Rene Descartes: Rationalism
Rene Descartes: Rationalism
Rene Descartes: Rationalism
Rationalism
In epistemology, rationalism is the view that "regards reason as the chief source and test of
knowledge"[1] or "any view appealing to reason as a source of knowledge or justification".[2] More
formally, rationalism is defined as a methodology or a theory "in which the criterion of the truth is
not sensory but intellectual and deductive".[3] Rationalists believe reality has an intrinsically
logical structure. Because of this, rationalists argue that certain truths exist and that the intellect
can directly grasp these truths. That is to say, rationalists assert that certain rational principles
exist in logic, mathematics, ethics, and metaphysics that are so fundamentally true that denying
them causes one to fall into contradiction. Rationalists have such a high confidence in reason that
proof and physical evidence are unnecessary to ascertain truth – in other words, "there are
significant ways in which our concepts and knowledge are gained independently of sense
experience".[4] Because of this belief, empiricism is one of rationalism's greatest rivals.
Different degrees of emphasis on this method or theory lead to a range of rationalist standpoints,
from the moderate position "that reason has precedence over other ways of acquiring knowledge"
to the more extreme position that reason is "the unique path to knowledge".[5] Given a pre-modern
understanding of reason, rationalism is identical to philosophy, the Socratic life of inquiry, or the
zetetic (skeptical) clear interpretation of authority (open to the underlying or essential cause of
things as they appear to our sense of certainty). In recent decades, Leo Strauss sought to revive
"Classical Political Rationalism" as a discipline that understands the task of reasoning, not as
foundational, but as maieutic. Rationalism should not be confused with rationality, nor with
rationalization.
In politics, Rationalism, since the Enlightenment, historically emphasized a "politics of reason"
centered upon rational choice, utilitarianism, secularism, and irreligion[6] – the latter aspects' anti-
traditionalism and antitheism helped politicians to adopt pluralistic rationalist methods regardless
of ideology.[7][8]
VII. CONCLUSION
Descartes can be appreciated for suggesting that once in a lifetime we should all cast away our
unexamined notions that we have previously taken uncritically, without question and held as
knowledge. Descartes asks us to challenge all of those ideas and try to empty our minds of all
preconceived notions and to act as neutral judges with respect to what is true. And for this we are
indebted to Descartes because this is precisely what the philosophers and scientists did that
followed him. Unlike Descartes, however, many scientists and philosophers did not end up
discovering the existence of any innate ideas, gods or evil demons, though others tried to defend
the possibility of such things. Some philosophers tried to rescue religion from science, and offered
the hypothesis that there is nothing mysterious in the scriptures, and that there is nothing contrary
or above reason in them. John Toland’s Christianity Not Mysterious, for example, is a case in
point. But this would be to take away one of the theologians’ most useful arguments against those
who pointed out contradictions in the scriptures, and the theologians simply would not have it. It
was seen as imperative to hold onto the statement that those contradictions in the scriptures are
divine mysteries which are above and beyond our ability to comprehend. Thomas Woolston, in
his Six Discourses on the Miracles of Our Saviour, attempted to show that the scriptures ought to
be interpreted metaphorically and poetically. Woolston dared to express his opinion that the
resurrection and other biblical notions are merely metaphorical truths and that to interpret
scripture literally leads to outright absurdities. This outraged the clergy. Woolston was
conveniently fined, imprisoned and declared insane by the clergy.
Methodic Doubt
Methodic doubt, in Cartesian philosophy, a way of searching for certainty by systematically
though tentatively doubting everything. First, all statements are classified according to type and
source of knowledge—e.g., knowledge from tradition, empirical knowledge, and mathematical
knowledge. Then, examples from each class are examined. If a way can be found to doubt the
truth of any statement, then all other statements of that type are also set aside as dubitable. The
doubt is methodic because it assures systematic completeness, but also because no claim is
made that all—or even that any—statements in a dubitable class are really false or that one must
or can distrust them in an ordinary sense. The method is to set aside as conceivably false all
statements and types of knowledge that are not indubitably true. The hope is that, by eliminating
all statements and types of knowledge the truth of which can be doubted in any way, one will find
some indubitable certainties.
