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Knowledge
and Opinion - 2
by Mortimer Adler, Ph.D.
Let us begin with David Hume and then go on to
Immanuel Kant. The place to begin is with the
conclusion that Hume reached in the very closing
pages of his Enquiry Concerning Human
Understanding.
It is here that Hume proposes to adopt what he
calls "a more mitigated skepticism" than the
extreme form that denies that we can have any
knowledge at all -- that there is anything either
true or false. Accordingly, he concedes that we do
have knowledge of two sorts.
One is the kind of knowledge to be found in
mathematics. He refers to this as "abstract
science" because it involves no assertions or
judgments about matters of fact or real existence.
It deals only with the relation between our own
ideas -- our ideas of quantity and number. Here it
is possible to have demonstration and a measure of
certitude. But, he goes on to say, "all attempts to
extend this more perfect species of knowledge
beyond these bounds are mere sophistry and
illusion."
Our definitions of certain terms give us some
propositions or judgments that also have a measure
of certitude. Thus if we define injustice as a
violation of property, then we can be certain that
where there is no property, there can be no
injustice. But this is just a matter of definition.
Injustice can be defined differently, and so it is
not intrinsically impossible to think that there
can be injustice where there is no property.
Hume then tells us that, apart from mathematics,
"all other enquiries of men regard only matters of
fact and existence; and these are evidently
incapable of demonstration." The opposite of any
judgment that something exists or that it is such
and such is always possible. Judgments about
matters of fact and real existence can be supported
by evidence and reasons. When they are, they
constitute knowledge, not mere opinion; but they
are always knowledge that lacks certitude and falls
within the sphere of doubt -- the sphere of the
corrigible and the mutable.
Such knowledge depends upon our
sense-experience. "It is only experience," Hume
writes, "which teaches us the nature and bounds of
cause and effect, and enables us to infer the
existence of one object from that of another."
According to these criteria, Hume admits into the
sphere of empirical knowledge (as contrasted with
abstract science) such things as history,
geography, and astronomy, and also the sciences
"which treat of general facts
politics,
natural philosophy, physics, chemistry, etc." This
brings him to his thundering conclusion in the last
paragraph of the Enquiry:
- When we run over our libraries, persuaded of
these principles, what havoc must we make? If we
take in our hand any volume; of divinity or
school metaphysics, for instance; let us ask,
Does it contain any abstract reasoning
concerning quantity or number? No. Does it
contain any experimental reasoning concerning
matters of fact and existence? No. Commit it
then to the flames: for it can contain nothing
but sophistry and illusion.
The line that divides what deserves to be
honored and respected as genuine knowledge from
what should be dismissed as mere opinion (or worse,
as sophistry and illusion) is determined by two
criteria. (1) It is knowledge and can be called
science if it deals solely with abstractions and
involves no judgments about matters of fact or real
existence. Here we have mathematics and, together
with it, the science of logic. (2) It is knowledge,
if it deals with particular facts, as history and
geography do, or with general facts, as physics and
chemistry do.
In both cases, it is knowledge only to the
extent that it is based upon experimental
reasoning, involving empirical investigations of
the kind that occur in laboratories and
observatories, or methodical investigations of the
kind conducted by historians and geographers.
What did Hume exclude from the realm of
knowledge? Even though he refers to what he calls
"natural philosophy," which in his century was
identical with what we have come to call physical
science, his intention was to reject as sophistry
and illusion, or at least as mere opinion, what in
antiquity and in the Middle Ages was traditional
philosophy, including here a philosophy of nature,
or physics that is not experimental and does not
rely on empirical investigations, as well as
metaphysics and philosophical theology.
This view of knowledge and opinion comes down to
us in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries in the
form of a doctrine that has been variously called
positivism or scientism. The word "positivism"
derives its meaning from the fact that the
experimental or investigative sciences, and other
bodies of knowledge, such as history, that rely
upon investigation and research, came to be called
positive sciences.
Positivism, then, is the view that the only
genuine knowledge of reality or of the world of
observable phenomena (i.e., matters of fact and
existence) is to be found in the positive sciences.
Mathematics and logic are also genuine knowledge,
but they are not knowledge of the world of
observable phenomena, or of matters of fact and
real existence. The twentieth-century form of
scientism or positivism thus came to be called
"logical positivism."
Here we have one facet of the mistake about
knowledge and opinion, the other facet of which is
to be found in Immanuel Kant's Critique of Pure
Reason. The latter is by far the more serious
and the more far-reaching in its consequences.
