G. J. Mattey’s Notes on Hume’s Treatise, Book 2, Part 3, Section 3

Notes on Hume’s Treatise

by G. J. Mattey

Book 2
Of the PASSIONS
PART 3
Of the will and direct passions.

Sect. 3. Of the influencing motives of the will.

The author has claimed in the preceding two sections that individual human wills are determined to action by motive, circumstance and disposition. In the present section, he explains the manner in which motives influence the will.

The notion that in the human mind there is a conflict between passion and reason, and that reason deserves to be the victor, can be traced to the ancient Greek philosophers, at least as far back as Plato’s Republic, Book IV. The Stoics most prominently advocated the primacy of reason over the passions. Numerous modern writers took up the same theme. Locke, in particular, claimed that what generally determines the will to action is the uneasiness we feel in our present circumstances. However, this determination may be suspended when we realize by exercise of our reason that removing the uneasiness by acting in a given way may lead to even greater uneasiness. (See An Essay concerning Human Understanding Book II, Chapter 21, “Of Power,” especially Sections 48-56.)

1. It is a commonplace, both in philosophy and in common life, that there is a struggle between people’s reason and their passions, and that virtue is attained when and only when reason emerges victorious. Any motive or principle that is in opposition to reason must either be subdued or brought into conformity with reason. Both ancient and modern philosophers extol the superiority of reason, both in their scholarly work and their admonitions to the public. “The eternity, invariableness, and divine origin of [reason] have been display’d to the best advantage: The blindness, unconstancy, and deceitfulness of [passion] have been as strongly insisted on.” In spite of this, the author will undertake to show that this philosophy is fallacious, by proving two things:

2. The first thesis is to be demonstrated in this and the next paragraph. The author first appeals to his result from Book I, Part III, Section 1, that the only two acts of the understanding are demonstrating the relations of ideas or making probable inferences concerning objects that are only given in experience. It is evident that demonstration by itself is not the cause of any action, because it is confined to the realm of ideas and does not enter the practical arena. Thus, demonstration and the will to act “seem, on that account, to be totally remov’d from each other.” It is granted that mathematics is of practical use, but mathematical demonstrations themselves are distinct from practice. We use mathematics in mechanics, which allows us to regulate the motion of bodies. But this regulation itself takes place “to some design’d end or purpose.” Mathematics merely informs as to how to achieve ends that have already been established. An example is that of a merchant who wishes to calculate the sum of what is owed to him by a customer, in order determine what would be the equivalent effect of the payment of all the individual debts. “Abstract or demonstrative reasoning, therefore, never influences any of our actions, but only as it directs our judgments concerning causes and effects.”

3. The second kind of act of the understanding is making probable inferences about objects on the basis of experience. The role of reason in these cases is to discover connections among the objects. We look for these connections only when they make a difference to us. And what makes a difference to us is “the prospect of pain or pleasure from any object.” Such a prospect gives rise to feelings or “emotions” of aversion or desire, respectively. We try to avoid what we think will bring us pain and to embrace what we think will bring us pleasure. An obvious effect of these emotions is that we do not stop with the consideration of the object itself, but rather “cast our view on every side“ and extend the emotion to other objects related to it by cause and effect. This is what is discovered by reasoning, and it is followed by impulses to act upon the information reason reveals about the related objects. “But ’tis evident in this case, that the impulse arises not from reason, but is only directed by it.” If there is no prospect of pain or pleasure in other objects, there is no reason to seek causally related objects, and any such connection that is found has no influence on us. From this the author concludes that, “’Tis plain, that as reason is nothing but discovery of this connexion, it cannot be by its means that the objects are able to affect us.”

4. The author claims to have established in the preceding paragraph that, “reason alone can never produce any action, or give rise to volition.” [All that reason does by itself is to discover relations of ideas and causal connections of interest to us.] From this he concludes that reason alone cannot prevent any action or dispute the preference found in the emotions of aversion or desire. This conclusion is deemed “necessary” because the only way reason could prevent an action toward which there is already an “impulse” is to produce a contrary impulse that would cancel it out. But it has been shown that reason produces no impulses at all, so “’tis impossible it can withstand any principle, which has such an efficacy, or even keep the mind in suspence a moment.” If there is a principle that opposes our inclinations, then, it is not reason. To say that it is reason is to use the term in an improper sense. So, talk of the “combat of passion and reason” is not strict and philosophical. In fact, “Reason is, and ought only to be the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.” [The meaning of “ought only to be” in this context is puzzling. Perhaps the author intends it to signify that ought only to be considered as being a slave of the passions, since its only function is inference.] The author grants that this view “may appear somewhat extraordinary,” so he will set out in what follows to try to confirm it.

5. A feature of a passion is that it is what the author calls either an “original existence” or an original “modification of existence.” [The latter description would capture the notion that it is the self which has the passion. But the author has argued in Book I, Part IV, Section 6 that the self is nothing more than a connected group of perceptions, which includes passions as well as sensations. Thus, if the passion is a modification of the self, it could be so only in the sense that it serves as one of the self’s constituent members.] A further feature of a passion is that it lacks a “representative quality, which renders it a copy of any other existence or modification.” [Presumably, only ideas, which are derivative existences or modifications, would have this kind of representative quality. As copies of impressions, simple ideas represent impressions exactly.] The passion of anger refers to objects no more than do the feeling of thirst or sickness, or the physical quality of being taller than five feet. On the other hand, if something is said to be opposed by reason (or truth), it must be because ideas disagree with the objects which they represent, in the sense of being copies. [Strictly, ideas are copies of impressions, not of objects. If they represent objects, it is only by their connection with impressions of sense, which then would have to be taken as representing objects. But impressions of sense are original existences as much as are passions (Part I, Section 1), so they are not copies either, by the author’s reasoning above. In that case, an idea would be a copy of an impression that represents the impression directly, while the impression somehow represents the object without being a copy of it. If that is right, ideas can be considered copies of objects only by being copies of representations that are not themselves copies. This seems unsatisfactory, which suggests that impressions should be considered copies of objects, despite their being original existences.]