In the first half of the 17th century, the French Rationalist René Descartes used methodic doubt
to reach certain knowledge of self-existence in the act of thinking, expressed in the indubitable
proposition cogito, ergo sum (“I think, therefore I am”). He found knowledge from tradition to be
dubitable because authorities disagree; empirical knowledge dubitable because of illusions,
hallucinations, and dreams; and mathematical knowledge dubitable because people make errors
in calculating. He proposed an all-powerful, deceiving demon as a way of invoking universal
doubt. Although the demon could deceive men regarding which sensations and ideas are truly of
the world, or could give them sensations and ideas none of which are of the true world, or could
even make them think that there is an external world when there is none, the demon could not
make men think that they exist when they do not.
John Locke
Empiricism
Empiricism is a theory which states that knowledge comes only or primarily from sensory
experience.[1] One of several views of epistemology, the study of human knowledge, along with
rationalism and skepticism, empiricism emphasizes the role of experience and evidence,
especially sensory experience, in the formation of ideas, over the notion of innate ideas or
traditions;[2] empiricists may argue however that traditions (or customs) arise due to relations of
previous sense experiences.[3]
Empiricism in the philosophy of science emphasizes evidence, especially as discovered in
experiments. It is a fundamental part of the scientific method that all hypotheses and theories
must be tested against observations of the natural world rather than resting solely on a priori
reasoning, intuition, or revelation.
Empiricism, often used by natural scientists, asserts that "knowledge is based on experience" and
that "knowledge is tentative and probabilistic, subject to continued revision and falsification."[4]
One of the epistemological tenets is that sensory experience creates knowledge. The scientific
method, including experiments and validated measurement tools, guides empirical research.
A Special Problem
Locke began his survey of our mental contents with the simple ideas of sensation, including those
of colors, sounds, tastes, smells, shapes, size, and solidity. With just a little thought about specific
examples of such ideas, we notice a significant difference among them: the color of the wall in
front of me seems to vary widely from time to time, depending on the light in the room and the
condition of my eyes, while its solidity persists independently of such factors. Following the lead
of Galileo and Boyle, Locke explained this difference in corpuscularian fashion, by reference to
the different ways in which the qualities of things produce our ideas of them.
The primary qualities of an object are its intrinsic features, those it really has, including the "Bulk,
Figure, Texture, and Motion" of its parts. (Essay II viii 9) Since these features are inseparable
from the thing even when it is divided into parts too small for us to perceive, the primary qualities
are independent of our perception of them. When we do perceive the primary qualities of larger
objects, Locke believed, our ideas exactly resemble the qualities as they are in things.
The secondary qualities of an object, on the other hand, are nothing in the thing itself but the
power to produce in us the ideas of "Colors, Sounds, Smells, Tastes, etc." (Essay II viii 10) In
these cases, our ideas do not resemble their causes, which are in fact nothing other than the
primary qualities of the insensible parts of things. The powers, or tertiary qualities, of an object
are just its capacities to cause perceptible changes in other things.
Thus, for example, the primary qualities of this rose include all of its quantifiable features, its mass
and momentum, its chemical composition and microscopic structure; these are the features of the
thing itself. The secondary qualities of the rose, on the other hand, include the ideas it produces
in me, its yellow color, its delicate fragrance; these are the merely the effects of the primary
qualities of its corpuscles on my eyes and nose. Like the pain I feel when I stick my finger on a
thorn, the color and smell are not features of the rose itself.
