Showing posts with label Hume. David Hume. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hume. David Hume. Show all posts

24 Jul 2021

Quine (1) “Two Dogmas of Empiricism”, section 1, “Background for Anayticity”, summary

 

by Corry Shores

 

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[The following is a paragraph by paragraph summary of the text. More analysis is still needed and will be updated when conducted. Proofreading is incomplete, so please forgive all my various mistakes. Material between brackets or between parentheses within brackets is my own and should not be trusted over the quotations, which themselves may contain typographical errors from their transcription. Please consult the original text in any case.]

 

 

 

 

Summary of

 

W. V. Quine

 

“Two Dogmas of Empiricism”

 

 

1

“Background for Anayticity”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brief summary (collecting those below):

(1.1) There are forerunners to Kant’s analytic/synthetic judgment distinction. {1a} Hume’s relations of ideas, which are logically certain (because their contraries imply contradictions), as for example mathematical equations, and {1b} matters of fact, which are probable, because their contraries are not contradictions, as for example ‘the sun will rise tomorrow’. (Enquiry 4.2) {2a}  Leibniz’ truths of reason, which are necessary because their opposite is impossible, and {2b} truths of fact, which are contingent, because their opposite is possible. (Monadology 33, Philosophical Texts p.272) Morton White shows that the definition of analyticity as “Analytic statements are those whose denials are self-contradictory” is insufficient, because there are cases of denials that render contradictions, but it is not a syntactical case of “A and not-A;” for instance “All men are rational animals” would be denied as “It is not the case that all men are rational animals” (or “Some men are not rational animals”). (1.2) For Kant, an analytic statement is one that “attributes to its subject no more than is already conceptually contained in the subject. (20) Quine notes two problems with this definition: {1} it is limited only to statements in a subject-predicate form (and presumably there are analytic statements not of this form, but Quine does not mention any here) and {2} its notion of containment remains only at a metaphysical level (perhaps because it is not defined formally). Quine sees Kant’s intent and redefines Kant’s analyticity as “a statement is analytic when it is true by virtue of meanings and independently of fact.” (21) We turn now to the notion of meaning used here. (1.3) Meaning cannot be mere reference, because there are cases where two different names name the same thing, but each name has a different meaning, as for instance Frege’s ‘Evening Star = Morning Star’. As the two names are not identical in meaning, this statement is not analytic. (In fact, the meaning of ‘the evening star’ is almost the opposite of the meaning of ‘morning star’.) Also the identity made between the two is a statement of fact that is demonstrated through astronomical observation. (Thus it does not fulfill either of the Kantian requirements that an analytic statement be “true by virtue of meanings and independently of fact.”). (1.4) Another example of a case where equated names do not render an analytic statement is Russell’s “Scott is the author of Waverley.” (1.5) Even with abstract terms, like number values,  we still have this problem, as “9” and “the number of planets” names one and the same abstract entity (the number value of nine), but the equation of the two is not analytic; for, observation was needed to make that equation, and a reflection on their meanings is insufficient to. (1.6) A general term or predicate does not name an entity, but it is true of an entity or entities, or of none. The extension of a general term is that class of all entities that a general term is true of. With singular terms, we distinguished its meaning from its extension (Evening Star and Morning Star have the same extension, the planet Venus, but different meanings); similarly, we must do the same for general terms. So for example, the general terms “creature with a heart” and “creature with a kidney” may have an identical extension (supposing all creatures with the one organ also in fact have the other), but they are not alike in meaning. (1.7) We sometimes contrast intension (or meaning) and connotation with extension or denotation. (1.8) Aristotle’s notion of essence was a forerunner for what we now call intension (meaning). Aristotle distinguishes the essential from the accidental, so for humans, it is essential to be rational, but it is accidental to have two legs. Quine notes a problem. Consider a human person. They will be both rational and two-legged. Quine observes however that we may classify this person either as a human or a biped. Insofar as they are a human, their rationality is essential and their bipedalism is not. But insofar as they are a biped, their two-leggedness is essential and their rationality is not. (Here Quine claims that we are dealing with meanings rather than essences. We might say under a doctrine of essences that for some particular individual person, their rationality is essential and their bipedalism is not. However, under a doctrine of meanings, for this individual’s predicates of being rational and bipedal, it cannot be said that one of them is essential and the other is not. For, by the same reasoning that we would use to designate one over the other, we may equally use it to designate the other over the first. (We might say, “here is a human,” and take their rationality as essential; or, for the same person, we might say, “here is a biped” and take their two-leggedness as essential. This is because in that case we are concerned with meanings (of “human” and of “biped”) rather than with the entity itself’s proper essence).) “Things had essences, for Aristotle, but only linguistic forms have meanings. Meaning is what essence becomes when it is divorced from the object of reference and wedded to the word.” (22) (1.9) In a theory of meaning, we would need to explain what kind of objects meanings are. They seem to be ideas. For semanticists, they are mental ideas. For others, they are Platonic ideas. But these characterizations are not sufficient because such entities are too elusive to erect “a fruitful science about them.” (22) Some things are often not clear about such entities: {1} whether we have two or one; and {2} when linguistic forms are synonymous or not. (1.10) But once we distinguish a theory of meaning from a theory of reference, we can then think of meanings just in terms of synonymy of linguistic forms and the analyticity of statements. (1.11) We began wondering how to define analyticity. (We saw in the Kantian conception that it can be understood as being true by meanings and independently of fact. See 1.2. We distinguished meaning from extension. Then we found that meanings are hard to define and unnecessary when we have extension.) We now no longer consider a “special realm of entities called meanings.” (23) That means we must find other ways to understand analyticity. (1.12) Statements that are often considered analytic in philosophy are generally of two types. {1} Ones that are logically true, for instance (1) No unmarried man is married. (This is true no matter what the interpretations are of the terms. It is formally true.) (1.13) {2} The other kind of analytic statements are ones that can be rendered into a logically true format by substituting synonyms. For example, (2) “No bachelor is married” can be rendered “No unmarried man is married” but substituting the synonyms “bachelor” and “unmarried man”. Yet, we do not have a proper (formal?) characterization of these kinds of analytic statements, especially since we do not have a (formal?) definition of synonymy. Thus we do not have an adequate (formal?) characterization of analyticity. (1.14) Carnap defines analyticity in the following way. We begin by assigning all the truth values to every atomic statement in a language. Each complete combination of assignments for all the atomic sentences is what he calls a “state description.” We can then compositionally build up the complex statements of the language using logical means, with their truth values being computable based on logical laws. A statement is analytic when it is true under every state description. Since a state description is like a possible world (it is one combination of facts), this can be seen as following Leibniz’ notion of being true in all possible worlds. (Quine then explains a problem with this conception: if the language has extralogical synonym-pairs, such as ‘bachelor’ and ‘unmarried man’, then statements like “All bachelors are married” will turn out to be synthetic rather than analytic. Thus) “The criterion in terms of state-descriptions is a reconstruction at best of logical truth.” (24) (1.15) Yet, Carnap’s main concern was clarifying probability and induction, not analyticity, which is our concern, “and here the major difficulty lies not in the first class of analytic statements, the logical truths, but rather in the second class, which depends on the notion of synonymy.” (23)

 

 

 

 

 

Contents

 

1.1

[Forerunners of Kant’s Analytic/Synthetic Distinction in Hume and Leibniz. M. White’s Account for the Inadequacy of Defining Analyticity as Denial Rendering a Contradiction]

 

1.2

[Reformulation Kant’s Notion of Analyticity as Being True by its Meanings and Independently of Fact]

 

1.3

[Meaning as Not Referential Naming]

 

1.4

[Russell’s “Author of Waverley” as Another Example of an Identifying Naming Statement That Is Not Analytical]

