Episode 36 - David Hume & Isaiah Berlin

In this extended episode, I talk about the ideas and insights of two thinkers, David Hume who lived in the eighteenth century, and Isaiah Berlin, who died in 1997. They both offer us interesting thoughts about human nature, what we mean by ‘the self’ and how to enshrine multiple personal freedoms and rights within a vibrant society. Both writers argue for tolerance and benign scepticism. I also suggest some connections between their ideas and those of Gotama Buddha.

Transcript

David Hume is often regarded as the most distinguished philosopher to have written in English – though he was born in Edinburgh and was a key figure of the ‘Scottish enlightenment’ with James Boswell (the biographer) and Adam Smith (the economist). It is surprising how much of his thought, which was revolutionary at the time, has an affinity with Buddhist insights and ideas. I will highlight a few key points of Hume’s philosophy and draw out some of the connections with Buddhist ideas and practices.

Hume was born in 1711 – only four years after the act of union that brought Scotland and England together into the United Kingdom. His father, Joseph, died in 1713 and from then on Hume was brought up by his mother, Katherine, who was a conscientious Calvinist, devoted to her three children. After studies in law and a brief period in business, at the age of twenty-three Hume moved to rural France where he could live cheaply and devote himself to philosophy. By 1737 he was back in London bringing together the ideas he had developed in France into his first, and most influential book, A Treatise of Human Nature, which was published in 1739-40. In this work Hume set out to establish what he called ‘a science of man’ based on empirical and experimental enquiry into human psychology. Hume subjects our human beliefs, ways of thinking and modes of feeling to careful sceptical scrutiny, pointing out the fallacies, variations and uncertainties in our understanding of ourselves and the world. (see Craig 2005: 398) 

The Treatise had little impact when it came out - much to the disappointment of Hume. He was later critical of the book, feeling he had published his thoughts too soon and he went on to elucidate his thinking in other books. Nevertheless, the Treatise has come to be seen as a huge achievement. Writing of Hume’s work as a whole, Isaiah Berlin argued ‘that no man has influenced the history of philosophy to a deeper or more disturbing degree.’ (in Berlin: 163)

So, what ideas did Hume put forward in his work? I will now try to outline just a few strands of his thought. 

It could be argued that, following Plato, western philosophers concentrated on logic and intellect as the primary attributes of human beings – indeed many felt that human nature is a blank page upon which the intellect can inscribe its values, beliefs and habits. Hume broke with this way of thinking in that he pointed out that, instead of a blank page, human nature comes already imbued with particular passions – for instance, self-love, resentment at injuries and sexual desires – and that these passions have an impact on everything we do – including philosophy. Developing the ability to perceive the passions at work and to learn how to stand back from them is a prerequisite of wisdom and equanimity. Note the echoes here of Buddhist ideas about cravings as drivers of dissatisfaction and suffering.

Hume acknowledged the importance of the passions because he perceived them at work in his own character and through his reading of history. In this sense, Hume was an empiricist – his thinking was based on experience, rather than abstract theorising. Observation of his own thinking and feeling, and of the world around him, was the main tool used by Hume in developing his ideas and values. Hume was a sceptic and considered all human knowledge as being provisional, subject to revision in the light of fresh experience. He is very critical of grand metaphysical systems and considers dogmatism as a dangerous trait – leading as it often does to intolerance, tunnel-vision and fanaticism. He doubts the usefulness of religions, as he considers them to be grounded in unverifiable abstraction and superstition. ‘Superstitions’, he once said, ‘are dangerous, whereas the beliefs of philosophers are at worst ridiculous.’ 

Hume considered philosophy as a form of sceptical enquiry – an enquiry that has no end other than to enquire. One underlying purpose of this exploratory process is to live a life that is relatively peaceful and untroubled. However, Hume acknowledges that a wholly peaceful or untroubled life is impossible – we are always encountering situations, events and ideas that disturb us. But we can minimise our disturbance if we hold lightly to our beliefs and keep open to alternative beliefs and opinions. This is a sceptical approach that can help us to negotiate our way through life’s difficulties. 

