Bentham. Michael QuinnЧитать онлайн книгу.
it might provide opportunities for recalling happy memories on one hand, and, more importantly, for moral and political learning on the other. He anticipated that auto-icons of political leaders might be transferred from a ‘hall of fame’ to a ‘hall of infamy’ according to the ongoing judgments of public opinion. Educational debates might be undertaken by auto-icons of figures on either side of a controversy, with voices supplied by actors and gestures by transforming the auto-icons into giant puppets. Bentham, of course, imagined that his auto-icon would feature heavily in such debates, while the drama would add to the attraction and the effect, thus opening a new avenue of indirect legislation (see Ch. 4).
§ 2. Logic and Language
As we have seen, Bentham decided early on that English law as it existed did not make sense: it was incomprehensible and unable to guide conduct consistently (2016b: 113–14, 293–5). Legal and political discussion was vitiated by the fact that its core vocabulary (words like right, duty and justice) consisted of terms either undefined or badly defined. Its metaphysics, its science of meaning, was a contradictory chaos, even without taking into account the penchant of common lawyers to work around procedural constraints by resorting to fictional devices, which made assertions all knew to be untrue. Designating phantoms, non-entities, as really existing entities did not offer a constructive solution.
Since law played an essential role in guiding action, leaving law in such a misleading and incomprehensible condition was a dereliction of duty on the part of legislators. In response, drawing on the inheritance of Locke, Hume and D’Alembert (1843: iii. 286), Bentham attempted no less than the invention of a new logic rooted in sense experience. Central to this enterprise was the verbal distinction, reflecting an underlying ontological distinction, between real and fictitious entities. ‘A fictitious entity is an entity to which, though by the grammatical form of the discourse employed in speaking of it existence is ascribed, yet in truth and reality existence is not meant to be ascribed.’ Conversely, a real entity . . . is ‘an entity to which existence is really meant to be ascribed’ (1997: 164 (UC cii. 16)).
The moment language, a construction of the human mind for the formation, recording and transmission of thought, evolved beyond declaration of desire or aversion towards particular real objects, it necessarily ascribed existence to things that had none. It was impossible for all but the most basic language to mirror the world, while to demand that it should was to demand the reduction of human capacity to communicate to the level of animals unable to form abstract concepts. In short, Bentham asserted that all language that deployed the names of anything other than really existing entities is figurative, or metaphorical (UC cii. 466 (1843: viii. 331)). The propositions it contains are fictitious; that is, they are strictly speaking falsehoods, asserting the existence of things that possess no independent existence.
Bentham was less clear than might be wished in delineating the category of real entities, but generally he regarded two sorts of things as real entities, namely particular physical substances or bodies on one hand, and certain psychical entities (that is sensations, impressions and ideas) on the other (1983c: 271n; 2016b: 424; UC ci. 341 (1843: viii. 262); UC ci. 347 (1843: viii. 267); UC ci. 417). All knowledge of external reality came through the mediation of sensory experience and reflection on it. Encounters with physical real entities deposited impressions via our sense organs, while the images or ideas created by those impressions could be recalled at leisure. Since all experience of the world came through our senses, the psychical entities, sensations, impressions and ideas were the direct objects of that experience, so that the existence of the external world was, properly speaking, inferential (1997: 180 (UC cii. 15); 1983c: 271n): we conclude that the wall before us exists because we make highly plausible inferences from the sensory data delivered by sight and touch.
Bentham wasted no time in querying the reality of the external world, arguing that no bad consequences could follow from such acceptance, in contrast to the pain quickly endured if we opted to disbelieve in the wall’s existence. In addition, he assumed not only that the world we perceive exists, but that sense experience is capable of delivering accurate information about it. The basis for accepting these assertions was twofold. First, our only source of information indicated its accuracy. Second, while that source of information might actually be deceptive, the consequences of accepting the evidence of sense were incomparably better than those of rejecting it: ‘in point of practice, no bad consequences can . . . possibly arise from supposing it to be true; and the worst consequences can not but arise from supposing it to be false’ (UC lxix. 52; see also 1997: 182 (UC cii. 15)).
The criterion that rapidly determines the reality of the existence of the external world is thus entirely utilitarian and pragmatic. How do we know that the evidence we perceive in the sensations we experience is reliable? We do not and cannot, but that evidence is the only kind available to us. At this point we might abandon hope of perceiving reality, but Bentham effectively dismissed this option because by denying any rational basis for preferring one course to another it would paralyse thought and action in pursuit of improvement. At this foundational level, utility, the demand that we prioritize pursuit of happiness, wins out over seeking truth in relation to questions that, given the informational constraints of human existence, we simply cannot answer. There is a deep connection here with Bentham’s goal, which was to fashion a discursive tool by which legal and political concepts could be rendered meaningful and determinate. Some philosophers have dismissed Bentham’s logic as revealing the shallowness of his approach and intellect (Peirce, 1931–58: v. para. 158). This, however, is to overlook the fact that, for him, investing effort in doubting the reliability of sensory data led nowhere and thus had little value: logic, like all other arts and sciences, aimed at happiness (UC ci. 92 (1843: viii. 219)).
There are both subjective and objective elements in Bentham’s approach to logic. In relation to the first, all human experience is subjective: we live our lives from the inside out, having no direct access to each other’s experience. Each of us inhabits a private reality, but language provides the bridge between these realities. The subjects of the most primitive communications were existing objects, to which reference was aided by the links between the objects, the names we gave them, and their mental images. When objects were present, we disambiguated our referents by pointing at them. When they were absent, we depended on the ability of their names to call forth the same image in our minds and that of our interlocutors. Such designation, the beginning of both language and logic, became embedded in the structure of language and thought, so that ‘a material image is the only instrument by which . . . conceptions can be conveyed from mind to mind’ (UC cii. 463). To exchange sense through words is, for Bentham, to exchange mental images (1843: iii. 189). Communication about real entities is facilitated by their presentation of unambiguous images, copies of sense impressions. Following Locke, Bentham distinguished between the names of ideas with natural archetypes, and those without: ‘What I assume then, is that of the objects . . . we are in use to speak of, some do, others do not exist. Those which do exist may be said to have their archetypes in nature: those which do not exist may be said not to have their archetypes in nature’ (UC lxix. 52; and see Locke, 1975: 372). However, because noun substantives often do name things, encountering a name produces ‘a disposition and propensity to suppose . . . the real existence, of a . . . correspondent thing’ (UC ci. 341 (1843: viii. 262)).
If we want to exchange meaning about abstract terms, the easiest way is to speak as if they were physical objects, even though this is a misdescription. The logical analysis by which ‘ripeness’, for instance, is first abstracted from a real ripe apple, then designated as a noun in its own right, and then attributed to other plants in a similarly appetizing state abounds in fictions, false propositions about the world, since the quality of ripeness has no existence in the absence of really existing objects in which it might inhere. Bentham anticipated Hans Vaihinger’s philosophy of ‘as if’ in regarding many basic categories with which thought seeks to understand the world as fictitious entities (1997: 88–120; Vaihinger, 1925: 157–66). However, while they both regarded qualities as fictitious, for Bentham the particular bodies to which qualities were attributed were impeccably real (UC cii. 461 (1843: viii. 330); 1983c: 262).
The metaphorical