Читать книгу Fundamental Philosophy - Jaime Luciano Balmes - Страница 29

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247. The transition from subject to object, from subjective appearance to objective reality, is a problem which vexes fundamental philosophy. Consciousness will not permit us to doubt that certain things appear to us in such a manner; but are they in reality what they appear to us? How are we to know this? What shall assure us of this conformity of the idea with the object?

The question does not relate solely to sensations; it also extends to purely intellectual ideas, even to those inundated with that internal light which we call evidence. "What I evidently see in the idea of a thing, is as I see it," philosophers have said, and all mankind with them. No one doubts what is presented to him as evidently true. But how prove that evidence is a legitimate criterion of truth?

248. "God is truthful," says Descartes, "and could not have deceived us; He could not have taken pleasure in making us the victims of perpetual illusions." All this is true. But the skeptic will ask how we know that God is truthful, or even that he exists. If we found the veracity of God on the idea of an infinitely perfect being, as Descartes does, there is still the same difficulty with respect to the correspondence of the idea with the object. If we draw the demonstration of the veracity and existence of God from the ideas of necessary and contingent beings, of effect and cause, of order and intelligence, we again meet the same obstacle, and are still unable to pass from the idea to the object.

No matter how much we cavil, we shall never get out of this circle, we shall always return to the same point. The mind cannot think out of itself; what it knows, it knows by means of its ideas; if these deceive, it has nothing left to set it right. All rectification, all proof must employ these ideas, and these, in their turn, require new proof and rectification.

249. Many books of philosophy exaggerate the illusions of the senses, and the difficulty of assuring ourselves of the sensible reality, when they solve this question: "I perceive it to be so; but is it as I perceive?" These same books immediately afterwards speak of the order of ideas with security equal to their mistrust in the sensible order. This does not seem very logical, for phenomena relating to the senses, may be examined by the light of reason, and it may be seen how far they agree with it: but what touch-stone have we for the phenomena of reason itself? If there be difficulty in the sensible, there is likewise in the intellectual, and the more serious, since it affects the very basis of all cognitions, even those which relate to sensations.

If we doubt the existence of the external world which the senses present to us, we may appeal to the connection of the sensations with causes not in us; and so deduce by demonstration the relations of the appearances with the reality: but this requires the ideas of cause and effect; we must have some truth, some general principles, as for example, that nothing can produce itself, and others similar, without which we cannot take one step.

250. We do not believe any satisfactory reason can be given for the veracity of the criterion of evidence, although it is impossible not to yield to it. The connection, therefore, of evidence with reality, and consequently, the transition from the idea to the object, are primitive facts of our nature, a necessary law of our understanding, the foundation of all that it contains—a foundation which in its turn rests, and can rest only on God, the Creator of our soul.

251. We must observe the contradiction into which those philosophers fall who say: I cannot doubt what is subjective, what affects myself, what I feel within myself; but I have no right to go out of myself, and affirm that what I think is in reality as I think. Do you know that you feel, that you think, that you have within you such or such an appearance? Can you prove it? Evidently you cannot. You yield to a fact, to an internal necessity which forces you to believe that you think, that you feel, or that such a thing appears to you; but then there is equal necessity in the connection of the object with the idea, an equal necessity forces you to believe that what appears to you to be in such or such a condition is as it appears. Neither case admits of demonstration; in both there is an indeclinable necessity: where, then, is philosophy, when it is attempted to establish so great a difference between things which admit of none?

Fichte says: "It is impossible to explain in a precise manner how a philosopher can get beyond the me:"[21] and we may with equal reason say, that we cannot conceive how he has been able to raise a system upon the me. To what does he appeal? To a fact of consciousness, that is, to a necessity. And is not the assent to evidence, the certainty to which the reality apparently corresponds, also a necessity? On what does Fichte found his system of the me and the not-me? We have only to read his works to see that he only founds it on considerations which suppose a value in certain ideas, a truth in certain judgments. Otherwise it is impossible to speak or to think: and this even he himself admits when, in commencing his investigations on the principle of our cognitions, he utters the words we have just quoted. He then confesses that we cannot take one step without trusting all the laws of general logic, which are not always demonstrated, but are supposed tacitly admitted. And what are these laws, without objective truths? What are they without the value of ideas, without correspondence with objects? Fichte says rightly, it is a circle; but he can no more get out of it than other philosophers.