Kant tells us that David Hume awakened him from
his dogmatic slumbers. His prior dogmatism, as well
as Hume's skepticism, which Kant also found
repugnant, was replaced by the critical philosophy
that he developed. It is also sometimes called a
transcendental philosophy because of its
transcendence with regard to experience.
In order to understand this, it is necessary,
first, to pay attention to two distinctions that
are operative in Kant's thinking. One is the
distinction between the a priori and the
a posteriori. The other is the distinction
between the analytic and the
synthetic.
The a priori, according to Kant, includes
whatever is in the mind prior to any
sense-experience and also whatever judgments it can
make that are not based upon sense experience. The
a posteriori is, of course, the opposite in
both respects.
The analytic consists of judgments the
truth of which depends entirely upon definitions.
Thus, if lead is defined as a nonconducting metal,
then the judgment that lead does not conduct
electricity is an analytically true judgment. So,
too, if man is defined as a rational animal, the
judgment that men have reason is analytically true.
In each example, the term that is predicated of the
subject being considered ("does not conduct
electricity" and "have reason") is already
contained within the definition of the subject
being considered ("lead" and "men").
Clearly, such analytical judgments can be, in
fact must be, a priori. Their truth depends
solely upon a definition of terms, not upon
sense-experience. Hume would have regarded such
analytical judgments as truths that deal with the
relation of our own ideas, not with matters of fact
and existence. John Locke, before him, regarded
them as mere verbal tautologies; in his words,
judgments that are "trifling and uninstructive."
Locke, in my judgment, is correct in dismissing
them as unworthy of serious consideration.
Earlier in this essay, I explained the character
of self-evident truths, truths that have certitude
and incorrigibility because it is impossible for us
to think their opposites. Such a truth as a finite
whole is greater than any of its parts is not
analytical in Kant's sense: its focal terms --
whole and part -- are indefinable. Nor is it a
priori in Kant's sense: its truth depends upon
our understanding of the terms whole and part, an
understanding that is derived from a single
experience, such as tearing a piece of paper into
pieces, thus dividing a whole into parts.
Philosophers since Kant have misconceived what
an earlier tradition in philosophy had understood
to be self-evident truths or axioms. They have
mistakenly accepted Kant's restriction of such
truths to verbal tautologies, to trifling and
uninstructive statements.
But this is not the worst of Kant's mistakes.
Much worse is his view about synthetic judgments
a priori. A synthetic judgment is not
trifling or uninstructive. It does not depend upon
an arbitrary definition of terms. It is the kind of
judgment that Hume regarded as a truth about
matters of fact or real existence. In every such
case, the opposite of what is asserted is possible
-- thinkable, conceivable. But for Hume, the very
fact that a judgment is synthetic involves its
dependence on experience of one sort or another. It
cannot, therefore, be a priori --
independent of sense experience.
To maintain that there are synthetic judgments
a priori, as Kant does, is, perhaps, the
single most revolutionary step that he took to
overcome the conclusions reached by Hume that he
found repugnant. What was his driving purpose in
doing so? It was to establish Euclidean geometry
and traditional arithmetic as sciences that not
only have certitude, but also contain truths that
are applicable to the world of our experience. It
was also to give the same status to Newtonian
physics.
To do this, Kant endowed the human mind with
transcendental forms of sense-apprehension or
intuition (the forms of space and time), and also
with the transcendental categories of the
understanding. These are not to be confused with
Descartes' "innate ideas." The mind brings these
transcendental forms and categories to experience,
thereby constituting the shape and character of the
experience we have.
According to Kant, the mind is not (as John
Locke rightly insisted it was in his refutation of
Cartesian innate ideas) a tabula rasa -- a
total blank -- until it acquires ideas initially
from sense-experience. Locke rightly subscribed to
the mediaeval maxim that there is nothing in the
mind that does not somehow derive from
sense-experience. It was this maxim that Kant
rejected.
The transcendental forms of sense-apprehension
and the transcendental categories of the
understanding are inherent in the mind and
constitute its structure prior to any
sense-experience. The common experience that all of
us share has the character it does have because it
has been given that character by the transcendental
structure of the human mind. It has been formed and
constituted by it. This elaborate machinery
invented by Kant enabled him to think that he had
succeeded in establishing and explaining the
certitude and incorrigibility of Euclidean
geometry, simple arithmetic, and Newtonian physics.
