Читать книгу Fundamental Philosophy - Jaime Luciano Balmes - Страница 6

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5. That we have certainty, common sense assures us, but what is its basis, and how it is acquired, are two difficult questions, which it is for philosophy to answer.

Three very different questions are involved in that of certainty; and if confounded, they contribute not a little to the creation of difficulties, and the confusion of matters which, even when they have their various aspects most accurately marked, are sufficiently hard and complicated.

It will greatly conduce to the due determination of our ideas, carefully to distinguish between the existence of certainty, its basis, and the mode in which it is acquired. Its existence is an indisputable fact; its basis the object of philosophical researches, and the mode of acquiring it frequently a concealed phenomenon not open to observation.

6. That bodies exist is a fact that no man of sane mind can doubt. No questions raised upon this point can ever shake our firm conviction in the existence, without us, of what we call the corporeal world. This conviction is a phenomenon of our existence. Explain it, perhaps we cannot; but we certainly cannot deny it; we submit to it as to an inevitable necessity.

What is the basis of certainty? Here we have not a simple fact, but a question solved by every philosopher in his own way. Descartes and Malebranche recur to the veracity of God; Locke and Condillac to the peculiar character and evolution of certain sensations.

How does man acquire this certainty? He knows not: he had it before reflecting on it; he is astounded to hear it made a matter of dispute, and he might never have suspected it could be asked, why we are certain that what affects our senses exists. It is of no use to ask him how he made so precious an acquisition; he regards it as a fact scarcely distinct from his own existence. He has no recollection of the order of sensations in his infancy; he finds his mind now developed, but is as ignorant of the laws of its development as he is of those which presided over the generation and growth of his body.

7. Philosophy should begin by explaining, not by disputing the fact of certainty. If we are certain of nothing, it is absolutely impossible for us to advance a single step in any science, or to take any part whatever in the affairs of life. A thorough-going skeptic would be insane, and that too with insanity of the highest grade. To such a one, all communication with other men, all succession of external actions, all thoughts, and even acts of the will would be impossible. Let us, then, admit the fact, and not be so extravagant as to say that madness sits on the threshold of philosophy.

It is the part of philosophy to analyze, not to destroy its object; for by destroying its object it destroys itself. Every argument must have a resting-point, which must be a fact. Whether it be internal or external, idea or object, the fact must exist: we must begin by supposing something, and this something we call a fact. Whoever begins by denying or doubting all facts, is like the anatomist, who, before dissecting a corpse, burns it, and casts its ashes to the wind.

8. Philosophy then, it may be said, commences not with an examination, but with an affirmation. Granted, and this is a truth whose admission closes the door on much sophistry, and sheds a brilliant light over the whole theory of certainty.

Philosophers are deceived when they imagine that they begin by doubting. Nothing is more false; when they think, they affirm, if nothing else, at least their own doubt: whenever they reason, they assert the connection of ideas, that is, the whole logical world.

Fichte, who certainly was not easily satisfied with anything, begins to treat of the basis of human knowledge by making an affirmation, and this he confesses with an ingenuousness that does him honor. Speaking of reflection, the foundation of his philosophy, he says: "The rules to which this reflection is subject, are not proved to be valid, but are tacitly presupposed to be known and admitted. They are, in their remotest origin, derived from a principle, the legitimacy of which can only be established on condition that they are valid. This is a circle, but an inevitable circle. But supposing it to be inevitable, and that we frankly confess it so to be, it is, in order to establish the highest principle, allowable to trust all the laws of general logic. We must start on the road of reflection with a proposition conceded by all the world without any contradiction."[1]

9. Certainty is to us a happy necessity; nature imposes it, and philosophers do not cast off nature. Pyrrho once came very near being hit by a stone, but he very naturally took good care to get out of its way, without stopping to examine whether it was a real stone, or only the appearance of one. The bystanders laughed at him for this, and, at the same time, showed how inconsistent this act was with his doctrine; but he gave this answer, which, under the circumstances, was exceedingly profound: "It is hard entirely to throw off human nature."

10. In sound philosophy, then, the question turns not upon the existence of certainty, but upon its motives, and the means of acquiring it. It is an inheritance of which we cannot divest ourselves, although we repudiate those very titles which guaranty its possession to us. Who is not certain that he thinks, feels, wills; that he has a body, and that there are around him others similar to his, of which the corporeal universe consists? Prior to all systems, humanity was in possession of this certainty, so, also, is every individual, although he may never during his whole life have once asked himself what the world is, what bodies are, or in what sensation, thought, and will consist. Not even if we examine the foundations of certainty and acknowledge the serious difficulties concerning them, which arise from ratiocination, is it possible to doubt everything. There never was, in all the rigor of the word, a true skeptic.

11. It is the same with certainty as with other objects of human knowledge. The fact is presented to us in all its magnitude, and with all clearness; but we do not penetrate to its innermost nature. Our understanding is as well provided with means to acquire knowledge of phenomena in the spiritual as in the material order, and it is sufficiently perspicacious to detect, delineate, and classify the laws to which they are subject; but when it would ascend to the cognition of the very essence of things, or would investigate the principles of the science which makes its boast, it feels its strength fail, and the ground whereon it stands, tremble and sink beneath its feet.