 

1.5

[Abstract Terms as Also Having This Problem (“9” and “The Number of Planets”)]

 

1.6

[Meaning and Extension for General Terms (“Creature with a Heart” and “Creature with a Kidney”]

 

1.7

[Intention (Meaning)/Connotation Vs. Extension/Denotation]

 

1.8

[Aristotle’s Essence as Being Similar to Meaning, but Not Identical]

 

1.9

[Difficulty in Defining What Kind of Entities Meanings Are]

 

1.10

[Defining Meaning as Superfluous]

 

1.12

[Logically True Analytic Statements]

 

1.13

[Statements Made Logically True by Substitutions]

 

1.14

[Carnap’s Definition of Logical Truths (Analyticity)]

 

1.15

[Turning Instead to Analyticity From Synonymy]

 

Bibliography

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

1.1

[Forerunners of Kant’s Analytic/Synthetic Distinction in Hume and Leibniz. M. White’s Account for the Inadequacy of Defining Analyticity as Denial Rendering a Contradiction]

 

[There are forerunners to Kant’s analytic/synthetic judgment distinction. {1a} Hume’s relations of ideas, which are logically certain (because their contraries imply contradictions), as for example mathematical equations, and {1b} matters of fact, which are probable, because their contraries are not contradictions, as for example ‘the sun will rise tomorrow’. (Enquiry 4.2) {2a}  Leibniz’ truths of reason, which are necessary because their opposite is impossible, and {2b} truths of fact, which are contingent, because their opposite is possible. (Monadology 33, Philosophical Texts p.272) Morton White shows that the definition of analyticity as “Analytic statements are those whose denials are self-contradictory” is insufficient, because there are cases of denials that render contradictions, but it is not a syntactical case of “A and not-A;” for instance “All men are rational animals” would be denied as “It is not the case that all men are rational animals” (or “Some men are not rational animals”).]

 

[We are dealing with the first dogma (see section 0.1), which is that truths are distinctly either: {1a} synthetic, meaning that they they are grounded in fact, or they are {1b} analytic, meaning that they grounded in meanings independently of matters of fact. Hume made the distinction between relations of ideas and matters of fact (recall from his Enquiry concerning Human Nature, Section 4, part 2 that we have knowledge either of {1} relations of ideas, which are logically certain (because their contraries imply contradictions), as for example mathematical equations, or we have knowledge of {2} matters of fact, which are probable, because their contraries are not contradictions, as for example ‘the sun will rise tomorrow’ (for, it is not a contradiction to think, ‘the sun will not rise tomorrow’). We trust such conclusions regarding matters of fact, because we come to have knowledge of causal relations governing such regularities. And this causal knowledge is obtainable only through experience. Leibniz makes a similar distinction between truths of reason and truths of fact: “There are also two kinds of truths, those of reasoning and those of fact. The truths of reasoning are necessary and their opposite is impossible; the truths of fact are contingent, and their opposite is possible. When a truth is necessary, its reason can be found by analysis, resolving it into simpler ideas and simpler truths until we reach the primitives.” (Monadology 33, Philosophical Texts p.272) Kant’s analytic and synthetic judgment distinction is similar to both of these (we examine it below). Quine notes how Morton White claims that “Analytic statements are those whose denials are self-contradictory.” (324) Here White is presenting this as an anti-intensional view that he is critical of. This is not sufficient, White says, because in many cases of a denied formulations that intuitively present a contradiction, there is no syntactically obvious contradiction. For example, “All men are rational animals” would be denied as “It is not the case that all men are rational animals” or as converted to “Some men are not rational animals.” But here we do not have a syntactical contradiction of the form “A and not-A.” Thus, defining analyticity as resulting in a contradiction when denied does not suffice, because we still need a formal account of contradiction (for these cases where it is not syntactically apparent.)]

Kant’s cleavage between analytic and synthetic truths was foreshadowed in Hume’s distinction between relations of ideas and matters of fact, and in Leibniz’s distinction between truths of reason and truths of fact. Leibniz spoke of the truths of reason as true in all possible worlds. Picturesqueness aside, this is to say that the truths of reason are those which could not possibly be false. In the same vein we hear analytic statements defined as statements whose denials are self-contradictory. But this definition has, small explanatory value; for the notion of self-contradictoriness, in the quite broad sense needed for this definition of analyticity, stands in exactly the same need of clarification as does the notion of analyticity itself.2 The two notions are the two sides of a single dubious coin.

(20)

2. See White, op. cit., p. 324.

(20)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.2

[Reformulation Kant’s Notion of Analyticity as Being True by its Meanings and Independently of Fact]

 

[For Kant, an analytic statement is one that “attributes to its subject no more than is already conceptually contained in the subject. (20) Quine notes two problems with this definition: {1} it is limited only to statements in a subject-predicate form (and presumably there are analytic statements not of this form, but Quine does not mention any here) and {2} its notion of containment remains only at a metaphysical level (perhaps because it is not defined formally). Quine sees Kant’s intent and redefines Kant’s analyticity as “a statement is analytic when it is true by virtue of meanings and independently of fact.” (21) We turn now to the notion of meaning used here.]

 

[ditto. Here are some relevant passages from Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason:

On the difference between analytic and synthetic judgments.

In all judgments in which the relation of a subject to the predicate is thought […], this relation is possible in two different ways. Either the predicate B belongs to the subject A as something that is (covertly) contained in this concept A; or B lies entirely outside the concept A, though to be sure it stands in connection with it. In the first case I call the judgment analytic, in the second synthetic. Analytic judgments (affirmative ones) are thus those in which the connection of the predicate is thought through identity, but those in which this connection is thought without identity are to be called synthetic judgments. One could also call the former judgments of clarification and the latter judgments of amplification, since through the predicate the former do not add anything to the concept of the subject, but only break it up by means of analysis into its component concepts, which were already thought in it (though confusedly); while the latter, on the contrary, add to the concept of the subject a predicate that was not thought in it at all, and could not have been extracted from it through any analysis; e.g., if I say: “All bodies are extended,” then this is an analytic judgment. For I do not need to go outside the concept that I combine with the word “body” in order to find that extension is connected with it, but rather I need only to analyze that concept, i.e., become conscious of the manifold that I always think in it, in order to encounter this predicate therein; it is therefore an analytic judgment. On the contrary, if I say: “All bodies are heavy,” then the predicate is something entirely different from that which I think in the mere concept of a body in general. The addition of such a predicate thus yields a synthetic judgment.

Now from this it is clear: 1) that through analytic judgments our cognition is not amplified at all, but rather the concept, which I already | have, is set out, and made intelligible to me; 2) that in synthetic judgments I must have in addition to the concept of the subject something else (X) on which the understanding depends in cognizing a predicate that does not lie in that concept as nevertheless belonging to it.

In the case of empirical judgments or judgments of experience there is no difficulty here. For this X is the complete experience of the object that I think through some concept A, which constitutes only a part of this experience. For although I do not at all include the predicate of weight in the concept of a body in general, the concept nevertheless designates the complete experience through a part of it, to which I can therefore add still other parts of the very same experience as belonging to the former. I can first cognize the concept of body analytically through the marks of extension, of impenetrability, of shape, etc., which are all thought in this concept. But now I amplify my cognition and, in looking back to the experience from which I had extracted this concept of body, I find that weight is also always connected with the previous marks. Experience is therefore that X that lies outside the concept A and on which the possibility of the synthesis of the predicate of weight B with the concept A is grounded.

(Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, 130-131)

]

 

Kant conceived of an analytic statement as one that attributes to its subject no more than is already conceptually contained in the subject. | This formulation has two shortcomings : it limits itself to statements of subject-predicate form, and it appeals to a notion of containment which is left at a metaphorical level. But Kant’s intent, evident more from the use he makes of the notion of analyticity than from his definition of it, can be restated thus : a statement is analytic when it is true by virtue of meanings and independently of fact. Pursuing this line, let us examine the concept of meaning which is presupposed.

