Appendix 2. - (107)

Dr. Reid would like to banish ideas from philosophy because he finds them somewhat awkward. To do so, one would have to discover how to eliminate the term idea from all vocabularies, remove it from all languages, forbid common sense from uttering or thinking it. But, it is in fact a term very frequently used, as much by ordinary people as philosophers, in both scientific and everyday speech.
What exactly is Dr. Reid proposing? The title of his work would have me believe that his sole aim is to defend the principles of common sense against philosophy which is bent on their destruction. Is he, perhaps, the kind of person who sets out to defend common sense but begins by opposing it?

Claiming that one's own philosophy adheres to common sense may be true if we wish merely to express what we intend, but it is at least presumptuous, if we mean that our own philosophy is actually in accordance with it. Whatever the philosopher claims, he remains nonetheless what he is, a poor fallible mortal, a mere individual. One will tell you in all earnestness: 'My philosophy is that of common sense.' That is certainly not the case: it is neither more nor less than your philosophy. Another will boldly say: 'All the others are guided by their prejudices; one should follow reason alone, as I do.' These are rash and empty words; a person will at most follow what he considers reasonable, but he cannot act as reason itself, he is not the personification of reason. Even if the whole of mankind (setting aside revealed truth) were to tell you with one voice: 'This is truth', you would be entitled to reject such a bold statement and reply frankly: 'Mankind is corrupt. As soon as you speak you are lying! What arrogance leads you to claim that what you think is truth? Say: "This is my opinion"; do not say: "This is truth." Such an expression is for God alone'. However, a person, either on his own or in a group always tends to see himself as greater than he is. The cheating politician speaks on behalf of the nation; every newspaper always assures you that it speaks for public opinion; every demagogue declaims for the sake of the people and defends the people's rights against its inhuman oppressors.

I wanted to mention this when speaking about the philosophy of Dr. Reid because he is so modest and circumspect. My remark in such circumstances is all the more effective and shows how easy it is for a philosopher to promise more than he can achieve, and how common a defect it is among those who rely upon themselves for their arguments. The Fathers and so many writers of the Catholic Church, it must be said in all justice, are the only ones whose deep, genuine modesty is universal, sustained and sufficient to allow a person to attain truth.

Moreover, the problem of the existence of ideas which Dr. Reid raised is extremely important and extremely difficult, and for such a great man to have simply highlighted the problem is of incalculable value.
The Scholastics, however, had already seen this. They realised that the object of our thought, when we are thinking about real entities, could not be the idea but must be the real thing itself. As a result, they said: 'We think about something, but because it is external to us, we need, in order to think about it, an idea (or image) to make it present to our spirit.' I must admit that this explanation, taken in its most obvious sense, is unsatisfactory. It is always possible to reply that we think about something external to us by means of an idea. In this case the object of our thought is in the last analysis something not present to us. It is not absurd, therefore, that my understanding, as though going outside itself, should grasp an object remote from it. But if this is feasible and possible, what use is the idea? Is it necessary? The reason which persuaded me to accept the idea was merely the need to confine the spirit within itself, so to speak. Now, on the other hand, the idea is itself an instrument by which the understanding ventures forth to grasp the external object which is different and distant from itself. The question was not how our understanding could make the external thing its term and object, but whether it was possible for the external thing itself to be this term and object. If this does not contradict, I have no need of the idea. All I need, when sensations occur, is to let my understanding range freely over them and grasp the external objects as they are, and thus perceive them. This is the objection we can raise about the solution proposed by the Scholastics, when taken in its original sense. In my view, however, the Scholastic or Aristotelian solution admits of an interpretation which makes it more plausible. I intend to present it elsewhere when I have dealt with other concepts essential to a clear understanding of it.

Later still, I shall give the solution which I think allows for Dr. Reid's problem over ideas. I shall show that such a difficulty arises partly from philosophers' lack of clarity in expression, and certainly from the erroneous understanding of certain philosophical expressions. For example, when I say that an idea expresses something as its image, portrait, type, sign or indication, I am using expressions which are to be interpreted with great caution. Otherwise they produce the most serious misunderstandings. Let us briefly see how this occurs.
Recall what was said earlier about the identity between representative and common idea, and you will understand what I mean in saying that an idea is something representative. Let us analyse this statement under both its aspects.

1. Everything representative is common or universal. In fact, whatever is representative of something is also representative of all similar things, since a number of things that are similar to a third are similar to each other. There can be only one exception to this: that is, when only one thing can be similar to what is representative.
2. What is common or universal is representative. On the other hand, a thing is representative of another only in so far as it has some quality in common with it. Thus a portrait is representative of the persons who resemble it, not in so far as it is an individual picture. As individual, it is a strip of canvas, some priming, oil, and particular colours mixed and prepared in the oil. In all these things which constitute its own, individual, real existence, the portrait cannot be like any actual thing. When considered merely in its individuality, it exists only in itself, has no relationship (since it abstracts from such relationships) and consequently represents nothing. It is therefore intended to represent persons only by virtue of what it has in common with them, that is, in virtue of exerting on our spirit an impression similar to that offered by the faces of such persons. It is ourselves who find the likeness between the portrait and such persons because we compare the impressions made on us by the picture and the persons, and find them similar. Discovering the similarities in these impressions is exactly the same as ascertaining some common quality in them as, for example, the flesh pink of the colouring or the expression on the face or the curve on the lips, and so on. Now, common quality means, in fact, that what is in one subject is also in the other. This common quality is thus one single thing which we see in a number of subjects. But although it is a single thing in us, we assign it to two or more subjects determined and individuated by their own features and by their real existence. We do this by means of different intellectual acts of our spirit. This single thing is thus a single species in us, by which we see a number of things when they act individually upon our senses. This is how we recognise that such things resemble each other. Seeing two or more similar things means 1. seeing a number of things by means of a single species through which we are shown their similar elements and 2. receiving the particular, individual impressions which each of them produces in us and through which we see these things in so far as they exist individually in themselves without any relationship of similarity between them. Now, it is clear, merely by observing things in so far as they exist externally to us and in themselves, that they are not similar since none of them goes outside itself; each is absolutely confined to its own existence. If, therefore, we see similarities in them, if (which amounts to the same thing) we see their similar qualities through a single species, we have to admit that, in this respect, we do not see them as they are in themselves, in their proper, real existence. We see them by means of a species which is in us. We call this species idea, which is representative in the sense that it is a quality replicated in many subjects.

Here I cannot discuss further or clarify this issue which belongs to the treatise on the nature rather than the origin of ideas. However, I had to demonstrate the existence of ideas so fiercely assailed by the Scottish philosopher. To demonstrate the origin of ideas, we must be sure that they actually exist. Otherwise we are in danger of constructing a theory upon a non-existent 'fact'. This has frequently happened to poor sages here below.