Some distinction of this sort is important for any representative realist. Many instances of
perceptual illusion can be explained by reference to the way secondary qualities depend upon
our sensory organs, but the possibility of accurate information about the primary qualities is
preserved, at least in principle. The botanical expert may be able to achieve detailed knowledge
of the nature of roses, but that knowledge is not necessary for my appreciation of their beauty.
Complex Ideas
Even if the simple ideas of sensation provide us with ample material for thinking, what we make
of them is largely up to us. In his survey of ideas of reflection, Locke listed a variety of mental
operations that we perform upon our ideas.
Notice that in each of these sections (Essay II ix-xii), Locke defined the relevant mental operations
as we experience them in ourselves, but then went on to consider carefully the extent to which
other animals seem capable of performing the same activities. This procedure has different results
from Descartes's doctrinal rejection of animal thinking: according to Locke, only abstraction (the
operation most crucial in forming the ideas of mixed modes, on which morality depends) is utterly
beyond the capacity of any animal. (Essay II xi 10)
Perception of ideas through the senses and retention of ideas in memory, Locke held, are passive
powers of the mind, beyond our direct voluntary control and heavily dependent on the material
conditions of the human body. The active powers of the mind include distinguishing, comparing,
compounding, and abstracting. It is by employing these powers, Locke supposed, that we
manufacture new, complex ideas from the simple elements provided by experience. The resulting
complex ideas are of three sorts: (Essay II xii 4-7)
Modes are complex ideas that combine simpler elements to form a new whole that is assumed to
be incapable of existing except as a part or feature of something else. The ideas of "three,"
"seventy-five," and even "infinity," for example, are all modes derived from the simple idea of
"unity." We can understand these ideas and know their mathematical functions, whether or not
there actually exist numbers of things to which they would apply in reality. "Mixed modes" similarly
combine simple components without any presumption about their conformity to existing patterns,
yielding all of our complex ideas of human actions and their value.
Substances are the complex ideas of real particular things that are supposed to exist on their own
and to account for the unity and persistence of the features they exhibit. The ideas of "my only
son," "the largest planet in the solar system," and "tulips," for example, are compounded from
simpler ideas of sensation and reflection. Each is the idea of a thing (or kind of thing) that could
really exist on its own. Since we don't understand all of the inner workings of natural objects,
Locke supposed, our complex ideas of substances usually rely heavily on their secondary
qualities and powers—the effects they are observed to have on ourselves and other things.
Relations are complex ideas of the ways in which other ideas may be connected with each other,
in fact or in thought. The ideas of "younger," "stronger," and "cause and effect," for example, all
involve some reference to the comparison of two or more other ideas.
Locke obviously could not analyze the content of every particular idea that any individual has ever
had. But his defence of the empiricist principle did require him to show in principle that any
complex idea can be derived from the simple ideas of sensation and reflection. The clarity, reality,
adequacy, and truth of all of our ideas, Locke supposed, depend upon the success with which
they fulfill their representative function. Here, we'll consider one of the most significant and difficult
examples from each category:
Immanuel Kant
Analytic / Synthetic Judgments
In the Prolegomena to any Future Metaphysic (1783) Kant presented the central themes of the
first Critique in a somewhat different manner, starting from instances in which we do appear to
have achieved knowledge and asking under what conditions each case becomes possible. So he
began by carefully drawing a pair of crucial distinctions among the judgments we do actually
make.
The first distinction separates a priori from a posteriori judgments by reference to the origin of our
knowledge of them. A priori judgments are based upon reason alone, independently of all sensory
experience, and therefore apply with strict universality. A posteriori judgments, on the other hand,
must be grounded upon experience and are consequently limited and uncertain in their application
to specific cases. Thus, this distinction also marks the difference traditionally noted in logic
between necessary and contingent truths.
But Kant also made a less familiar distinction between analytic and synthetic judgments,
according to the information conveyed as their content. Analytic judgments are those whose
predicates are wholly contained in their subjects; since they add nothing to our concept of the
subject, such judgments are purely explicative and can be deduced from the principle of non-
contradiction. Synthetic judgments, on the other hand, are those whose predicates are wholly
distinct from their subjects, to which they must be shown to relate because of some real
connection external to the concepts themselves. Hence, synthetic judgments are genuinely
informative but require justification by reference to some outside principle.