(20-21)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.3

[Meaning as Not Referential Naming]

 

[Meaning cannot be mere reference, because there are cases where two different names name the same thing, but each name has a different meaning, as for instance Frege’s ‘Evening Star = Morning Star’. As the two names are not identical in meaning, this statement is not analytic. (In fact, the meaning of ‘the evening star’ is almost the opposite of the meaning of ‘morning star’.) Also the identity made between the two is a statement of fact that is demonstrated through astronomical observation. (Thus it does not fulfill either of the Kantian requirements that an analytic statement be “true by virtue of meanings and independently of fact.”).]

 

[ditto]

We must observe to begin with that meaning is not to be identified with naming, or reference. Consider Frege’s example of ‘Evening Star’ and ‘Morning Star’. Understood not merely as a recurrent evening apparition but as a body, the Evening Star is the planet Venus, and the Morning Star is the same. The two singular terms name the same thing. But the meanings must be treated as distinct, since the· identity ‘Evening Star = Morning Star’ is a statement of fact established by astronomical observation. If ‘Evening Star’ and ‘Morning Star’ were alike in meaning, the identity ‘Evening Star = Morning Star’ would be analytic.

(21)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.4

[Russell’s “Author of Waverley” as Another Example of an Identifying Naming Statement That Is Not Analytical]

 

[Another example of a case where equated names do not render an analytic statement is Russell’s “Scott is the author of Waverley.”]

 

[ditto. It seems Sir Walter Scott wrote Waverley anonymously, and published certain subsequent writings under “the author of Waverley.” (see here and here) And “His identity as the author of the novels was widely rumoured, and in 1815 Scott was given the honour of dining with George, Prince Regent, who wanted to meet ‘the author of Waverley’’.” (source for this quote) Here are some relevant passages from Russell’s “On Denoting”:

If we say “Scott is the author of Waverley,” we assert an identity of denotation with a difference of meaning.”

(483)

If a is identical with b, whatever is true of the one is true of the other, and either may be substituted for the other in any proposition without altering the truth or falsehood of that proposition. Now George IV. wished to know whether Scott was the author of Waverley; and in fact Scott was the author of Waverley. Hence we may substitute Scott for the author of “Waverley,” and thereby prove that George IV. wished to know whether Scott was Scott. Yet an interest in the law of identity can hardly be attributed to the first gentleman of Europe.

(485)

Quine’s point might seem to be the following. George IV knew about the author of Waverley, and he may have even known Sir Walter Scott. But neither name is contained in the other.]

Again there is Russell’s example of ‘Scott’ and ‘the author of Waverley’. Analysis of the meanings of words was by no means sufficient to reveal to George IV that the person named by these two singular terms was one and the same.

(21)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.5

[Abstract Terms as Also Having This Problem (“9” and “The Number of Planets”)]

 

[Even with abstract terms, like number values,  we still have this problem, as “9” and “the number of planets” names one and the same abstract entity (the number value of nine), but the equation of the two is not analytic; for, observation was needed to make that equation, and a reflection on their meanings is insufficient too.]

 

[ditto]

The distinction between meaning and naming is no less important at the level of abstract terms. The terms ‘9’ and ‘the number of planets’ name one and the same abstract entity but presumably must be regarded as unlike in meaning; for astronomical observation was needed, and not mere reflection on meanings, to determine the sameness of the entity in question.

(21)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.6

[Meaning and Extension for General Terms (“Creature with a Heart” and “Creature with a Kidney”]

 

[A general term or predicate does not name an entity, but it is true of an entity or entities, or of none. The extension of a general term is that class of all entities that a general term is true of. With singular terms, we distinguished its meaning from its extension (Evening Star and Morning Star have the same extension, the planet Venus, but different meanings); similarly, we must do the same for general terms. So for example, the general terms “creature with a heart” and “creature with a kidney” may have an identical extension (supposing all creatures with the one organ also in fact have the other), but they are not alike in meaning.]

 

[ditto]

Thus far we have been considering singular terms. With general terms, or predicates, the situation is somewhat different but parallel. Whereas a singular term purports to name an entity, abstract or concrete, a general term does not; but a general term is true of an entity, or of each of many, or of none. The class of all entities of which a general term is true is called the extension of the term. Now paralleling the contrast between the meaning of a singular term and the entity named, we must distinguish equally between the meaning of a general term and its extension. The general terms ‘creature with a heart’ and | ‘creature with a kidney’, e.g., are perhaps alike in extension but unlike in meaning.

(21-22)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.7

[Intention (Meaning)/Connotation Vs. Extension/Denotation]

 

[We sometimes contrast intension (or meaning) and connotation with extension or denotation.]

 

[ditto]

Confusion of meaning with extension, in the case of general terms, is less common than confusion of meaning with naming in the case of singular terms. It is indeed a commonplace in philosophy to oppose intension (or meaning) to extension, or, in a variant vocabulary, connotation to denotation.

(22)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.8

[Aristotle’s Essence as Being Similar to Meaning, but Not Identical]

 

[Aristotle’s notion of essence was a forerunner for what we now call intension (meaning). Aristotle distinguishes the essential from the accidental, so for humans, it is essential to be rational, but it is accidental to have two legs. Quine notes a problem. Consider a human person. They will be both rational and two-legged. Quine observes however that we may classify this person either as a human or a biped. Insofar as they are a human, their rationality is essential and their bipedalism is not. But insofar as they are a biped, their two-leggedness is essential and their rationality is not. (Here Quine claims that we are dealing with meanings rather than essences. We might say under a doctrine of essences that for some particular individual person, their rationality is essential and their bipedalism is not. However, under a doctrine of meanings, for this individual’s predicates of being rational and bipedal, it cannot be said that one of them is essential and the other is not. For, by the same reasoning that we would use to designate one over the other, we may equally use it to designate the other over the first. (We might say, “here is a human,” and take their rationality as essential; or, for the same person, we might say, “here is a biped” and take their two-leggedness as essential. This is because in that case we are concerned with meanings (of “human” and of “biped”) rather than with the entity itself’s proper essence).) “Things had essences, for Aristotle, but only linguistic forms have meanings. Meaning is what essence becomes when it is divorced from the object of reference and wedded to the word.” (22)]

 

[ditto]

The Aristotelian notion of essence was the forerunner, no doubt, of the modern notion of intension or meaning. For Aristotle it was essential in men to be rational, accidental to be two-legged. But there is an important difference between this attitude and the doctrine of meaning. From the latter point of view it may indeed be conceded (if only for the sake of argument) that rationality is involved in the meaning of the word ‘man’ while two-leggedness is not; but two-leggedness may at the same time be viewed as involved in the meaning of ‘biped’ while rationality is not. Thus from the point of view of the doctrine of meaning it makes no sense to say of the actual individual, who is at once a man and a biped, that his rationality is essential and his two-leggedness accidental or vice versa. Things had essences, for Aristotle, but only linguistic forms have meanings. Meaning is what essence becomes when it is divorced from the object of reference and wedded to the word.

