Interest in David Hume has increased greatly over the past fifty years.  Throughout the 19th century, Hume’s philosophy was considered skeptical, negative, and irreligious; the dead-end of empiricism; a stepping stone to Kant.  His psychological insights, which initially generated considerable attention, came to be considered simply naive.

This has changed.  Over the past fifty years, interest in Hume’s positive philosophy has steadily grown, to the point that a survey of philosophy professors in 2009 found Hume to be their favorite non-living philosopher.  Across a broad range of topics, from human nature to history, economics, political science, philosophy of science, and religion, Hume has found newly interested readers.  His work has been of particular interest in the fields of cognitive science and philosophy of mind; Jerry Fodor of Rutgers has called Hume’s Treatise of Human Nature the foundational document of cognitive science.

An impressive recent addition to the Hume literature is the Oxford Handbook of Hume, edited by Paul Russell. The term “handbook” belies its heft; at over 800 pages, and weighing over 3 pounds, it is a battleship of current scholarly thinking on Hume, with thirty-eight chapters by separate authors, each a recognized authority on their topic.  The objective of the Oxford Handbooks is to provide authoritative, up-to-date surveys on a particular topic, with focus on the progress and direction of current debates within the literature, and guidelines or suggestions for future research.  Its target audience is scholars and graduate students, rather than the beginning student; the hefty price tag of the Handbook, and the level of prior knowledge it assumes, are consistent with this.  As Russell notes in the introduction, scholars differ in their readings of Hume on many issues; accordingly, this Handbook aims to provide both an accurate account of Hume’s work, and a record of contemporary thinking about Hume (xxi).  That there remain varying interpretations is a sign that Hume scholarship remains vigorous; that Hume continues to inspire new thoughts and approaches; that his ideas are subtle; and that his texts can be construed in different ways.  Given the various positions on Hume’s thinking, a work such as the Handbook may be especially useful, if it can clarify and articulate, and ideally help unify, positions across a wide series of topics. 

The book begins with a succinct overview of Hume’s life by James Harris, author of the recently published intellectual biography of Hume.  The book’s remaining thirty-seven chapters are grouped into seven broad subject areas: “central themes” in Hume’s thought; metaphysics and epistemology; passion, morality, and politics; aesthetics, history, and economics; religion; Hume’s relationship to the Enlightenment; and “after Hume”.  Each chapter is authored by a leading scholar on that topic.  In “central themes”, for example, Barry Stroud outlines the tension between Hume’s naturalism and his scepticism; Don Garrett analyzes the role of reason; the late Annette Baier addresses the role of sentiment; John Wright reviews arguments for Hume’s ‘skeptical realism’ (a much debated issue); Peter Millican outlines Hume’s key arguments, with focus on the copy principle and causation; and volume editor Paul Russell lays out the argument that Hume’s irreligion is the key to his philosophy.  All are authors closely associated with their topics.

I will focus on just two chapters, which meet the twin objectives of the series well: to set out the current position on the topic, and to review the alternative positions in the literature.

Helen Beebee, in her chapter on “Hume and the Problem of Causation” (228 ff.), takes up the problem for which Hume is perhaps best known, and over which there has been enormous disagreement.  To many (though not all) of Hume’s contemporary and subsequent critics, his doubts about the necessity of causal sequences seemed ridiculous, a clever paradox posed by the incurable, but tiresome, sceptic.  His doubts moreover seemed, to many, contradicted by the rest of his writings, where he appears to write as a causal determinist.  But Hume’s doubts were given new respect in the 20th century; Einstein credited Hume with helping to free his own mind from a priori limitations in thinking about time, while the indeterminacy of quantum mechanics also brought Hume’s doubts into focus.

As Beebee carefully presents it, the traditional (“meaning-empiricist”) view of Hume’s position has been that an objective, mind-independent, “necessary connection” between causes and effects is unintelligible.   If we speak of “powers”, we speak of nothing, or simply a short-hand expression of what we have seen to occur when, for example, one billiard ball hits another.  We can describe that sequence based on our experience, but only in so far as we can observe the contiguity, priority, and constant conjunction of the regularities of the sequence.  The internal sense that the event must happen is explained by Hume as a psychological phenomenon, occasioned by the expectation we feel because we have seen the sequence happen on so many prior occasions.  Beebee describes also a variation of this view (“projectivist”), according to which Hume is understood to assert, further, that the mind extends, or spreads, its internal sense of necessity onto the objects themselves, ‘gilding’ external events with a belief in their necessary connection (235).

