Friday, June 26, 2009

Forking Hume


Today I find myself wrestling with Hume's fork - a wonderfully cogent skeptical argument that suggests there can be no certainty in our statements about the world. Hume dichotomizes all propositions into two types; first there are statements about ideas, which are analytic in nature, and knowable through logic and deduction. Kant would later dub these statements (such as "1+1 = 2" or "all men are mortal") a priori, or knowledge that can be known in absolute certainty without empirical (worldly) experience.

The second kinds of statements are statements about the world, such as "the sun rises in the east" or "gravity makes rocks fall to the earth." These types of statements are synthetic, a posteriori propositions. A posteriori knowledge comes from empirical data - as we watch the sun continuously rise in the east, or rocks fall to the ground, we come to see the truth in these statements to the extent which they square with our future expectations of the world.

Future expectations, in this case, are the key to understanding why Hume was such a skeptic. In order for us to claim that "every rock dropped will hit the earth" we, of course, need the premise "every rock I've ever dropped has hit the earth." We also need another premise, one Hume is not willing to grant us, and rightfully so.

Hume argues that, implicit in all synthetic a posteriori claims, is a premise that the future always resembles the past. Ironically, we come to realize empirically that this isn't true, and therefore if I can't say with any certainty that the future will resemble the past, I have no good reason for expecting the rock to fall to the ground the next time I drop it. If you were to rebuff me and say "Gravity will always pull the rocks down", I could just as easily say to you "and how do you know that gravity will act the same in the future as it has in the past."

Ultimately, Hume forces us to realize that intrinsic to any of our expectations that we claim to know about the world is a degree of hopeless faith which ostensibly says "I believe that I know X because I have faith that all previous occurrences of X will resemble all future occurrences of X." How ridiculous, in this sense, it is to say that you know that the rock in your hand, when dropped, will fall to the ground, because you believe that this rock, and all rocks that have been dropped and will be dropped, act the same? Surely this is not now we want to go about claiming to "know" things...

So I'm left with a logical argument that makes perfect sense but with consequences that make me very unhappy. According to Hume, statements about ideas (a priori), may be certain, though they cannot truly pertain to the world. This is because we cannot be completely certain about anything in the world, and hence, if we are certain that "a triangle has three sides", we can also be certain that this tells us nothing about the world.

On the flip side, if we cannot be certain of statements about the world; we cannot use our ideas and analytics in matters of fact. Abstract relationships, therefore, cannot be consistently used to express or evaluate material objects/process. What does this mean for physics and applied math? Does this invalidate the very strength of empirical science?

Or does this, once and for all, settle the argument that philosophers are truly useless to the world, just as much as the world is useless to philosophers? I'll leave the conclusions up to you... suffice to say, Hume forked us good.

2 comments:

  1. Aaron you are writing so many posts ha!

    Now outside 'academia' (insofar as the undergraduate experience can properly be referred to in such a manner), there is this ticklish and delectable freedom that comes along with being able to take any old position that I want on philosophical issues....

    Get to be the rebel again! And if I end up with a completely incoherent position, no profs around to arrest and book me!

    There is one thing about discourse which I am realizing fascinates me more than anything else: the right of the other party to simply say 'I am not interested' or 'Why is that compelling?' or simply 'No.'

    I had this realization as I was reading Hume's argument against induction, which I suppose I am somewhat familiar with already; for some reason the old boy's thought experiment just seemed so much less IMPORTANT than it used to now. Just a few words inked out on some parchment, duly transcribed by his descendants (i.e. us); just another passing thought in the communal minds of men.

    I want to draft some sort of approach to philosophy through which the work thereby produced wouldn't be VULNERABLE to, more or less, the casual indifference of an interlocutor.

    I want to reflect on the Tao Te Ching - the whole 'If you are fluid or formless, you cannot be struck' principle. The whole pragmatist endeavor really is on the right track; and it really does promote Incoherence as a guiding principle (something which Pragmatism will never admit to, but something which it relies on quite absolutely). Pragmatism is all about not really having any sort of 'conclusion', not taking any genuine position at the end of the day. (This is, in a sense, like being 'formless'). Pragmatism IS about the PROCESS or the EDIFICATION that occurs even in the absence of 'conclusions'. In a sense, I suppose, this makes pragmatism almost artistic in a certain sense. (And, btw, this reading of it may be completely false to boot.)

    But I'll conclude my response here with my thanks, since it has inspired me to think about the possibility of what the consequences of adopting a pragmatic stance might be (for example, in reaction to Hume's fork), and where that stance might lead.

    Cheers,
    JP

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  2. God, I really need to edit my comments before posting them guns-blazing. That was almost blatant stream-of-consciousness!

    I guess (and I should have edited the post so that it read much more clearly) I want to try summing up my response one more time haha:

    1) Maybe the conclusion of Hume's argument is the boring part, the part to which an imagined interlocutor might simply say 'Why is that interesting?'
    2) Maybe the process of Hume's argument is the interesting part, the state of mind that produced it, with its accompanying expectations or doubts.
    3) Maybe we aren't supposed to take any 'fact' away from the argument, but rather a recipe for a 'meditation' which we can volitionally replicate in ourselves and which changes and betters us?
    and 4) Would this be pragmatism?

    Well, now to break my own new rule since I'm out of time; I'll post this without editing!!!

    Cheers again,
    JP

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