(22)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.9

[Difficulty in Defining What Kind of Entities Meanings Are]

 

[In a theory of meaning, we would need to explain what kind of objects meanings are. They seem to be ideas. For semanticists, they are mental ideas. For others, they are Platonic ideas. But these characterizations are not sufficient because such entities are too elusive to erect “a fruitful science about them.” (22) Some things are often not clear about such entities: {1} whether we have two or one; and {2} when linguistic forms are synonymous or not. ]

 

[ditto]

For the theory of meaning the most conspicuous question is as to the nature of its objects: what sort of things are meanings? They are evidently intended to be ideas, somehow – mental ideas for some semanticists, Platonic ideas for others. Objects of either sort are so elusive, not to say debatable, that there seems little hope of erecting a fruitful science about them. It is not even clear, granted meanings, when we have two and when we have one; it is not clear when linguistic forms should be regarded as synonymous, or alike in meaning, and when they should not. If a standard of synonymy should be arrived at, we may reasonably expect that the appeal to meanings as entities will not have played a very useful part in the enterprise.

(22)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.10

[Defining Meaning as Superfluous]

 

[But once we distinguish a theory of meaning from a theory of reference, we can then think of meanings just in terms of synonymy of linguistic forms and the analyticity of statements.]

 

[ditto]

A felt need for meant entities may derive from an earlier failure to appreciate that meaning and reference are distinct. Once the theory of meaning is sharply separated from the theory of reference, it is a short step to recognizing as the business of the theory of meaning | simply the synonymy of linguistic forms and the analyticity of statements; meanings themselves, as obscure intermediary entities, may well be abandoned.

(22-23)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.11

[Abandoning Meaning for Defining Analyticity]

 

[We began wondering how to define analyticity. (We saw in the Kantian conception that it can be understood as being true by meanings and independently of fact. See 1.2. We distinguished meaning from extension. Then we found that meanings are hard to define and unnecessary when we have extension.) We now no longer consider a “special realm of entities called meanings.” (23) That means we must find other ways to understand analyticity.]

 

[ditto]

The description of analyticity as truth by virtue of meanings started us off in pursuit of a concept of meaning. But now we have abandoned the thought of any special realm of entities called meanings. So the problem of analyticity confronts us anew.

(23)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

1.12

[Logically True Analytic Statements]

 

[Statements that are often considered analytic in philosophy are generally of two types. {1} Ones that are logically true, for instance (1) No unmarried man is married. (This is true no matter what the interpretations are of the terms. It is formally true.)]

 

[ditto]

Statements which are analytic by general philosophical acclaim are not, indeed, far to seek. They fall into two classes. Those of the first class, which may be called logically true, are typified by:

(1) No unmarried man is married.

The relevant feature of this example is that it is not merely true as it stands, but remains true under any and all reinterpretations of ‘man’ and ‘married’. If we suppose a prior inventory of logical particles, comprising ‘no’, ‘un-’, ‘not’, ‘if’, ‘then’, ‘and’, etc., then in general a logical truth is a statement which is true and remains true under all reinterpretations of its components other than the logical particles.

(23)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

1.13

[Statements Made Logically True by Substitutions]

 

[{2} The other kind of analytic statements are ones that can be rendered into a logically true format by substituting synonyms. For example, (2) “No bachelor is married” can be rendered “No unmarried man is married” but substituting the synonyms “bachelor” and “unmarried man”. Yet, we do not have a proper (formal?) characterization of these kinds of analytic statements, especially since we do not have a (formal?) definition of synonymy. Thus we do not have an adequate (formal?) characterization of analyticity.]

 

[ditto]

But there is also a second class of analytic statements, typified by:

(2) No bachelor is married.

The characteristic of such a statement is that it can be turned into a logical truth by putting synonyms for synonyms; thus (2) can be turned into (1) by putting ‘unmarried man’ for its synonym ‘bachelor’. We still lack a proper characterization of this second class of analytic statements, and therewith of analyticity generally, inasmuch as we have had in the above description to lean on a notion of “synonymy” which is no less in need of clarification than analyticity itself.

(23)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

1.14

[Carnap’s Definition of Logical Truths (Analyticity)]

 

[Carnap defines analyticity in the following way. We begin by assigning all the truth values to every atomic statement in a language. Each complete combination of assignments for all the atomic sentences is what he calls a “state description.” We can then compositionally build up the complex statements of the language using logical means, with their truth values being computable based on logical laws. A statement is analytic when it is true under every state description. Since a state description is like a possible world (it is one combination of facts), this can be seen as following Leibniz’ notion of being true in all possible worlds. (Quine then explains a problem with this conception: if the language has extralogical synonym-pairs, such as ‘bachelor’ and ‘unmarried man’, then statements like “All bachelors are married” will turn out to be synthetic rather than analytic. Thus) “The criterion in terms of state-descriptions is a reconstruction at best of logical truth.” (24)]

 

[ditto. (Note: I did not understand Quine’s objection. According to Quine, a statement is analytically true (L-true) in a system if it is true in all possible state-descriptions. It is L-false if its negation is L-true, meaning that the statement does not hold in any state description.  The sentence is L-determinate if it is either L-true or L-false. And it is L-indeterminate or factual (synthetic) if it is not L-determinate, meaning that there is at least one state-description in which it holds and at least one in which it does not hold. (See Carnap block quotes below.) Now, suppose two cases. {1} In our system, we have a way to derive formulas based on meaning, so in worlds where ‘John is a bachelor’ is true, then in that same world, ‘John is married’ is false (and vice versa). That would presumably make ‘All bachelors are married’ false in every state description. That would make ‘All bachelors are married’ L-false, and thus L-determinate. As such, it would not be synthetic. Yet, Quine claims it makes it synthetic. I did not understand why yet. (I can only see it working if it is both true and false that John is a bachelor and both true and false that John is married.) However, it also would not be analytic, because it is not true in all worlds. {2} In the second case, Quine says we do not have such sentences with mutually dependent truth values. But does he mean we cannot have both “bachelor” and “married” in the same world? What kind of a language would we have without terms that imply opposite meanings? Would it be just a formal system of symbols? Or is he saying that we do have ‘John is a bachelor’ and ‘John is married’ , but the truth of the one does not entail the falsity of the other? Still, that would not make “All bachelors are married” analytic, because there would still be worlds where we assign ‘John is a bachelor’ as true and ‘John is married’ as false. Thus still “All bachelors are married” would not hold in every possible world (state description). So I am not sure what Quine’s objection is here yet.)  Below are some relevant passages from Carnap’s text.

In order to speak about expressions in a general way, we often use ‘Ai’, ‘Aj’, etc.,  for expressions of any kind and ‘Si’, ‘Sj’, etc., for sentences ...

(Carnap 4. Note: here and below, the bold “A” should instead be Mathematical Bold Fraktur Capital A; and the Bold “S” should be Mathematical Bold Fraktur Capital S)

The task of making more exact a vague or not quite exact concept used in everyday life or in an earlier stage of scientific or logical development, | or rather of replacing it by a newly constructed, more exact concept, belongs among the most important tasks of logical analysis and logical construction. We call this the task of explicating, or of giving an explication for, the earlier concept; this earlier concept, or sometimes the term used for it, is called the explicandum; and the new concept, or its term, is called an explicatum of the old one.  Thus, for instance, Frege and, later, Russell took as explicandum the term ‘two’ in the not quite exact meaning in which it is used in everyday life and in applied mathematics; they proposed as an explicatum for it an exactly defined concept, namely, the class of pair-classes [...]; other logicians have proposed other explicata for the same explicandum. Many concepts now defined in semantics are meant as explicata for concepts earlier used in everyday language or in logic. For instance, the semantical concept of truth has as its explicandum the concept of truth as used in everyday language (if applied to declarative sentences) and in all of traditional and modern logic. [...] Generally speaking, it is not required that an explicatum have, as nearly as possible, the same meaning as the explicandum; it should, however, correspond to the explicandum in such a way that it can be used instead of the latter.

The L-terms (‘L-true’, etc.) which we shall now introduce are likewise intended as explicata for customary, but not quite exact, concepts. ‘L-true’ is meant as an explicatum for what Leibniz called necessary truth and Kant analytic truth. We shall indicate here briefly how this and the other L-terms can be defined.

