Hume's "Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion"

I'm going to have to go back and listen to this again in six months or so. The arguments are quite complex, too complex to follow while running. Hume thoroughly explores all arguments that might be made about the existence or nature of God. Though Philo takes on the role of Devil's Advocate, which provides a nice twist in Part 12, overall, the dialogue lacks the  humor of Plato's dialogues.

At question in Hume’s treatise is whether we can come to a knowledge of God, or even the belief there is a God, by systematically observing nature. This method leads to a problem that tends to obfuscate the argument even today. Of course, Hume is writing at the cusp of the scientific revolution. So it makes sense that he should explore whether experience or reason, science or a prior arguments, are the best method for coming to a conclusion about God. The problem, as Hume recognized, is that any empirical discovery can be interpreted to prove either side of the argument. In the dialogues, Philo remarks that,    

“The discoveries by microscopes, as they open a new

universe in miniature, are arguments ·for theism· according

to me, whereas to you they are objections to it. The further

we push our researches of this kind, the more we are led to

infer that the universal cause of it all is vastly different from

mankind, and from anything of which we have empirical

knowledge” (Part 5)

The conclusion we have to come to, and that Pamphelus was so uncomfortable with, is that we believe what we believe, or often what we must believe, and filter the evidence through our belief. In this sense, all knowledge is a priori, though not necessarily rationally so. In fact, one could draw the inference that the more strongly we believe on either side of the hypothesis, the less rational we have become.  

Mesquite Ridge Trail in Pedernales Falls State Park

 The trail, which follows the Mesquite Ridge along the west side of the river, is mostly flat. Just enough switchbacks to make it interesting. Not as many views of the river valley as I'd expected.

Natural Religion

Listening to David Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion. I'm fascinated by his description of cynicism in the first chapter. According to Hume, cynicism is based on a distrust of human understanding. Because humans have only incomplete knowledge, they shouldn't assume to actually know anything. They should, thus, be skeptical of any belief, particularly a belief in God. (It's not clear yet which participant in the dialogue is voicing Hume's perspective. Must keep listening to figure that out.)

The version of cynicism prevalent in Hume's time seems to be the opposite of modern cynicism. Modern cynics assumes the superiority of human knowledge, that science has, or eventually will, open all mysteries, understand all things. Thus, we should take a cynical stance toward anything that can not be explained by science, IE, God.

There is a paradox revealed by these two versions of cynicism; either our understanding is incomplete, therefore we should be cynical about the existence of God, or our understanding is complete, therefore we should be cynical about the existence of God. This circularity reveals less about the existence of God than it does about cynicism, which seems to have a preconceived notion of the existence of God, then looks around for a rationale for that disbelief. 

Was Aristotle a Pragmatist?

Was Aristotle a pragmatist? Not as we understand pragmatism today, as a systematic method or philosophy of life—depending on whether you’re a Peircean or Jamesian pragmatist. 

In Topics, Aristotle explores the various ways one can make a rational argument, or question the logic of an opponent’s argument. In Book Three, which is devoted to methods for weighing alternatives, he writes in Chapter Two, “[W]hen two things are very like each other, and we cannot perceive any superiority of the one to the other, we must investigate from the consequences” and “we must take whichever consequence may be useful” (Trans. Octavius Owen).     

That whole idea of usefulness is what received Bertram Russell’s ire. He had no use for modern pragmatism. For Russell, we believed things because they were true, whether they were useful or not. This sounded too much like relativism for Russell. 

Russell neglected to notice the qualifier, when “we cannot perceive any superiority,” which for Aristotle, meant a rational reason to value one over the other.  If that rational reason existed, then what William James would go on to call the “pragmatic maxim” wouldn’t apply. True, Aristotle wasn’t above a little relativism. He goes on to write that he values “temperance over courage,” since temperance is useful all the time, and courage only some of the time. Even this bit or relativism points out one of the hallmarks of pragmatism, it tends to concern questions about abstracts in philosophy, and the as yet unknown in science, not the concrete or known. 

Peirce’s version of the pragmatic maxim is even more grounded in logic than Aristotle’s. Peirce writes "Consider what effects that might conceivably have practical bearing we conceive the object of our conception to have. Then, our conception of these effects is the whole of our concept of the object" ("How to Make Our Ideas Clear" 218)

James, as usual, is a little more whimsical: “Now, without pledging ourselves in any way to adopt this hypothesis, let us dally with it for a while to see to what consequences it might lead if it were true” (Pragmatism 302).

Ah, Russell would have a problem with that one. But, James would only apply this maxim to something that we were still uncertain of, not those things we were certain of.

Where the Rest of Us Run--My Hill Repeats

The Lower Rio Grande Valley is actually a river delta, not a valley. I have to drive an hour to get to the closest hill--unless I want to run up and down a freeway overpass. 

Instead I often run in a local park with two soccer fields. The soccer fields are in a basin designed to catch runoff in flood conditions, and are twenty feet or so below street level. I can be seen some mornings running up and down those twenty-foot berms, trying to get some hill repeats in.

Where the Rest of Us Trail Run

If you live in Colorado you have the Rockies. California has the Sierras. The East Coast has the Appalachian Tail. The rest of us, well, we make do. It's a four hour drive from the RGV to anywhere in the Hill Country, ten to Big Bend. So, I make do. Sometimes I run the service roads that run along the irrigation canals that crisscross the Valley. After a few rains, the canals can look almost park-like.

Platonic Form or Running Form?

Recently read Three Running Tips to Make You Faster by David Roche, Trail Runner Online, July 21, 2015. The next day, in the middle of my run, I decided to try out tip #2 “Engage Your Glutes.”

I remembered something about holding a quarter between your butt cheeks. So I gave it a try. The first thing I noticed was that my toes turned out. I knew that wasn’t good form, so I backed off a little. Better. I had a nice, neutral pronation. But that wasn’t the point. I was supposed to engage my gluts. All I felt was uncomfortable, like I has slight constipation. 

After the run I pulled the article back up and read what I had missed: “Don’t clench.” Precisely what I’d done. “Relax your hips and allow your glutes to stay together.” I’d been the opposite of relaxed. I read on to the next paragraph, where Roche writes, “while standing, relax your hips and feel your glutes engage. Your hips should move forward slightly and you may feel your spine straighten.” 

I tried that, and immediately noticed a difference in the placement of my hips. And it did feel relaxed. The next day, instead of clinching my cheeks while running, before running, I practiced that relaxed hip posture. When I started running, I noticed a difference immediately. I stopped occasionally during that run and made sure my hips were where I wanted them. Even so, I managed to knock twenty second off a mile for the same effort. 

Slightly more effort breathing. Not sure why. I finally noticed that I had allowed my spine to curve in, just enough that it was pressing against my lungs and cutting into my breath. I consciously straightened my spine and my breathing became more relaxed, even at an increased pace. 

I’ve noticed in the past that whenever I make a change to form, no matter how small, it results in unexpected changes. I look forward to seeing the results of this change.  

Is there are Platonic lesson to be learned here? I guess we could look at Plato's idea of forms, that what we see is just the appearance of the real, that there is somewhere a perfect form. The perfect runner or the perfect form? I know that I am neither a perfect runner, not have perfect form. In fact, I know that every time I read advice about form, I need to test it to make sure it works for this imperfect body.