Honors Introduction to Philosophy Essay

Do you agree with Descartes that the self is the only certainty? How does he define who he is, and how does he attempt to overcome solipsism in the third meditation?

Descartes makes a very compelling argument for the self being the only true certainty. It is true that the senses are not perfect in their ability to perceive what is in front of us, and that what we see, hear, smell, feel, or otherwise perceive can be potentially be inaccurate. Likewise, it would be logical, though somewhat extreme, to conclude that, since our senses are unreliable, we should disregard anything surmised from our senses and instead regard them as uncertain. Without these perceptions, we are left with nothing but our capacity to think. Even if this ability to think is deeply flawed, it is still something certain we have, and the self arises from this certainty.
Descartes casts away everything he can perceive through his senses (in other words, everything he can perceive, and everything that is built upon that) for the purpose of arriving at certainties. Though it may seem drastic to hold everything we perceive as untrue, as if everything we see, feel, hear, know, etc. could be objectively wrong, it is certainly a logical conclusion; how can we trust our senses for even a second, when they can so easily fail at giving us an objective picture of our surroundings? If we are to deem false all that we recognize through our senses, however, then this would leave us with very little that we can hold on to as objectively true.
We are left with nothing but doubt if we are to disregard the foundations of everything we know and believe. However, this doubt (or more specifically, our ability to doubt) is something concrete. The very fact that we doubt, that we can imagine, sense, be deceived, or simply that we can think, is a certainty. Our thoughts, idea, and emotions could very well be, as Descarte himself purports in his Meditations, subject to the whims and fancies of an malicious, omnipotent being; that we are having thoughts, that we have the ability to doubt or fall to the wills of this entity, is completely certain. We have the capacity to think, and we cannot separate ourselves from this capacity. Even in a void, removed from our senses and perceptions, we would have this ability to think, and this gives us our only real objective idea of existence. That we think is evidence enough that we are entities, that we have a “self”, so to speak.
But what is the self, according to Descartes? He attempts to answer the question of who, at the very least, he is from an objective standpoint. As he has, at this point, labelled everything that leaves room for doubt as outright false, he has only his ability to think. Therefore, he refers to himself simply as a “thing that thinks”. That he could be in this place or there, feeling this sensation or that, holding this ideal or another, is subjective and at the mercy of the senses, and thus inconsequential in defining one’s self in objective terms. That one can think these things, however, is an objective truth. Descartes describes himself as a “thing that thinks” because to give himself any sort of subjective description could be untrue, so he gives himself the only objective description he has. This description of himself also gives a very sufficient explanation of what the self is in basic terms. Taking away all subjectivity, the self can be defined simply as an entity that thinks.
This still leaves Descartes trapped within his own mind in his third meditation, wary of the physical realm and its falsehoods. He rationalizes that all of our ideas must have had some real-world source. Even our thoughts of the most fantastic and absurd creatures and ideas must have been derived from something we have perceived. Descartes ponders the idea of perfection; how can such a flawed, gullible being such as himself have an idea of perfection? Following his logic, he states that his concept of perfection must have come from some source, as it could not have come from within, being as flawed as he is. He surmises that perfection must have come from God, a perfect being, and that as such he is able to perceive God distinctly, since he has an “infinite objective reality” (as in, God exists objectively and, since he does not have the limitations that beings of the material world have, also exists infinitely). Being that Descartes can perceive God, he can also perceive God as what he believes God must be; as a benevolent being that would not deceive him, and as such he is able to escape his solipsism and be free of a world out to misguide him.

Explain Berkeley’s view that being means being perceived. Provide 3 arguments to support the view that there is a reality outside the mind.