252. To take from ideas their objective value, to reduce them to mere subjective phenomena, to resist that internal necessity which obliges us to admit the correspondence of the soul to objects, is to destroy the very consciousness of the soul. This must have been seen, and this we think we can most evidently demonstrate.

253. We have consciousness of ourselves. We now abstract what we feel, what we are; but we know that we feel and that we are. This experience is so clear, so vivid, that we cannot resist the truth of what it attests to us. But this me is not only the me of the present instant, it is also the me of yesterday, and of all prior time of which we have consciousness. We are the same that we were yesterday, the being in which this succession is verified, to which this variety of appearances is presented. The consciousness of the me then includes the identity of a being at distinct times, in various situations, with different ideas, and diverse affections—the identity of a being which endures and is the same throughout the changes succeeding in it. If this duration of identity be broken, if I be not sure that I am the same me that I was previously, the consciousness of the me is destroyed. There would exist a series of unconnected facts, isolated acts of consciousness, but not that intimate consciousness I now experience. This cannot be doubted; every man feels it in himself; it admits neither discussion nor proof in any one, it requires them of no one. The moment this consciousness of identity fails, we are in our own eyes annihilated; whatever we may be in reality, for ourselves we are nothing. What is the consciousness of a being, formed from a series of acts of consciousness, without connection or mutual relation? It is a being revealed successively to itself, yet not as itself, but as a new being, a being which is born and dies, and dies and is born before its eyes, without its knowing that what is born is what died, or that what died is what was born: it is a light which burns and is extinguished, and again burns and is again extinguished, without its knowing that it is the same light.

254. This consciousness is completely destroyed by those who deny the connection between the idea and object.

Demonstration.—In the instant A, I have no other subjective presence of my acts than the very act I am at that moment performing: I cannot therefore be certain that I have had any previously, if they be not represented in the present idea; there is therefore a connection between this idea and its object. Attending then simply to the phenomena of consciousness, to the mere consciousness of the subject, we find that we do, by an irresistible necessity, attribute an objective value to ideas, an objective truth to judgments.

255. Without this objective truth, all certain recollection even of internal phenomena, and by a legitimate consequence, all reasoning, judgment, and thought, are impossible.

Recollection is of past acts. When we recollect them, they already are not; for, if they were, we should not have recollection, but present consciousness of them. Even when in the act of recollecting them we have other similar acts, these are not the same, for something of past time always enters into the idea of recollection. Therefore, we can have no certainty of them, but by their connection with the present act, their correspondence with the idea presenting them to us.

256. We have said that if, in internal phenomena, the certainty of the objective truth fail, all reasoning is impossible. In fact, all reasoning supposes a succession of acts; when one of them exists in the mind, the other does not exist; therefore, continued minute recollections are required, lest the chain be broken; and thus, without this chain, there is no reasoning; without recollection this chain is not; without objective truth, there is no certain recollection; therefore, without objective truth there is no reasoning.

257. All judgments also seem impossible. Judgments are of two classes: some require demonstration, others do not. Those that require demonstration would be impossible, for there can be no demonstration without reasoning, and reasoning in this case is impossible. As to those that do not need demonstration, because they shine with immediate evidence; all of them, not relating to the present act of the soul, in the very instant when the judgment is pronounced, would be impossible. Therefore, there could be no judgment but that of the present act, that is, the consciousness of the present without relation to the preceding. But it is remarkable that even with respect to the acts of consciousness, this judgment would be little less than impossible; for when we form a judgment upon an act of consciousness, this we do not by this act, but by a reflex act. This reflection requires succession, and succession cannot be known with certainty if there be no objective truth.