(Carnap 7-8)

A class of sentences in S1 which contains for every atomic sentence either this sentence or its negation, but not both, and no other sentences, is called a state-description in S1 , because it obviously gives a complete description of a possible state of the universe of individuals with respect to all properties and relations expressed by predicates of the system. Thus the state-descriptions represent Leibniz' possible worlds or Wittgenstein's possible states of affairs.

It is easily possible to lay down semantical rules which determine for every sentence in S1 whether or not it holds in a given state-description. That a sentence holds in a state-description means, in nontechnical terms, that it would be true if the state-description (that is, all sentences belonging to it) were true. A few examples will suffice to show the nature of these rules: (1) an atomic sentence holds in a given state-description if and only if it belongs to it; (2) ~Si holds in a given state-description if and only if Si does not hold in it; (3) Si Sj, holds in a state-description if and only if either Si holds in it or Sj or both; ...

(Carnap 9)

Our concept of L-truth is, as mentioned above, intended as an explicatum for the familiar but vague concept of logical or necessary or analytic truth as explicandum. This explicandum has sometimes been characterized as truth based on purely logical reasons, on meaning alone, independent of the contingency of facts. Now the meaning of a sentence, its interpretation, is determined by the semantical rules (the rules of designation and the rules of ranges in the method explained above). Therefore, it seems well in accord with the traditional concept which we take as explicandum, if we require of any explicatum that it fulfil the following condition:

2-1. Convention. A sentence Si is L-true in a semantical system S if and only if Si is true in S in such a way that its truth can be established on the basis of the semantical rules of the system S alone, without any reference to (extra-linguistic) facts.

This is not yet a definition of L-truth. It is an informal formulation of a condition which any proposed definition of L-truth must fulfil in order to be adequate as an explication for our explicandum. Thus this convention has merely an explanatory and heuristic function.

How shall we define L-truth so as to fulfil the requirement 2-1? A way is suggested by Leibniz' conception that a necessary truth must hold in all possible worlds. Since our state-descriptions represent the possible worlds, this means that a sentence is logically true if it holds in all state-descriptions. This leads to the following definition:

2-2. Definition. A sentence Si is L-true (in S1) =Df  Si holds in every state-description (in S1).

(Carnap 10)

2-3. Definitions

a. Si  is L-false in (S1) =Df ~Si is L-true.

[...]

d. Si is L-determinate (in S1) =Df Si  is either L-true or L-false.

[...]

2-4. Si is L-false if and only if Si does not hold in any state-description.

(Carnap 11)

We have seen that our concept of L-truth fulfils our earlier convention 2-1. Therefore, according to the definition 2-3d, a sentence is L-determinate if and only if the semantical rules, independently of facts, suffice for establishing its truth-value, that is, either its truth or its falsity. This suggests the following definition, 2-7, as an explication for what Kant called synthetic judgments. The subsequent result, 2-8, which follows from the definition, shows that the concept defined is indeed adequate as an explicatum.

2-7. Definition. Si is L-indeterminate or factual (in S1) =Df   Si  is not L-determinate.

2-8. A sentence is factual if and only if there is at least one state-description in which it holds and at least one in which it does not hold.

(Carnap 12)

]

In recent years Carnap has tended to explain analyticity by appeal to what he calls state-descriptions.3 A state-description is any exhaustive assignment of truth values to the atomic, or noncompound, statements of the language. All other statements of the language are, Carnap assumes, built up of their component clauses by means of the familiar logical devices, in such a way that the truth value of any complex statement is fixed for each state-description by specifiable logical laws. A statement is then explained as analytic when it comes out true under every state-description. This account is an adaptation | of Leibniz’s “true in all possible worlds.” But note that this version of analyticity serves its purpose only if the atomic statements of the language are, unlike ‘John is a bachelor’ and ‘John is married’, mutually independent. Otherwise there would be a state-description which assigned truth to ‘John is a bachelor’ and falsity to ‘John is married’, and consequently ‘All bachelors are married’ would turn out synthetic rather than analytic under the proposed criterion. Thus the criterion of analyticity in terms of state-descriptions serves only for languages devoid of extralogical synonym-pairs, such as ‘bachelor’ and ‘unmarried man’: synonym-pairs of the type which give rise to the “second class” of analytic statements. The criterion in terms of state-descriptions is a reconstruction at best of logical truth.

(23-24)

3. R. Carnap, Meaning and Necessity (Chicago, 1947), pp. 9ff.; Logical Foundations of Probability (Chicago, 1950), pp. 70ff.

(23)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

1.15

[Turning Instead to Analyticity From Synonymy]

 

[Yet, Carnap’s main concern was clarifying probability and induction, not analyticity, which is our concern, “and here the major difficulty lies not in the first class of analytic statements, the logical truths, but rather in the second class, which depends on the notion of synonymy.” (23)]

 

[ditto]

I do not mean to suggest that Carnap is under any illusions on this point. His simplified model language with its state-descriptions is aimed primarily not at the general problem of analyticity but at another purpose, the clarification of probability and induction. Our problem, however, is analyticity; and here the major difficulty lies not in the first class of analytic statements, the logical truths, but rather in the second class, which depends on the notion of synonymy.

(24)

[contents]

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography:

Quine, W. V. “Two Dogmas of Empiricism.” The Philosophical Review 60, no. 1 (1951): 20–43.

 

 

Carnap, Rudolf. Meaning and Necessity: A Study in Semantics and Modal Logic. Chicago: University of Chicago, 1947.

 

Kant, Immanuel. Critique of Pure Reason. Edited and translated by Paul Guyer and Allen W. Wood. Cambridge: Cambridge University, 1998.

 

Leibniz, Gottfried. “Monadology.” In Philosophical Texts, edited and translated by Richard Francks and Roger Woolhouse, 267–81. Oxford: Oxford University, 1998.

 

Russell, Bertrand. “On Denoting.” Mind 14, no. 56 (1905): 479–93.

 

White, Morton. “The Analytic and the Synthetic: An Untenable Dualism.” In John Dewey: Philosopher of Science and Freedom. a Symposium, edited by Sidney Hook, 316–30. New York: Dial, 1950.

 

 

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17 Apr 2017

Hume (4.2) Enquiry concerning Human Understanding, “Sceptical Doubts concerning the Operations of the Understanding. Part II”

 

by Corry Shores

 

[Search Blog Here. Index-tags are found on the bottom of the left column.]

 

[Central Entry Directory]

[David Hume, entry directory]

[Hume, Enquiry concerning Human Nature, entry directory]

 

[The following is summary. Any boldface in quotations or bracketed commentary is my own. Proofreading is incomplete, so there are still typos present. I apologize for the distractions. Block quotations of this text are copied from the Project Gutenberg online text. Paragraph enumerations follow those of the print text.]