According to one influential interpreter of Hume’s ideas, John Passmore, Hume argues that it is useful to pursue a sceptical argument to its conclusions, not in order to sweep away all beliefs and rational evidence for beliefs, but in order to sweep away the illusion that we can be certain that our beliefs can be based upon rational argument and can thus have any degree of certainty attached to them. It is this sense of certainty in the truth or evidential justification that Hume argues against. 

Passmore suggests that one of Hume’s main aims is to ‘free ourselves from any kind of dogmatism.’ And by ‘dogmatism’ he means ‘that attitude of mind which the eighteenth century called ‘enthusiasm’ and we call ‘fanaticism.’ That is, an extreme certainty that what one believes constitutes the only truth or viewpoint that is legitimate – and all other viewpoints are considered to be wrong, untrue, or even wicked. This dogmatic certainty then leads one to try to close down all other viewpoints – which is the approach taken by most extremists and fanatics. (Magee 1987: 154) 

Hume’s approach is to dismantle such false certainties and to help us open up to a variety of perspectives. If he were alive today Hume would probably consider fundamentalism and other authoritarian and extremist tendencies, whether religious or political, as very pernicious forms of dogmatism, to be dissected and dismembered using the tools of sceptical argument.

Passmore (ibid) reminds us that ‘Hume rejects the possibility of constructing large metaphysical systems,’ precisely because all systems can be shown to be flawed in terms of consistency of construction and/or as being built upon unreliable assumptions and beliefs. Hume is a very effective observer of human hubris and sees this as being particularly evident in relation to our unwarranted certainty in the truth or rightness (or righteousness) of our belief in one political, social or religious system or another – this unwarranted certainty he classed as superstition and it is superstition against which his philosophical enquiry is principally directed. Gotama Buddha can be said to have had a similar sceptical, agnostic approach to questions such as the existence of God or gods, or other notions of transcendence or abstraction. Gotama’s whole life can be seen as a process of sceptical enquiry – trying to identify what worked, and what didn’t work, in helping to reduce suffering and enhance wellbeing and fulfilment.

One other area of overlap between Buddhism and Hume’s thinking is his approach to the ‘self’. In Bryan Magee’s words: Hume ‘pointed out that although we take it for granted that we have selves, and that we are continuous selves, we cannot actually locate this self in observation or experience. When we introspect, what we encounter are thoughts, feelings, memories, emotions and so on, but we do not encounter some other entity, a self, that has those thoughts, feelings, etc.’ (Magee 1987: 150) This may be a startling realisation, but it is something recognised by both Hume and Gotama Buddha. Hume goes on to suggest that our belief in a continuity of identity in all objects and other people is very puzzling, because every time we blink, or turn away, or move away, from an object or person, they disappear. And yet when next we meet them, we assume they are the same! Hume has no answer to this puzzle – but there is a connection here with the Buddhist concepts of anatta (non-self) and sunyata (emptiness), both grounded in impermanence, ceaseless change (anicca) and interdependence.

French philosophers of his time referred to Hume as ‘le bon David.’ His friend, Adam Smith, once said Hume came as near to perfection as any human being possibly could. In 1776, dying from a protracted bowel disorder, Hume was visited by James Boswell who expected to find a disturbed and fearful man. Instead, it was Boswell himself who was disturbed to find Hume to be as cheerful and equanimous as usual.

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In the spirit of Hume’s argument that no person or community can have a monopoly on truth and his rejection of dogmatism of any kind, I want to briefly explore the notion of pluralism – the acceptance and celebration of multiple viewpoints on any given subject.

Imagine we are in a room with a dozen other people. We are each given a small piece of paper and asked to write a brief description of something in the room that particularly engages us. We each write a few sentences and then we pass our piece of paper to our neighbour. Then we take it in turns to read out our neighbour’s text. Immediately we notice how many different things have been written, how many different aspects of the room have been selected and described. I have done this little exercise with many different groups of people and the range of descriptions, and the varied modes of description, always surprise the participants. 