Three historic events suffice to show how illusory
was the view that he had succeeded in doing
that.
The discovery and development of the
non-Euclidean geometries and of modern number
theory should suffice to show how utterly
factitious was Kant's invention of the
transcendental forms of space and time as
controlling our sense-apprehensions and giving
certitude and reality to Euclidean geometry and
simple arithmetic.
Similarly, the replacement of Newtonian physics
by modern relativistic physics, the addition of
probabilistic or statistical laws to causal laws,
the development of elementary particle physics and
of quantum mechanics, should also suffice to show
how utterly factitious was Kant's invention of the
transcendental categories of the understanding to
give Newtonian physics certitude and
incorrigibility.
How anyone in the twentieth century can take
Kant's transcendental philosophy seriously is
baffling, even though it may always remain
admirable in certain respects as an extraordinarily
elaborate and ingenious intellectual invention.
So much for the illusory character of what Kant
claimed for his transcendental philosophy as an
attempt to give mathematics and natural science a
certitude and incorrigibility that they do not
possess. What about the critical character that
Kant claimed for his philosophy -- critical in the
sense that it would save us from the dogmatism of
traditional metaphysics, especially its cosmology
and natural theology?
Kant argues for the exclusion of traditional
metaphysics from the realm of genuine knowledge on
the grounds that it must employ concepts derived
from experience to make assertions that go beyond
experience -- the experience that is constituted by
the a priori structure of the human mind.
Where Hume dismissed traditional metaphysics as
sophistry or illusion, Kant dismissed it as
trans-empirical.
However, all the ideas used in metaphysics are
not empirical concepts. The idea of God, for
example, and the idea of the cosmos as a whole are
not concepts derived from sense-experience. They
are instead theoretical constructs. There is,
therefore, nothing invalid about employing such an
idea even if it goes beyond all the
sense-experience available to us. Let me add here
that, unlike an empirical concept, a theoretical
construct does not and cannot have any perceived
particular instances.
What I have just said about such metaphysical
concepts as God and the cosmos as a whole applies
equally to some of the most important ideas in
twentieth-century theoretical physics, such ideas
as the idea of quark, of certain elementary
particles, such as mesons, or of black holes. All
of these are theoretical constructs, not empirical
concepts.
Kant had no awareness of the distinction between
empirical concepts and theoretical constructs. His
reasons for dismissing traditional metaphysics as
devoid of the validity appropriate to genuine
knowledge would apply equally to much of
twentieth-century physics. Here, once more, we have
grounds for not taking much stock in Kant's claims
for the critical character of his philosophy.
Finally, we come to what is, perhaps, the most
serious mistake that modern philosophy inherited
from Kant -- the mistake of substituting idealism
for realism. Even though Locke and his successor
Hume made the mistake of thinking that the ideas in
our minds are the only objects we directly
apprehend, they somehow (albeit not without
contradicting themselves) regarded us as having
knowledge of a reality that is independent of our
minds. Not so with Kant.
The valid knowledge that we have is always and
only knowledge of a world we experience. But
precisely because it is a world as experienced by
us, it is not, according to Kant, a world
independent of our minds. It is not independent, as
we have already seen, because experience is
constituted by the transcendental or a priori
structure of our minds -- its forms of intuition or
apprehension and its categories of understanding.
Not being independent of our minds, it can hardly
be regarded as reality, for the essential
characteristic of the real is independence of the
human mind.
For Kant the only things that are independent of
the human mind are, in his words, "Dinge an sich"
-- things in themselves that are intrinsically
unknowable. This is tantamount to saying that the
real is the unknowable, and the knowable is ideal
in the sense that it is invested with the ideas
that our minds bring to it to make it what it
is.
The positivism or scientism that has its roots
in Hume's philosophical mistakes, and the idealism
and critical constraints that have their roots in
Kant's philosophical mistakes, generate many
embarrassing consequences that have plagued modern
thought since their day. In almost every case, the
trouble has consisted in the fact that later
thinkers tried to avoid the consequences without
correcting the errors or mistakes that generated
them.
In this short essay, it is impossible to deal
with the shortcomings, embarrassments, and
additional errors in nineteenth- and
twentieth-century thought. I will confine myself to
a brief treatment of knowledge and opinion that
corrects and avoids the philosophical mistakes made
by Hume and Kant.
--
To Part 3 --
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