 

 

 

 

David Hume

 

An Enquiry concerning Human Nature

 

Section IV:

Sceptical Doubts concerning the Operations of the Understanding

 

Part II

 

 

 

Brief summary:

We have knowledge either of {1} relations of ideas, which are logically certain (because their contraries imply contradictions), as for example mathematical equations, or we have knowledge of {2} matters of fact, which are probable, because their contraries are not contradictions, as for example ‘the sun will rise tomorrow’ (for, it is not a contradiction to think, ‘the sun will not rise tomorrow’). We trust such conclusions regarding matters of fact, because we come to have knowledge of causal relations governing such regularities. And this causal knowledge is obtainable only through experience. The basis of this kind of knowledge is the assumption that like causes produce like effects, and thus that the future will resemble the past. We once ate bread and learned it was nourishing. Then when seeing other bread-like things, we are more likely to infer they will be nourishing, with each uniform experience pushing us more toward drawing that conclusion. Suppose there really was a cognitive path going from the premises to the inductive conclusion. There would be then one form of reasoning or another that allows us to make that intermediary step. But there are only two kinds of reasoning, and neither makes this allowance. One kind is demonstrative reasoning, which concerns the relations of ideas and whose conclusions are necessary on account of the absurdity of their negations. But inductive sorts of conclusions are not logically necessary. The only other sort of reasoning is moral reasoning, which concerns matters of fact and existence. Here however the conclusions are only probable. But we cannot use moral reasoning to ground inductive reasoning, because it itself uses inductive reasoning; we cannot say that inductive reasoning can be trusted on account of it having proven to be reliable in the past, because we would be using an inductive principle for our justification, where it is that very inductive principle we are trying to find justification for. But there also is no deductive reasoning to draw these conclusions about the future. To understand why, we consider an illustration. Suppose you eat one egg. It has a certain taste. Then we eat a hundred more on other occasions, with each case giving the same taste. After that uniform series, we conclude without much hesitation upon seeing another egg that it will have that same taste. But when we ate an egg the second time, we were not nearly so quick to draw that conclusion. We instead waited to see. So were there some deductive reasoning to allow us to draw this conclusion about its taste, it would have been available to us from the first instance, allowing us to infer immediately that all forthcoming instances will be the same. And it is not enough to say that we trust them just because they are reliable enough for our practical purposes. For, this does nothing to explain the reasoning underlining how the inferences are made in the first place. One might object that this reasoning for inductive inferences exists, but we just have not found it yet. However, we can be sure that it does not exist, because creatures incapable of rational thinking (like infants and animals)  have no problems drawing such inductive inferences.

 

 

 

 

 

Summary

 

 

4.2.14

[Our knowledge of matters of fact is based on knowledge of cause and effect, which in turn is based on experience. But what is the basis for reliable knowledge of experience?]

 

[In the prior section, we noted there are two sorts of objects of human reason or enquiry. The first kind are relations of ideas. They are always certain on account of logical necessity, as their negation is inconceivable. An example are mathematical formulas. The other kind are matters of fact. They are possible, and not certain, on account of their contrary claims being conceivable, as in, “the sun will rise tomorrow.” Yet we trust much of our knowledge in matters of fact. This is because we assume that they are governed by laws and relations of cause and effect, which hold consistently. We also determined that no knowledge of cause and effect can be deduced a priori but rather must be discovered by experience.] We now wonder, what is the basis for us to to draw reliable conclusions from experience?

But we have not yet attained any tolerable satisfaction with regard to the question first proposed. Each solution still gives rise to a new question as difficult as the foregoing, and leads us on to farther enquiries. When it is asked, What is the nature of all our reasonings concerning matter of fact? the proper answer seems to be, that they are founded on the relation of cause and effect. When again it is asked, What is the foundation of all our reasonings and conclusions concerning that relation? it may be replied in one word, Experience. But if we still carry on our sifting humour, and ask, What is the foundation of all conclusions from experience? this implies a new question, which may be of more difficult solution and explication. Philosophers, that give themselves airs of superior wisdom and sufficiency, have a hard task when they encounter persons of inquisitive dispositions, who push them from every corner to which they retreat, and who are sure at last to bring them to some dangerous dilemma. The best expedient to prevent this confusion, is to be modest in our pretensions; and even to discover the difficulty ourselves before it is objected to us. By this means, we may make a kind of merit of our very ignorance.

(online / 23)

 

 

 

4.2.15

[Knowledge from experience, as we will see, is not based in reasoning.]

 

Hume will not here tell us what such knowledge from experience is based on. He will only explain that we know it is not from reasoning or other cognitive processes.

I shall content myself, in this section, with an easy task, and shall pretend only to give a negative answer to the question here proposed. I say then, that, even after we have experience of the operations of cause and effect, our conclusions from that experience are not founded on reasoning, or any process of the understanding. This answer we must endeavour both to explain and to defend.

(online / 23)

 

 

4.2.16

[Our knowledge of matters of fact involves an inductive inference that things with like sensible features have like causal properties. We assume that all things looking identical to bread have similar nourishing powers. But while we can know this causal feature holds in the past occasions we experienced, it is not obvious how we can be certain about future ones. The grounds for this inductive inference are obscure.]

 

Our senses only give us superficial properties of objects, like color and weight, but they do not tell us the kinds of “powers and principles” behind the object’s causal capacities. So we might see that bread is brown and weighs some small amount, but we cannot from those data know it has the capacity to nourish a human body. And we can observe bodies moving, but we cannot see the inertia itself. However, whenever two things have the same observable features, we are quick to conclude they have the same causal powers. So when seeing something that looks identical to bread, we infer it has the same nourishing power. Now, we can be sure that in the prior and first instance that the bread was nourishing. But Hume wonders how we can infer in future instances of objects with similar features that they will be nourishing too. [For, as we noted, its nourish powers are not given in the features. So those features alone are not an adequate indication. We need some other mental operation to extend the findings of the prior instance to the future one.] Hume says there is some “medium” connecting past observations with inferences about future ones. He does not know what that is, but those who think it does exist and is the source of conclusions on matters of fact must produce it.

It must certainly be allowed, that nature has kept us at a great distance from all her secrets, and has afforded us only the knowledge of a few superficial qualities of objects; while she conceals from us those powers and principles on which the influence of those objects entirely depends. Our senses inform us of the colour, weight, and consistence of bread; but neither sense nor reason can ever inform us of those qualities which fit it for the nourishment and support of a human body. Sight or feeling conveys an idea of the actual motion of bodies; but as to that wonderful force or power, which would carry on a moving body for ever in a continued change of place, and which bodies never lose but by communicating it to others; of this we cannot form the most distant conception. But notwithstanding this ignorance of natural powers6 and principles, we always presume, when we see like sensible qualities, that they have like secret powers, and expect that effects, similar to those which we have experienced, will follow from them. If a body of like colour and consistence with that bread, which we have formerly eat, be presented to us, we make no scruple of repeating the experiment, and foresee, with certainty, like nourishment and support. Now this is a process of the mind or thought, of which I would willingly know the foundation. It is allowed on all hands that there is no known connexion between the sensible qualities and the secret powers; and consequently, that the mind is not led to form such a conclusion concerning their constant and regular conjunction, by anything which it knows of their nature. As to past Experience, it can be allowed to give direct and certain information of those precise objects only, and that precise period of time, which fell under its cognizance: but why this experience should be extended to future times, and to other objects, which for aught we know, may be only in appearance similar; this is the main question on which I would insist. The bread, which I formerly eat, nourished me; that is, a body of such sensible qualities was, at that time, endued with such secret powers: but does it follow, that other bread must also nourish me at another time, and that like sensible qualities must always be attended with like secret powers? The consequence seems nowise necessary. At least, it must be acknowledged that there is here a consequence drawn by the mind; that there is a certain step | taken; a process of thought, and an inference, which wants to be explained. 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.

(online / 24-25)

 

 

4.2.17

[We will examine all the branches of knowledge and see that none can ground the inductive inferences we make regarding matters of fact.]

 

[So we do not know what allows us to make the inductive inference. Hume will now delineate all the branches of knowledge to show that none allow us to make such inferences. (This will allow us to know that the inference is not based on any rational principle.)]

This negative argument must certainly, in process of time, become altogether convincing, if many penetrating and able philosophers shall turn their enquiries this way and no one be ever able to discover any connecting proposition or intermediate step, which supports the understanding in this conclusion. But as the question is yet new, every reader may not trust so far to his own penetration, as to conclude, because an argument escapes his enquiry, that therefore it does not really exist. For this reason it may be requisite to venture upon a more difficult task; and enumerating all the branches of human knowledge, endeavour to show that none of them can afford such an argument.