Each of us has a unique perspective on the world and we have our own way of articulating what we perceive – our own distinctive voice. As we move in the world our perspective changes - as does the way in which we articulate our perspective. In a sense what we’ve written on these pieces of paper are the beginnings of philosophy or religion – for philosophies and religions (idea and belief systems) are articulations of human perspectives on the universe, descriptions of the world from the perspective of particular communities – communities made up of individuals who each see the world from a different perspective but who at some point, and for whatever reason, agree to merge their perspectives into one, more or less consistent, worldview. This can be a great comfort and provide a sense of solidarity, but it can also be a cause of tension, conflict and suffering. 

It is important that we remember that each of us writes something different on our scrap of paper. Together in the room we may see things only slightly differently to our neighbour – maybe because our individual life experiences, upbringing, education, cultural background and aspirations are similar - but if the circumstances of our lives are very different, we may well have a very different perspective on things. Sometimes it is hard to live alongside people who have such different perspectives, different ways of writing about the world. On our scraps of paper are writings, or scriptures - the beginnings of holy books, political tracts and philosophical treatises – writings that can bring conflict as well as consolation and knowledge. 

For the sceptic what is written on each scrap of paper is a statement of enquiry, one small glimpse of the world, one tiny picture of how things might be at that moment, experienced from that point in the universe. If we think of what we’ve written as being true – it is a truth sitting alongside the other truths written by our neighbours in this room – one tiny truth like a single star amongst the constellations of truths that make up the sum of human knowledge and belief.  

Here’s a poem by Kenneth Rexroth (1905-82):

Buddha took some Autumn leaves

In his hand and asked

Ananda if these were all

The red leaves there were.

Ananda answered that it

Was Autumn and leaves

Were falling all about them,

More than could ever

Be numbered. So Buddha said,

“I have given you

A handful of truths. Besides

These there are many

Thousands of other truths, more

Than can ever be numbered.”

[from City of the Moon]

(Rexroth 2003: 709)

It is for these reasons that sceptics suggest that we suspend judgement, be respectful and tolerant of the ideas and beliefs of others - accept that there are always counter-arguments to those we might put forward and be open to the possibility, indeed the likelihood, that we may be mistaken in our ideas and beliefs. The sceptics, like Gotama Buddha, try to keep in mind the many scraps of paper, the many perspectives and truths. In this way they try to maintain a balanced view, a sense of harmony and equanimity in the face of competing viewpoints and opposing ideas. The cause of conflict is not that we have different perspectives on the world, but that we believe that ours is the only true perspective and that we feel the need to impose that perspective on others. For some reason we desire to have the same words written on all our scraps of paper, or to have only one piece of paper with one text. To achieve this we have, throughout history, argued and fought against, or even killed, our neighbours and our so-called enemies. And we still do. 

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Moving on from Hume I want to say something about another writer who was particularly concerned with the varied nature of belief and viewpoints – his name is Isaiah Berlin, and he lived from 1909 to 1997.

Isaiah Berlin was born in Riga in Latvia. He was the only child of a prosperous Russian Jewish merchant, Mendel, and his wife Marie. Between 1915 and 1920 the family lived in Russia, witnessing the revolutionary political and social turmoil of that period. In 1920 they were permitted to return to Riga and in 1921 they moved to the UK. Isaiah was an intelligent child and after schooling in London he went on to study classics, politics, philosophy and economics at Oxford University. In the early 1930s he became the first Jewish scholar to be elected to a Prize Fellowship at All Souls. Throughout the 1930s he was a central figure in philosophical circles in Oxford. In 1939 he published an intellectual biography of Karl Marx which is still widely read. During the 1940s, when he worked for the British Government in the United States, and into the 1950s, Berlin became more and more interested in the history of ideas particularly socialism in Russia, Karl Marx and the Enlightenment. From then until his death in 1997, he was one of the most well-known public intellectuals in Britain – often asked to comment on contemporary politics, philosophy and cultural trends.