It is even very doubtful if the judgments of immediate evidence would be possible. They suppose, as we explained in the preceding chapter, relation of the partial conceptions into which the whole is decomposed; and how can there be decomposition without succession? If there is succession, there is recollection; if there is recollection, there is no immediate presence of the thing recollected.

258. Such consequences are astounding, but they are inevitable. If we destroy objective truth, all rational thought disappears. Such thought includes a certain continuity of acts corresponding to different instants; if this continuity be broken, the human thought ceases to be what it is, ceases to exist as reason. It is a series of acts which have no sort of connection, and which lead to nothing. In such a case, all expression, all words fail; nothing has a fixed value; every thing is ingulfed in obscurity. Thus it is in the intellectual and moral order as in the material; and man has not even the comfort of possessing himself; he vanishes from himself like an empty shadow.

259. Sensations may also exist as an unconnected series, but there will be no certain recollection of them, since the objective truth is wanting; past sensations exist only as past, and, consequently, as simple objects. All intellectual reflection upon them will be impossible, for reflection is not sensation; sensation is an object of reflection, not reflection itself. Thus, the ignorant man has the same sensation as the philosopher, but not the same reflection upon it. A thousand times we have sensations without reflecting that we have them. Sensible is very different from intellectual consciousness; the former is the simple presence of the sensation, or the sensation itself; the latter is the act of the intellect occupied with the sensation.

260. This distinction is also found in all purely intellectual acts: the reflection upon the act is not the act itself. One is the object of the other; they are not identical, and are often found separated. If, then, there were no objective truth, reflection would be impossible.

261. It is likewise difficult to comprehend how any act of the consciousness of the me, even as present, can be possible. We have already seen the me disappear when the series of recollections is broken, and without objective truth it is not even possible to conceive the me for one instant. The me thinking knows the me thought only as object. Whether it perceive or know it, to account to itself for itself, it must reflect upon itself, and take itself for its own object; and there being no objective truth, it is inconceivable how an object can have any value.

It follows from this, that they who oppose objectiveness, attack a fundamental law of our mind, destroy thought, even consciousness, and every thing subjective which could serve as its basis.

262. In their arguments against objective certainty, its opponents are accustomed to depend upon the errors into which it leads us. The madman believes he sees objects, which do not exist; the lunatic believes firmly in his disconnected thoughts; and why may not that which deceives us in one instance, also deceive us in another, and all cases? Can that be a certain criterion which sometimes fails? Why not stop with the purely subjective? The madman, the lunatic, are deceived in the object, not in the subject; although what they think is not true, it is still very true and certain that they think it.

This is a specious objection; but it does not remove the difficulties under which the system, in favor of which it is adduced, labors; and it may, on the other hand, be solved in so far as it tends to weaken objective truth.

The madman, the lunatic, have also recollections of things that never existed. These recollections do not relate solely to external, but likewise to their internal acts. The madman who calls himself king, acts in accordance with his thought, with what he felt when crowned, when dethroned; and yet, these intellectual phenomena never existed. And, however this may be, he himself may have produced these recollections. We hold, then, that the criterion with respect to memory is wrong in this case, and can be of avail in no case. Therefore, even, although we had not shown that without objective truth there is no recollection even of the internal, the arguments of our adversaries would have sufficed. This objection, if it prove any thing, confirms all that we have advanced in demonstrating that without objectiveness there is no consciousness properly so called, and this even our opponents do not admit.

263. Moreover, we at once see what weight an argument based on craziness should have at the tribunal of reason. It all, at the most, only proves the weakness of our nature, that in some unfortunate individuals the established order of humanity is reversed; that the rule of truth, as it exists in so weak a creature, admits of some exceptions; but these exceptions are known, for their characters are marked. The exception does not destroy, it only confirms the rule.(25)