(online / 25)

 

 

4.2.18

[The are two kinds of reasoning: 1} demonstrative reasoning (which concerns the relations of ideas) and {2} moral reasoning (which concerns matters of fact and existence). Matters of fact do not involve demonstrative reasoning, because there is no contradiction in thinking that objects will have different properties in the future.]

 

Hume divides all sorts of reasoning into two kinds: {1} demonstrative reasoning and {2} moral reasoning. Demonstrative reasoning concerns the relations of ideas. [In the explanatory notes at the end, the editor defines demonstrative arguments in the following way.

demonstrative arguments: arguments that lead with total logical certainty from premiss(es) to conclusion, such as valid arguments in mathematics. See §10 of the Introduction, above.

(Peter Millican. “Explanatory Notes”, 191)

And from the editor’s Introduction:

Demonstrative reasoning is what can be loosely called ‘deductive’ reasoning, in which the steps of the argument proceed with absolute certainty based on the logical relations between the ideas concerned (e.g. the kind of argument used in mathematics, such as the proof of Pythagoras’ Theorem). Factual reasoning—which Hume also calls ‘moral’ and Locke had called ‘probable’—is now commonly called ‘inductive’ inference, encompassing all sorts of everyday reasoning in which we draw apparently reasonable (but less than logically certain) conclusions based on our personal experience, testimony, our understanding of how people and things behave, and so forth.

(Peter Millican. “Introduction”, xxxvii)

So inductive inference regarding matters of fact does not involve demonstrative argumentation, because the conclusions do not follow by logical necessity. This means also that the negation of the inductive inferences imply no contradiction.]

All reasonings may be divided into two kinds, namely, demonstrative reasoning, or that concerning relations of ideas, and moral reasoning, or that concerning matter of fact and existence. That there are no demonstrative arguments in the case seems evident; since it implies no contradiction that the course of nature may change, and that an object, seemingly like those which we have experienced, may be attended with different or contrary effects. 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? Is there any more intelligible proposition than to affirm, that all the trees will flourish in December and January, and decay in May and June? Now whatever is intelligible, and can be distinctly conceived, implies no contradiction, and can never be proved false by any demonstrative argument or abstract reasoning priori.

(online / 25)

Moral reasoning concerns matters of fact and existence.

 

 

 

4.2.19

[Our inductive arguments about the future can only be probable. And we cannot justify this sort of reasoning by saying that we may trust them because they often prove true. For, this is using circular reasoning by employing an argument based on probability to justify arguments of this very same kind.]

 

[I am not certain, but the next points seem to be the following. Inductive arguments about the future can only have more or less probability of being true. I do not understand what is meant by “arguments concerning existence”. It is apparently an idea we already addressed, but it does not seem to simply mean an argument based on a premise saying that something exists or having a conclusion make such a claim. Maybe it means an argument dealing with an actual situation rather than a general statement of law concerning any situation. I am not sure. At any rate, an important idea here is that our inductive arguments about the future suppose that things in the future will behave like they did in the past. We then ask, how can we know this? The next point seems to be that we cannot say that we know this with the following reasoning: in the past, there was always a high probability that the future is consistent with the past. I am not certain, but the problem here might be that we are trying to justify inductive reasoning, but we cannot use inductive reasoning to do so. I am not sure that is it, because suppose we wanted to justify deductive or demonstrable reasoning. Would we have to use some other sort of reasoning to do so? Let me quote so you can see. (I find objections to circularity to be tricky to grasp straightforwardly.)]

If we be, therefore, engaged by arguments to put trust in past experience, and make it the standard of our future judgement, these arguments must be probable only, or such as regard matter of fact and real existence, according to the division above mentioned. But that there is no argument of this kind, must appear, if our explication of that species of reasoning be admitted as solid and satisfactory. We have said that all arguments concerning existence are founded on the relation of cause and effect; that our knowledge of that relation is derived entirely from experience; and that all our experimental conclusions proceed upon the supposition that the future will be conformable to the past. To endeavour, therefore, the proof of this last supposition by probable arguments, or arguments regarding existence, must be evidently going in a circle, and taking that for granted, which is the very point in question.

(online / 26)

 

 

 

4.2.20

[Our inductive reasoning is based on the assumption that like causes will have like effects. But there is no act of deductive reasoning which allows us to make this conclusion. For, if it existed, we would be able to conclude all future cases of some experienced situation will have the same effects. But in fact, we first need a long series of uniform such experiences before we are inclined to draw such a conclusion.]

 

So, we trust that when causes appear similar, the effects will be similar. [I am not sure, but Hume’s next points might be the following. This is not an a priori notion. For, if it were, then we would for example upon eating an egg for the first time expect all future times to have the same taste and provide the same enjoyment. But in fact we need a long series of uniform events before we have such certainty about future cases. I do not understand the last point; maybe it is something like the following. Let me quote it first: “Now it seems evident that, if this conclusion were formed by reason, it would be as perfect at first, and upon one instance, as after ever so long a course of experience. But the case is far otherwise. 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? This question I propose as much for the sake of information, as with an intention of raising difficulties. I cannot find, I cannot imagine any such reasoning.” So we began by noting the first experience of eating eggs. We drew from that experience no conclusion about future such experiences of eggs. But to make this particular interpretation work, we need to think that we did draw a conclusion, namely that future instances may or may not be the same. After a hundred such experiences of eating eggs, we come to a different conclusion, which is that all future instances will be similar. (The difference being that the second conclusion has a greater degree of “certainty” that the future cases will resemble the prior ones.) Hume then wonders if there is some process of reasoning that causes us to draw the more determinate conclusion after many experiences. He says he cannot think of any. The point might be that were such reasoning available, we would have been able to draw the conclusion after the first instance. (Instead it seems that some kind of force of association alters our tendencies to draw inductive conclusions.)]

In reality, all arguments from experience are founded on the similarity which we discover among natural objects, and by which we are induced to expect effects similar to those which we have found to follow from such objects. And though none but a fool or madman will ever pretend to dispute the authority of experience, or to reject that great guide of human life, it may surely be allowed a philosopher to have so much curiosity at least as to examine the principle of human nature, which gives this mighty authority to experience, and makes us draw advantage from that similarity which nature has placed among different objects. From causes which appear similar we expect similar effects. This is the sum of all our experimental conclusions. Now it seems evident that, if this conclusion were formed by reason, it would be as perfect at first, and upon one instance, as after ever so long a course of experience. But the case is far otherwise. 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? This question I propose as much for the sake of information, as with an intention of raising difficulties. I cannot find, I cannot imagine any such reasoning. But I keep my mind still open to instruction, if any one will vouchsafe to bestow it on me.

(online / 26)

 

 

 

4.2.21

[How can we be sure that like causes will have like effects and thus that the future will resemble the past? We cannot. We can only trust inductive conclusions for practical reasons. But there is no reasoning that will take us from the premises to the inductive conclusion.]