Michael Ignatieff, in his excellent biography of Isaiah Berlin, argues that until the late 18th century European philosophers tended to believe that ‘for any genuine question there must be one true answer; that these truths were accessible to all human beings; and that all true answers to true questions must be compatible with each other.’ (Ignatieff 1998: 244) He goes on to point out that Berlin thought this line of argument was faulty. He argued instead that reason could lead us to divergent, even contradictory, answers to important questions. This meant that we have to find ways to live with multiple ‘truths,’ and the conflicting beliefs that are predicated on these truths. In order to live together in a pluralistic society, a society in which many valid truth-claims compete for our assent and belief, toleration is a necessity if we are to avoid endless conflict and tyranny. Dogmatic assertions of all kinds, and the authoritarian desire to impose one’s beliefs and values on others, or the submissive desire to take on trust any truth-claim made by the powerful, are to be challenged wherever possible. 

Berlin argues that what is needed in our age is, in his words, ‘not (as we are often told) more faith, or stronger leadership, or more scientific organisation. Rather it is the opposite - [what we need is] less Messianic ardour, more enlightened scepticism, more toleration of idiosyncrasies.’ (in Ignatieff 1998: 198) Both authoritarianism and unthinking submissiveness, are to be avoided – as far as possible. Berlin believed, like Kierkegaard and Sartre, that human beings are not wholly determined by class, race, history or gender. What marks human freedom, if it really is freedom, is the capacity to make choices, to develop a particular view of the world, and to express these views and choices within a social and cultural forum that is open to all. Ignatieff puts it well: ‘To free a man, Isaiah insisted, was to free him from obstacles – prejudice, tyranny, discrimination – to the exercise of his own free choice. It did not mean telling him how to use his freedom.’ (ibid: 202-203) What Berlin found so objectionable about communism as it usually manifested itself, and about religious authorities and other authoritarian regimes and rulers, was that they all tried to tell us what to think and how to act. This was a denial of freedom and an impediment to human growth, wellbeing and fulfilment. This is a view shared by Gotama Buddha, Kierkegaard and John Dewey.  

Berlin is probably best known for his distinction between two basic kinds of liberty or freedom: one, ‘negative liberty,’ that is, freedom from – freedom from constraints that might be placed on an individual or community – restricting their agency; and, two, ‘positive liberty,’ freedom to – to pursue goals and aspirations, and to be autonomous or self-ruling. We might consider ‘freedom from’ as protective freedom and ‘freedom to’ as creative freedom. There is an interplay between these two kinds of freedom – sometimes they clash, sometimes they are harmonious. It is worth noting what Berlin himself says about the pull of divergent moral values and the weighing up of positive and negative freedoms in any particular situation: ‘The first public obligation is to avoid extremes of suffering.’ He argues that moral conflicts, even if unavoidable, can be softened, opposing claims can be balanced and compromises can be reached. The goal should always be to maintain a ‘precarious equilibrium’ that avoids, as far as possible, ‘desperate situations’ and ‘intolerable choices’ - and the social, political conflicts that might arise from such choices and situations. (Cherniss & Hardy 2022) Note Berlin’s underlying concern with reducing or alleviating suffering – echoes again of Gotama Buddha’s concern to minimise dukkha and the daily practice of tolerance, compassion and coming to understanding.

Berlin traced the two kinds of liberty and the plurality of beliefs and value systems to what he saw as the divided nature of human beings. At heart, he argued, humans are ‘divided creatures, often required to choose between private and public claims [and] between reason and emotion.’ (Ignatieff 1998: 227) In our daily lives we are often pulled one way and another by hopes and fears, likes and dislikes, selfless acts and selfish thoughts – what David Hume calls ‘the passions.’ This is how we are. Gotama Buddha recognised these tensions and divisions and advocated mindful meditation and compassionate ethics as ways of observing, understanding and to some extent resolving them. In this way inner and outer peace could be developed and maintained.