Kant supposed that previous philosophers had failed to differentiate properly between these two
distinctions. Both Leibniz and Hume had made just one distinction, between matters of fact based
on sensory experience and the uninformative truths of pure reason. In fact, Kant held, the two
distinctions are not entirely coextensive; we need at least to consider all four of their logically
possible combinations:
Analytic a posteriori judgments cannot arise, since there is never any need to appeal to
experience in support of a purely explicative assertion.
Synthetic a posteriori judgments are the relatively uncontroversial matters of fact we come to
know by means of our sensory experience (though Wolff had tried to derive even these from the
principle of contradiction).
Analytic a priori judgments, everyone agrees, include all merely logical truths and
straightforward matters of definition; they are necessarily true.
Synthetic a priori judgments are the crucial case, since only they could provide new information
that is necessarily true. But neither Leibniz nor Hume considered the possibility of any such case.
Unlike his predecessors, Kant maintained that synthetic a priori judgments not only are possible
but actually provide the basis for significant portions of human knowledge. In fact, he supposed
(pace Hume) that arithmetic and geometry comprise such judgments and that natural science
depends on them for its power to explain and predict events. What is more, metaphysics—if it
turns out to be possible at all—must rest upon synthetic a priori judgments, since anything else
would be either uninformative or unjustifiable. But how are synthetic a priori judgments possible
at all? This is the central question Kant sought to answer.
A priori / a posteriori
The terms “a priori” and “a posteriori” are used primarily to denote the foundations upon which a
proposition is known. A given proposition is knowable a priori if it can be known independent of
any experience other than the experience of learning the language in which the proposition is
expressed, whereas a proposition that is knowable a posteriori is known on the basis of
experience. For example, the proposition that all bachelors are unmarried is a priori, and the
proposition that it is raining outside now is a posteriori.
The distinction between the two terms is epistemological and immediately relates to the
justification for why a given item of knowledge is held. For instance, a person who knows (a priori)
that “All bachelors are unmarried” need not have experienced the unmarried status of all—or
indeed any—bachelors to justify this proposition. By contrast, if I know that “It is raining outside,”
knowledge of this proposition must be justified by appealing to someone’s experience of the
weather.
The a priori /a posteriori distinction, as is shown below, should not be confused with the similar
dichotomy of the necessary and the contingent or the dichotomy of the analytic and the synthetic.
Nonetheless, the a priori /a posteriori distinction is itself not without controversy. The major
sticking-points historically have been how to define the concept of the “experience” on which the
distinction is grounded, and whether or in what sense knowledge can indeed exist independently
of all experience. The latter issue raises important questions regarding the positive, that is, actual,
basis of a priori knowledge — questions which a wide range of philosophers have attempted to
answer. Kant, for instance, advocated a “transcendental” form of justification involving “rational
insight” that is connected to, but does not immediately arise from, empirical experience.
This article provides an initial characterization of the terms “a priori” and “a posteriori,” before
illuminating the differences between the distinction and those with which it has commonly been
confused. It will then review the main controversies that surround the topic and explore opposing
accounts of a positive basis of a priori knowledge that seek to avoid an account exclusively reliant
on pure thought for justification.
CONTEMPORARY PERIOD
Phenomenology
Phenomenology is the study of structures of consciousness as experienced from the first-person
point of view. The central structure of an experience is its intentionality, its being directed toward
something, as it is an experience of or about some object. An experience is directed toward an
object by virtue of its content or meaning (which represents the object) together with appropriate
enabling conditions.