	One of the cruxes of Berkeley’s philosophy is that “esse est percipi”, or that to be is to be perceived. That is, the existence of everything around us is entirely dependent on them being perceived. An object’s existence starts and ends at it being perceived. If something exists, it is because either someone perceives it, or God perceives. As God is omnipotent, he can perceive all, so one can be assured that an object shall not disappear when they or any other human ceases to perceive it.
	Berkeley defines the world as being made up of ideas, and the spirits that perceive these ideas. There is no “external world”; the only world we have is the one that we perceive, and there is no material counterpart that makes up reality. That isn’t to say there isn’t a reality. What we perceive is reality, and there is no reality beyond that. Nothing (other than the self) can exist if it is not being perceived by a spirit.
	However, much of Berkeley’s philosophy hinges on the assumption that there is God, who is omnipotent and is able to perceive all. If, for instance, I were to take my hands away from and stop looking at my computer in front of me, using Berkeley’s reasoning I could safely assume that my computer would still be there because God will be able to “fill in the blanks” of my perception, so to speak. However, if one were to instead assume that there is no God or any other omnipotent being capable of perceiving all, what would happen to our gaps of perception? One could assume that, when an object ceases being perceived by any spirit, it in turn ceases to exist, and when that object is again being perceived it comes back into existence, hopefully as it was prior to it ceasing to exist.
This would leave reality in chaos, however, if we could not rely on the consistency of the perceptions around us. If I were to open my eyes to where was once my computer, for all I know it could be an entirely different object, or it could even continue to cease to exist. How can we trust that something will remain the same, or even come back into existence, if it ceases to exist? How would I know that, when I open my eyes, my computer will still be here? What would happen to an object if it were to cease to exist, and it were meant to somehow come back into existence after a period? Without God providing this infallible guarantee of existence, reality would be completely chaotic if it worked under Berkeley’s model, assuming there was no material world existing outside of our perceptions.
It is obviously true that one can possibly perceive something differently than someone else could, in certain circumstances. We might see our lot in life as being quite dire while our closest friends say we have much to be optimistic and joyful about, or one could simply see a banana in front of them as being green-tinted yellow rather than someone else who sees it as yellow-tinted green. If our perceptions are what make up the reality in front of us, then is reality also up for interpretation? This would make reality open to much questioning and skepticism, something that would defeat the purpose of much of Berkeley’s philosophy. If there was an external world existing outside of our perceptions, then we could account for this subjectivity.
	Another problem also arises when one considers how much control, if any, one could have on their own perceptions if there was no external world it reflected. At this moment of writing, I am on my laptop in LSU’s library, working on an essay for my Introduction to Philosophy class and fighting off fatigue from a long night of school work. I would much prefer to be in, say, New York City, or London, or any other location I would find pleasant, probably doing some sort of leisurely activity like enjoying a concert or exploring the exotic nooks and crannies of my location, with any luxury or pleasure within my hand’s grasp.
Why is it that I am perceiving the former rather than the latter? An obvious answer would be that I am a college student at LSU with an essay due alarmingly soon, rather than someone with the time and resources to spend on my fantasies whenever I please, but in Berkeley’s view, why would one reality be more legitimate than the other? Why would I choose to perceive this reality instead of a more enjoyable one? Our perceptions are certainly subjective. If they are indivisibly tied to reality, why can I not alter my reality at will, unassisted? If there were some sort of external world that our perceptions reflected, however, it would explain why I cannot simply have every wish of my heart’s desire by believing I perceive it.

Do impressions always precede ideas? Why can’t Hume find the self?

	Hume himself gives examples of ideas that precede impressions in his A Treatise of Human Nature. He poses this hypothetical situation: a person is shown a range of shades of blue, in order of their continual gradation. In between two certain shades is one missing blue; a blue that, consistent with the order of the blue gradients, would logically fit between those two certain shades. Hume purports that there would certainly be people who would be able to place that missing blue, even if they had never seen it before in their lives, and I agree with this. If there is one exception to a rule, it would stand to reason there are probably others. However, though impressions don’t always precede ideas, they are certainly a crucial factor in most cases.
	It wouldn’t be a stretch of the imagination to state that most of what makes up our ideals, thoughts, imagination, and values are based on our prior experiences, which in turn is based on our impressions (ie., our perceptions, emotions, senses, etc). Even if one was a scientific genius, or an innovative composer, or an acclaimed writer, one needs experiences to base themselves on; all of these individuals, no matter how talented, have started from raw impressions. Similarly, we are nothing without our impressions. Even in Hume’s Missing Shade of Blue counterargument, a person would have had to have seen shades of blue before or experience concepts such as color and gradation if they were to recognize that missing shade.
Even our creative, complex ideas usually are made up of composites of simpler ideas or impressions we have experienced. The fantastic, peculiar mythological creatures of our cultures are an example. This is obvious enough in creatures like the satyr (horse-or-goat/human hybrids) or the leviathan (a metaphor of the Abrahamic God’s power, using a whale), but even something as odd as the nurikabe of Japanese folklore, a demon that confuses and misguides travelers by forming into an impassable and never-ending wall in front of their paths has its origin in the impressions of a culture (namely, the fear of the night and of getting hopelessly lost). Even our cultures and philosophies are made up of the impressions of the people who make them.
As to Hume’s thoughts regarding the self, he does not believe one can sufficiently give an idea of a “self”. We have no idea of the self, because we cannot derive an idea of the self from any impression. Looking within, one cannot receive any sort of original impression, simply because all we are made up of are ideas, ie. reflections of impressions. How could one give a pure impression to one’s self if they are made up of nothing but reflections of previous impressions?
Hume does not believe there is any sort of consistent impression of the self, given that what your average person’s normal definition of themselves is ever-changing and inconsistent. He rebukes the idea of identity, since we ascribe identity to objects that only share resemblance, origin, or other narrowly-defined factors, constantly overlooking small but distinct differences. Personal identity is similar, given that, regardless of our similarities as a species, each person is very much unique in personality, character, ideals, and so forth. The definition of what the “self” is is therefore very unclear. It would be nearly impossible to adequately and universally define what a “self” is due to the variation and inconsistencies throughout our species, since us as a species would never agree to an objective, encompassing definition of what our “selves” are.