As Hume readers know, an alternative has been advanced over the past thirty years (which indeed extends back to Hume’s contemporaries) – the so-called “New Hume” – which ascribes to Hume the view, however tentative, that there do exist real powers and forces through which nature operates, although the character of such powers is wholly unknown to us (241).  On this view, our understanding of the nature of these powers is always empty, yet we have grounds to suppose their existence.  Beebee passes finally to a discussion of Hume’s ‘two definitions of cause’, another topic familiar to Hume scholars.  These definitions differ between them; what is the meaning of such differences?  A number of the multiple interpretations are well reviewed by Beebee (243-44).

This may seem simply a lengthy recital of differing views; but in this reviewer’s opinion, just this approach is most useful in setting out the parameters of the current debates, which can quickly become confusing.  I was struck also with Beebee’s ability to reference her own work in the context of the literature, while resisting the temptation to argue for the correctness of her views (or the incorrectness of alternatives).  Her survey of the field is both clear, and commendably even-handed.

David Owen’s “Reason, Belief, and the Passions” (333 ff.) also seems to meet very well the dual objective of describing a complex area, while presenting clearly the conflicting literature about it.  What is called the Humean theory of motivation holds that a belief and a desire are required, jointly, as a motivation to action; belief alone, on this view, is insufficient to cause action.  Owen is persuasive, however, that whatever the merits of the theory may be in cognitive science, the theory is not Hume’s (339).

Owen’s starting point is Hume’s observation that “Nature has implanted in the human mind a perception of good or evil, or in other words, of pain and pleasure, as the chief spring and moving principle of all its actions” (333-34), a point much more important to Hume’s overall account of motivation than his views on reason and the passions (334).  This “spring and moving principle” provides the explanatory link between the prospect of pleasure and action (or, pain avoidance and action), rather than the presence of any particular desire (334).  On this view (although, as Owen notes, it remains a minority interpretation), beliefs themselves may be motivating, since our propensity to pleasure, and away from pain, is deeply rooted in our beliefs themselves.   And once we allow beliefs to be causally active, we understand that they may cause passions, volitions and even direct actions (346).  The sensation of pain may cause directly an involuntary reflex action of withdrawing the hand (sensation causing action); a less painful sensation may cause an intentional action of withdrawing one’s hand (sensation causing volition, causing action); or a still less painful sensation may cause a desire for the pain to stop, which gives rise to a volition, a deliberation through reasoning, and in turn an action (346).  Distinct ideas of pain – that is, beliefs – may just as easily trigger similar reactions.  Thus on this view, Hume did not assert that beliefs alone cannot motivate action.

What Hume did assert is that reason alone cannot motivate action, and part of Owen’s task is to explain how past interpreters have managed to derive the Humean theory of motivation from this.   He proposes various sound suggestions as to how this may have arisen, and so usefully maps out a possible path to reconciliation.  Perhaps the conflict is semantic; as Owen notes, if what is meant by “desire” in the Humean theory of motivation can include the basic instincts of propensity to pleasure, and aversion to pain, the issue may disappear (342).

What Beebee’s and Owen’s essays make clear is the complexity of the issues Hume has raised, and the care with which we need to read Hume to determine with accuracy what he did, and did not, say.  By placing alternative, contrasting positions in relief, we are in some position to judge where, perhaps, one view or another has varied from Hume’s own writings; although, in other cases, it must be admitted that Hume’s texts appear to permit alternate interpretations.  As with many of the other essays in this rich volume, their work includes careful references and/or footnotes along the way to guide a reader to further sources.

By focusing on these two essays, I have had to skip over many others, including Kenneth Winkler’s thorough analysis of Hume’s skeptical logic of induction; Jacqueline Taylor, on Hume’s complex views of pride and the indirect passions; Paul Guyer’s discussion of Hume, Kant and the standard of taste; and Martin Bell, on Hume and proofs for the existence of God, to name just a few.  Psychologists will be particularly interested in the final chapter, “Hume and Cognitive Psychology”, by Jesse Prinz.  If there is a criticism of the essays in this very worthwhile book, it is that not all authors are as complete as they could be in reviewing the literature of alternative views, though many meet that goal well.

In conclusion, while not for beginning students of Hume, the Oxford Handbook will provide a fine reference source both for Hume’s thought, and for current thinking about Hume’s thought.  As Hume literature has grown, a volume such as this may be particularly useful, if it can serve as a touchstone for further consolidation of thinking about Hume, although, given the complexity of the issues addressed, resolution is unlikely to happen soon.  As Jesse Prinz writes in his essay, “[w]ithin philosophy our continued interest in historical figures often reflects the conviction that they remain relevant to current philosophical debates.  There is no one for whom this claim is more true than David Hume” (777).  That observation is a recurring theme of this timely and useful book.

 

© 2016 Gregory Todd

 

Gregory Todd is an attorney in New York City.  He is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in History with the University of Edinburgh, focusing on Scottish intellectual history of the 18th century.