every other human being, then every infrahuman living creature, and then reach the inanimate things, finally stopping at the worst inanimate thing.

A notable special case of this is the case of mankind. Since we are rational, we are able to discover the laws of our nature, i.e., understand the human form, in order to act conformably to it, and therefore become objectively better human beings. The project of doing this is called natural law ethics.[4]

5. Notes

[1] Value judgments are necessarily between things, not about things, since value is ordinal, rather than cardinally quantitative. This is true of both economic value and metaphysical goodness.

[2] The nature of an apparent thing is the form which may be understood through it.

[3] Actions of an object are motions which are efficiently caused by it. Some actions of an object may be referred to its form; this reference, as defined before, is called the final cause. In this context, the form is called the last end.

The motions that are referred to the form, then, are said to be in accordance with, or conformable to, the last end. The motions that are not referred to the form are said to be not in accordance with the last end, or possibly contrary to the last end, if their appearance is judged contrary to the sort of appearance which would be conformable to the end. (Contrary opposition between appearances was defined in §6 of this post.)

[4] The laws of a nature may be defined as the general principles, deduced from our understanding of its form, which govern our judgment that the motions of an apparent thing are, or are not, in accordance with its last end. Natural law may refer, depending on context, to the laws of a specific nature, to the laws of all natures taken together, or to the laws of the human nature in particular.

Substance and accident

I continue my commentary of Hume’s Treatise at the next section, §1.1.6. See my commentary on the previous section here.

0. Contents

1. Origin of substance (¶ 1)
2. Nature of substance (¶ 1–2)
3. Substances and accidents
4. End

1. Origin of substance (¶ 1)

Hume begins the section like this:

I would fain ask those philosophers, who found so much of their reasonings on the distinction of substance and accident, and imagine we have clear ideas of each, whether the idea of substance be derived from the impressions of sensation or of reflection? If it be conveyed to us by our senses, I ask, which of them; and after what manner?

I think I might be one of those philosophers. So I think I should answer Hume’s question.

The concept of substance comes from the fact that we are capable of understanding sensible things.

When we understand a sensible chair, for instance, the object of understanding is, of course, a form, which we might call ‘chairness’. But we also understand various other things about the chair which are not involved in chairness – for instance, it may be a four-footed, wooden chair with a circular back. Since we understand those things, they are also form.

The concept of substance comes by when we understand the chair throughout its undergoing various changes.

We notice that some changes, which are involved in our understanding of chairness, prevent the appearances that we see from being understood through the form of chairness any longer – e.g., if the chair loses its back, we may only be able to understand it as a stool.

Other changes, however, are not involved in our understanding of chairness, and do not prevent our understanding the object as a chair. If the chair somehow loses its woodenness or four-footedness, or the back loses its circularity, we may possibly still understand the resulting object to be a chair – chairness is retained.

In order to distinguish the changes which affect the form by which we understand an object of experience, from those that do not, we come up with the concept of substance. We say that there has been an accidental change when we still understand the object by the same form, and a substantial change when we can no longer do so.

2. Nature of substance (¶ 1–2)

Hume continues:

If it be perceived by the eyes, it must be a colour; if by the ears, a sound; if by the palate, a taste; and so of the other senses. But I believe none will assert, that substance is either a colour, or sound, or a taste. The idea, of substance must therefore be derived from an impression of reflection, if it really exist.

Sure, yeah. Reflection. That sounds like how a concept works, alright.

But the impressions of reflection resolve themselves into our passions and emotions: none of which can possibly represent a substance.

What? Where the hell did he get that idea? Concepts don’t have anything to do with passions and emotions. I hope he explains this later, but I suspect he won’t.

We have therefore no idea of substance, distinct from that of a collection of particular qualities, nor have we any other meaning when we either talk or reason concerning it.

The idea of a substance as well as that of a mode, is nothing but a collection of simple ideas, that are united by the imagination, and have a particular name assigned them, by which we are able to recall, either to ourselves or others, that collection.

This is not quite right, but it is not quite wrong, either. A substance is an appearance through which we can understand a certain form. Since an appearance is a collection of proper sensible qualities – which Hume calls “simple ideas” – it is correct to say that a substance is such a collection given a name, as long as we keep in mind that the name is given because of a form that we understand through the collection.

Accidents, however, are also appearances through which we can understand a certain form, as was said above. So, in what follows, I will distinguish substances from accidents.

3. Substances and accidents

Substances are capable of being imagined by themselves. Accidents can only be imagined as part of the larger collections which we call substances, which is to say, “in a subject”.

So, although the forms which we understand through accidents can be conceived of independently of a subject, they cannot be imagined as existing in this way, which is the same as to say, that they cannot appear without a subject in experience.

This is why Aristotle said that “everything except primary substances is either predicated of primary substances, or is present in them, and if these last did not exist, it would be impossible for anything else to exist.” (Cat., 2b5) Existence here is to be understood as appearance, not being – without substances, there would be no external world, since accidents are incapable of appearing without substances.

Since I have clearly defined substances as a kind of appearance, I do not use Aristotle’s term “secondary substance”. What he called “secondary substances”, I call “forms”.

4. End

I do not find it profitable to give any comments on the rest of ¶2, or on ¶3. I say nothing about modes because, to date, I have never found a use for the term mode when thinking about anything. If I ever wish to talk about modes of anything, I will define the term when I get there.