When considering the exercise of freedoms, there is no suggestion that ‘anything goes’ - that all kinds of action and behaviour are to be tolerated. We may have to stand up for tolerance and pluralism – paradoxically being intolerant of violence, coercion, intimidation and tyranny, for these are the means by which one set of beliefs and opinions is imposed on others, thus being against both ‘freedom from’ and ‘freedom to.’ There are probably no systematic answers to these kinds of incompatibilities and tensions. Finding common ground that also enshrines differences and distinctions is a matter for constant negotiation and resolution – part of the dynamic process of learning to live together. Again, holding lightly to one’s beliefs, seeking understanding and maintaining sceptical curiosity and enquiry, would seem to be skills that we all need if we are to grow in mutual respect and communal harmony. Of course, if you come to believe in tyranny, or one absolute set of truths or values, then you set yourself at odds with Berlin’s two kinds of freedom. This might mean conflict will ensue between the supporters of freedom and those who oppose it.

One of the most important issues that our contemporary society faces is, how do we maintain equilibrium and freedom when faced with what seem to be incompatible belief and value systems? Berlin would probably have argued, like John Dewey, that some form of democracy is most likely to cope with these conflicting tendencies. No matter how flawed they may be, democracies provide a political space and structure within which different values and beliefs can be voiced and discussed and voted on. In this way tensions can be eased, freedoms can be exercised, and collective decisions can be made. Democratic systems of one kind or another seem to offer the most potential for enabling people to live together in relative harmony while maintaining a balance between protective and creative freedoms. Berlin was very critical of any proposed utopias ‘that promised release from the burden of moral choice.’ (ibid: 231) He saw communism, populism and any kind of authoritarian political structure as being flawed in this way because they offered only one collective value and belief system that could never nurture and realise the plurality of beliefs and values of its citizens.

Of course, as we have seen in recent times, people may use a democratic vote to bring populist or other authoritarian politicians to power. Thus, opening the way for their own democratic freedoms to be curtailed, or for some members of society to be subjugated and disrespected. This is a tendency that seems to be exacerbated by social media, a proliferation of lies and unvalidated truth claims, and the readiness of many people to accept ready-made and supposedly simple solutions to complex problems. Isaiah Berlin, like David Hume, John Dewey and Gotama Buddha, argues that we have to be mindful, vigilant and critical – weighing the evidence and making up our own minds. It would be beneficial if, like Berlin, we didn’t blindly accept claims made by individuals and organisations who promote one version of truth, belief and value. Instead, we need to maintain a mindful, detached and ironic scepticism. In this way we might develop a more dynamic open society that nurtures the multiple aspirations, beliefs and values of its citizens. For this reason, the development of everyone’s critical faculties, would seem to be a crucial aspect of an effective education system.

I hope you have found this talk to be of interest and that the ideas of David Hume and Isaiah Berlin will be helpful to you as you make up your own mind about these issues.

Thank you for listening and bye for now.

BIBIOGRAPHY

Berlin, Isaiah. 1956. The Age of Enlightenment: The 18th Century Philosophers. New York: George Braziller.

Cherniss, Joshua & Hardy, Henry eds. 2022. Isaiah Berlin entry, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Online at: https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/berlin/#BerlDefiValuPlur Accessed: 1 October 2024.

Craig, Edward. Ed. 2005. The Shorter Encyclopedia of Philosophy. London: Routledge.

Ignatieff, Michael. 1998. Isaiah Berlin: A Life. London: Chatto & Windus.

Magee, Bryan. 1987. The Great Philosophers: An Introduction to Western Philosophy. London: BBC Books.

Rexroth, Kenneth. 2003. The Collected Poems of Kenneth Rexroth. Port Townsend, USA: Copper Canyon Press.