Happily, man possesses certainty independently of philosophical systems, not limited to phenomena of the soul, but extending as far as is needed in order to direct his conduct, both with regard to himself and to external objects. Before inquiring if there is certainty, all men were certain that they thought, willed, felt, that they had a body whose motions were governed by the will, and that there existed an assemblage of various bodies, called the universe. Since inquiries with regard to certainty were first instituted, it has remained the same with all men, even with those who disputed it; not one of whom could ever go farther than Pyrrho, and succeed in casting off human nature.

12. We cannot determine to what extent the force of mind of some philosophers, engaged in combatting nature, may have succeeded in creating doubt on many points, but certain it is: first, that no one ever went so far as to doubt the internal phenomena whose presence he felt inwardly; second, that if indeed any one ever did persuade himself that no external object corresponded to these phenomena, this must have been so strange an exception as to merit, in the history of science, and in the eyes of sound philosophy, no more weight than the illusions of a maniac. If Berkely went so far as to deny the existence of bodies, thus making the sophisms of reason triumph over the instincts of nature, he is alone, and in opposition to all mankind, and richly merits to have this saying applied to him: "Insanity is insanity still, no matter how sublime it may be."

Those very philosophers, who carried their skepticism the farthest, agreed upon the necessity of accommodating themselves in practice to the appearances of the senses, and of reserving doubt for the world of speculation. Philosophers may dispute on every thing as much as they please, but, the dispute over, they cease to be philosophers, and are again men, similar to other men, and, like them all, enjoy the fruits of certainty. This, Hume, who denied with Berkely the existence of bodies, confesses: "I dine," he says; "I play a game at backgammon; I converse, and am happy with my friends; and when, after three or four hours of amusement, I would return to these speculations, they appear so cold, so strained, and so ridiculous, that I cannot find it in my heart to enter into them any farther. Here, then, I find myself absolutely and necessarily determined to live, and talk, and act, like other people, in the common affairs of life."[2]

13. We must, in discussing certainty, guard against the feverish desire of shaking the foundations of human reason. We should, in this class of questions, seek a thorough knowledge of the principles of science, and the laws which govern the development of our mind. To labor to destroy them is to mistake the object of true philosophy: we have only to make them a matter of observation, just as we do those of the material world, without any intention of disturbing the admirable order prevailing in the universe. Skeptics, who, in order to render their philosophy more solid, begin by doubting every thing, resemble the man, who, desirous of ascertaining, and exactly determining the phenomena of life, should bare his bosom, and thrust the knife into his heart.

Sobriety is as necessary to the health of the mind, as to that of the body: there is no wisdom without prudence, no philosophy without judgment. In the soul of man there is a divine light which directs him with admirable certainty. If we do not persist in extinguishing it, its splendor guides us, and when we reach the term of science it shows it to us, and makes us read in distinct characters the words—enough, you can go no farther. These words are written by the Author of all beings; he it is that has given laws to the body as well as to the mind, and he contains in his infinite essence the ultimate reason of all things.

14. The certainty which is prior to all examination is not blind; on the contrary, it springs either from the clearness of the intellectual vision, or from an instinct conformable to reason: it is not opposed to reason, but is its basis. Our mind, in discursive reasoning, knows truth by the connection of propositions, or by the light which is reflected from one truth upon another. In primitive certainty the vision is by direct light, and does not need reflection.

When, then, we note the existence of certainty, we do not speak of a blind fact, nor do we seek to extinguish the light in its very source; we would rather say, that it is more brilliant there than in its radiations. We see a body whose splendor illumines the world in which we live; ought we, if requested to explain its nature and its relations with other objects, to begin by destroying these? When naturalists would examine the nature of light, and determine its laws, they do not begin by removing the light itself, and placing themselves in darkness.

15. True, this method of philosophizing is somewhat dogmatic, but dogmatic as it is, it has on its side, as we have seen, Pyrrho, Hume, and Fichte. It is not simply a method of philosophy, it is the voluntary submission of our very nature to an inevitable necessity, the combination of reason with instinct, a simultaneous attention to different voices calling from the depths of our soul. According to Pascal, "nature confounds the Pyrrhonians, and reason the dogmatists." This passes for a profound saying, and is so under a certain aspect; but it is notwithstanding somewhat inexact. The confusion is not the same in both cases: reason does not confound the dogmatist, unless he separates it from nature; but nature confounds the Pyrrhonian, either alone or joined with reason. The true dogmatist founds his reason upon nature; it knows itself, confesses the impossibility of proving every thing, and does not arbitrarily assume any principle that it needs unless nature itself furnishes it. And thus it does not confound the dogmatist, when guided by it he seeks a sure foundation for it. Nature, when it confounds the Pyrrhonian, attests the triumph of the reason of dogmatists, whose principal argument against Pyrrhonians, is the voice of nature itself. Pascal's thought would have been more exact if thus worded: nature confounds the Pyrrhonian and is necessary to the reason of dogmatists. This is less antithetical, but more true. Dogmatists do not deny nature; reason without it is impotent; to exercise its strength it needs a resting point. With such, Archimedes offered to move the earth, without this his immense lever could not stir a single atom.(2)