Phenomenology as a discipline is distinct from but related to other key disciplines in philosophy,
such as ontology, epistemology, logic, and ethics. Phenomenology has been practiced in various
guises for centuries, but it came into its own in the early 20th century in the works of Husserl,
Heidegger, Sartre, Merleau-Ponty and others. Phenomenological issues of intentionality,
consciousness, qualia, and first-person perspective have been prominent in recent philosophy of
mind.
Edmund Husserl
Phenomenological Epoche/Bracketing
Epoché (ἐποχή, epokhē "suspension"[1]) is an ancient Greek term which, in its philosophical
usage, describes the theoretical moment where all judgments about the existence of the external
world, and consequently all action in the world, is suspended. One's own consciousness is subject
to immanent critique so that when such belief is recovered, it will have a firmer grounding in
consciousness. This concept was developed by the Greek skeptics and plays an implicit role in
skeptical thought, as in René Descartes' epistemic principle of methodic doubt. The term was
popularized in philosophy by Edmund Husserl. Husserl elaborates the notion of
'phenomenological epoché' or 'bracketing' in Ideas I. Through the systematic procedure of
'phenomenological reduction', one is thought to be able to suspend judgment regarding the
general or naive philosophical belief in the existence of the external world, and thus examine
phenomena as they are originally given to consciousness.[2]
Intentionality
The most important influence that Brentano had over Husserl was the concept of intentional
consciousness. During the later 1800s and early 1900s, the concepts of positivism and
reductionism were just beginning to become in vogue in philosophical discourse; the former
concept is an epistemic turn which rejects metaphysical explanation in favor of scientific analyses,
the latter reduces any mental processes to the completely neurological. The concept of
intentionality rejects both of these methods without falling back on purely metaphysical
speculation. Intentionality states that consciousness must always be about something. Take as a
linguistic example, "I see a green tree," or "She hears the loud bells".
Martin Heidegger
Daisen
The concept of Dasein
For Heidegger, the human subject had to be reconceived in an altogether new way, as “being-in-
the-world.” Because this notion represented the very opposite of the Cartesian “thing that thinks,”
the idea of consciousness as representing the mind’s internal awareness of its own states had to
be dropped. With it went the assumption that specific mental states were needed to mediate the
relation of the mind to everything outside it. The human subject was not a mind that was capable
only of representing the world to itself and whose linkage with its body was merely a contingent
one. According to Heidegger, human being should instead be conceived as Dasein, a common
German word usually translated in English as “existence” but which also literally means “being
there.” By using it as a replacement for “consciousness” and “mind,” Heidegger intended to
suggest that a human being is in the world in the mode of “uncovering” and is thus disclosing
other entities as well as itself. Dasein is, in other words, the “there”—or the locus—of being and
thus the metaphorical place where entities “show themselves” as what they are. Instead of being
sealed off within a specially designed compartment within a human being, the functions that have
been misdescribed as “mental” now become the defining characteristics of human existence.
EXISTENTIALIST
Jean Paul Sartre
"Man is condemned to be free"; this statement by Sartre both in his major philosophical work,
"Being and Nothingness" (BN) and his famous talk, "Existentialism is a Humanism" has profound
implications for all human beings. It involves such aspects of human existence as: free will and
determinism; moral values; the notion of God; and relationships with others. Before discussing
freedom specifically I will look at two of Sartre's basic premises; "existence precedes essence",
and his division of the world into two distinct categories, 'being-in-itself' and `being-for-itself'. I
believe an understanding of these two concepts is necessary to fully appreciate the profundity of,
"man is condemned to be free".
Fundamental to Sartre's whole philosophy is his insistence that "existence precedes essence"
in the human being. He uses the analogy of an artisan creating a utilitarian object such as a paper-
knife to show that non conscious objects are made (or exist, such as a rock) with an inbuilt
essence. This essence or nature determines their life and consequently they are not free to act
otherwise. Similarly if a human is created by God, (a supernal artisan) then the human's essence
has been determined (Kaufmann 1975, p.348).