 

If we just say that we infer the inductive conclusion, then we still need to explain [what interposing ideas allow us to move from premises to conclusion, as there is no necessary connection between them.] This inference is neither intuitive [as it not immediately apparent but only so after much repetition, perhaps] and it is not demonstrative [as it does not follow by necessity from the premises].  But of what nature is this inference that the future will resemble the past? [It is not enough to say that it is based on experience, because nothing prevents us from experiencing something different in the future.] [And again, we cannot say that inductive inference is reliable by pointing to its reliability in the past, because we are using the same point to conclude the same point, namely, that a uniformity of outcome is enough to predict future uniform outcomes.] [I do not follow the next points well. Maybe they are the following. Hume has us assume that all events up to now have been uniform. Nonetheless, on that basis alone, we cannot conclude they will remain uniform in the future. Hume says that the causal properties of objects might change. (He even says this happens sometimes for some objects, but he does not give more specifics.) Hume then notes that we cannot be protected from this possibility. Perhaps we might reply that our experiences are so consistent that they are worthy of trust. Hume it seems is acknowledging that for practical purposes we can have this trust. (So for example we can set our clocks at night expecting the sun will rise tomorrow.) But as philosophers, we demand more than a practical justification for certainty in our knowledge. (If really there are grounds to draw these inferences, rather than mere practical conveniences for doings so, we can still as philosophers demand to know what they are. To think of this another way, science, which uses this sort of inductive reasoning about the future to make predictions, can claim that for all practical purposes we can expect things to be the same in the future. We see this sort of defense from Richard Dawkins when he says, “It works, bitches” when facing the same philosophical challenge to inductive knowledge. But this means that science cannot make claims of truth. We cannot say these inferences are “true” but only that for practical purposes we will trust them.)]

Should it be said that, from a number of uniform experiments, we infer a connexion between the sensible qualities and the secret powers; this, I must confess, seems the same difficulty, couched in different terms. The question still recurs, on what process of argument this inference is founded? Where is the medium, the interposing ideas, which join propositions so very wide of each other? It is confessed that the colour, consistence, and other sensible qualities of bread appear not, of themselves, to have any connexion with the secret powers of nourishment and support. For otherwise we could infer these secret powers from the first appearance of these sensible qualities, without the aid of experience; contrary to the sentiment of all philosophers, and contrary to plain matter of fact. Here, then, is our natural state of ignorance with regard to the powers and influence of all objects. How is this remedied by experience? It only shows us a number of uniform effects, resulting from certain objects, and teaches us that those particular objects, at that particular time, were endowed with such powers and forces. When a new object, endowed with similar sensible qualities, is produced, we expect similar powers and forces, and look for a like effect. From a body of like colour and consistence with bread we expect like nourishment and support. But this surely is a step or progress of the mind, which wants to be explained. When a man says, I have found, in all past instances, such sensible qualities conjoined with such secret powers: And when he says, Similar sensible qualities will always be conjoined with similar secret powers, he is not guilty of a tautology, nor are these propositions in any respect the same. You say that the one proposition is an inference from the other. But you must confess that the inference is not intuitive; neither is it demonstrative: Of what nature is it, then? To say it is experimental, is begging the question. For all inferences from experience suppose, as their foundation, that the future will resemble the past, and that similar powers will be conjoined with similar sensible qualities. If there be any suspicion that the course of nature may change, and that the past may be no rule for the future, all experience becomes useless, and can give rise to no inference or conclusion. It is impossible, therefore, that any arguments from experience can prove this resemblance of the past to the future; since all these arguments are founded on the supposition of that resemblance. Let the course of things be allowed hitherto ever so regular; that alone, without some new argument or inference, proves not that, for the future, it will continue so. In vain do you pretend to | have learned the nature of bodies from your past experience. Their secret nature, and consequently all their effects and influence, may change, without any change in their sensible qualities. This happens sometimes, and with regard to some objects: Why may it not happen always, and with regard to all objects? What logic, what process of argument secures you against this supposition? My practice, you say, refutes my doubts. But you mistake the purport of my question. As an agent, I am quite satisfied in the point; but as a philosopher, who has some share of curiosity, I will not say scepticism, I want to learn the foundation of this inference. No reading, no enquiry has yet been able to remove my difficulty, or give me satisfaction in a matter of such importance. Can I do better than propose the difficulty to the public, even though, perhaps, I have small hopes of obtaining a solution? We shall at least, by this means, be sensible of our ignorance, if we do not augment our knowledge.

(online / 27-28)

 

 

4.2.22

[It could be that the rational justification for inductive inference exists but that we have not found it yet.]

 

[Hume then acknowledges that he might have simply failed to find the rational justification for inductive conclusions. He also notes that just because no one in the past has provided this reasoning, we cannot conclude that none exists. However, Hume still thinks we can be more or less sure of this in this case.]

I must confess that a man is guilty of unpardonable arrogance who concludes, because an argument has escaped his own investigation, that therefore it does not really exist. I must also confess that, though all the learned, for several ages, should have employed themselves in fruitless search upon any subject, it may still, perhaps, be rash to conclude positively that the subject must, therefore, pass all human comprehension. Even though we examine all the sources of our knowledge, and conclude them unfit for such a subject, there may still remain a suspicion, that the enumeration is not complete, or the examination not accurate. But with regard to the present subject, there are some considerations which seem to remove all this accusation of arrogance or suspicion of mistake.

(online / 28)

 

 

 

4.2.23

[We can be sure that is no rational justification for inductive inferences, because creatures incapable of rational thinking (like infants and animals)  have no problems drawing such inductive inferences.]

 

[We can know that there is no logical reasoning behind inductive inference, because creatures that have no capacity for reasoning still draw these “inferences”. Children, for example, learn from pain, like learning to keep their hands away from candles after once burning their hands on a candle flame. Hume then goes through possible responses. If we say the child draws this conclusion from some sort of argumentational or logical thinking, then we need to state that reasoning. Presumably we cannot produce it, perhaps because there is no such logical reasoning that we would ascribe to an infant (who has yet to learn language or how to correctly draw logical inferences). We also may not say that the argument cannot be given on account of it being very complicated or difficult, because then an infant would be incapable of conceiving it. The next response might be the following, but I am unsure. Suppose that we take a long while to produce the reasoning that the child used. This shows that we are wrong, perhaps because the child draws the inference instantly and not after much reflection. Hume says that if he is right that inductive inference is not rationally justifiable, than he has not made a great discovery. Perhaps this is his characteristic modesty, here based on the idea that he has only proved a negative and not discovered something positive. He then very cleverly says, “if I be wrong, I must acknowledge myself to be indeed a very backward scholar; since I cannot now discover an argument which, it seems, was perfectly familiar to me long before I was out of my cradle.” He is saying that probably his is right about this, because were he wrong, then he should be able to know something that was obvious to him since the time he was infant.]

It is certain that the most ignorant and stupid peasants—nay infants, nay even brute beasts—improve by experience, and learn the qualities of natural objects, by observing the effects which result from them. When a child has felt the sensation of pain from touching the flame of a candle, he will be careful not to put his hand near any candle; but will expect a similar effect from a cause which is similar in its sensible qualities and appearance. If you assert, therefore, that the understanding of the child is led into this conclusion by any process of argument or ratiocination, I may justly require you to produce that argument; nor have you any pretence to refuse so equitable a demand. You cannot say that the argument is abstruse, and may possibly escape your enquiry; since you confess that it is obvious to the capacity of | a mere infant. If you hesitate, therefore, a moment, or if, after reflection, you produce any intricate or profound argument, you, in a manner, give up the question, and confess that it is not reasoning which engages us to suppose the past resembling the future, and to expect similar effects from causes which are, to appearance, similar. This is the proposition which I intended to enforce in the present section. If I be right, I pretend not to have made any mighty discovery. And if I be wrong, I must acknowledge myself to be indeed a very backward scholar; since I cannot now discover an argument which, it seems, was perfectly familiar to me long before I was out of my cradle.

(online / 28-29)

 

 

 

 

 

 

From:

Hume, David. 2007. An Enquiry concerning Human Nature. Peter Millican (ed.). Oxford: Oxford University.

Text available online at:

http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/9662

PDF available at:

https://archive.org/details/enquiryconcernin00humeuoft

 

 

Or if otherwise noted:

Peter Millican. “Introduction.” In [see above].

Peter Millican. “Explanatory Notes.” In [see above].

 

 

 

 

 

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