6. Given the claim that the passions cannot be contrary to reason (or unreasonable) in the sense that they lack the representative feature of judgment, it immediately comes to mind that there may be another sense in which we might say (though not properly speaking) that passions may be unreasonable. This sense is that a passion is unreasonably accompanied by a judgment or opinion. This “obvious and natural” principle can apply in one of two ways. The first is when a passion exists based on the opinion that some object exists, while it does not. Thus one might fear a ghost that does not exist. The second is that when a passion gives rise to an action, we make a faulty causal judgment regarding which action will serve the ends generated by the passion. These are the only two senses in which a passion may be called unreasonable, or conversely, can be called reasonable if the opinion or judgment is correct. The author illustrates his case with three examples and an analogy. The first example is the apparently unreasonable preference for the destruction of the world over not scratching my finger. [This passion does not depend on belief in a non-existent object or the means to any end.] The second example is that of preferring my total ruin if it would alleviate the minor discomfort of a stranger. [Once again, there is no error in opinion or judgment here.] The third example compares two possible states of the self, where one prefers what he acknowledges is a lesser good for himself to what he recognizes as a greater good. None of the three passions is contrary to reason in the strict sense, even though in the first case “a trivial good“ may produce a desire that outweighs a desire arising from “the greatest and most valuable enjoyment.” The analogy is that in the proper circumstances, a small body [say, through leverage] can lift a body a thousand times heavier. [Perhaps the comparison here is that the laws of nature do not prevent this from happening.]

7. Given that these two are the only senses in which a passion may be called unreasonable, it follows evidently that it impossible “that reason and passion can ever oppose each other, or dispute for the government of the will and actions.” When the falseness of an opinion or judgment is discovered, the passion “will yield to reason,” but this is not because reason opposes it. One example from each type of “unreasonableness” is given. I may desire to taste a fruit because I believe that I will like it, but if you persuade me otherwise, my desire for it will vanish. I may wish to perform an action because I believe that it will satisfy my desire for something good, once I discover that my action would be ineffective, I no longer wish to perform it. The actions become indifferent to me because my willing them is based on the supposition that they will get me what I want.

8. The author now offers a diagnosis of the error in thinking that passions can be unreasonable in the strict sense. The explanation is that the passions and reason are easily confused because it is hard to perceive immediately the difference between the two. We generally reason unemotionally and without any associated pleasure or uneasiness. (Exceptions may be “in the sublime disquisitions of philosophy, or in the frivolous subtilities of the schools.”) Every other action of the mind which resembles reason in this calmness is thought to be an instance of reasoning as well, “by all those who judge of things from the first view and appearance.” But there are also real passions that are equally unproductive of much emotion. These passions are better known from the effects they produce than by direct perception of them. One such kind of passion is that which we possess instinctively, “such as benevolence and resentment, the love of life, and kindness to children.” The second kind is ”the general appetite to good and aversion to evil, considered merely as such.” When these passions are calm, they are taken to have the same source as our rational judgments of truth and falsehood. “Their nature and principles have been suppos’d the same, because their sensations are not evidently different.”

9. The calm passions just noted are said by the author to determine the will often. He adds that “there are certain violent emotions of the same kind, which have likewise a great influence on that faculty.” Consider the passion of resentment toward someone, which may be calm at one time. It may become violent when the other injures me, and it can lead to a desire for his ill-fate and punishment, which is independent of any pleasure or pain I might have. The aversion to evil can be calm, but when I am in grave danger, “my fears, apprehensions, and aversions rise to a great height, and produce a sensible emotion.”

10. The author concludes by accusing metaphysicans of making the same mistake: of attributing all direction of the will either to the calm or the violent passions. It is not the case that the calm preference for the greatest good governs the will in every case. “Men often act knowingly against their interest.” And it is not the case that violent passions always determine our willing. “Men often counter-act a violent passion in prosecution of their interests and designs.” Thus, not all acts of will are due to the kind of present uneasiness induced by a violent passion. So, both the calm and violent passions “operate on the will.” If the two conflict, the explanation of the prevalence of one over the other must be traced to “the general character or present disposition of the person,” i.e., the calm or violent passion. So-called “strength of mind” is [not the dominance of reason over the passions, but] the dominance of the calm passions over the violent. (But it most be noted that even the strongest minds sometimes succumb to strong emotions.) It is difficult to understand the actions or resolutions of other people in which there is some conflict between motives and passions because of the variability in the balance between their dispositions to calm or violent passions.

Section V of Of the Passions repeats the material of the present section of the Treatise. Paragraph 1 of the former summarizes the argument of paragraphs 2 and 3 of the latter. The second paragraph re-states the thesis of the present paragraph 8, though with new examples. “A man, we say, is diligent in his profession from reason; that is, from a calm desire of riches and a fortune. A man adheres to justice from reason; that is, from a calm regard to public good, or to a character with himself and others.” Paragraph 3 contains substantially the same thesis as the present paragraph 9, except that for ‘violent emotion,’ Hume substitutes ‘turbulent and sensible emotion.’ It is made explicit that what are called “reasons” (actually calm passions) can become objects of violent passions “when they are brought near to us, and acquire some other advantages, either of external situation, or congruity to our internal temper.” The concluding paragraph of Section V of the Dissertation recapitulates the final paragraph in the present Section.