Lecture Supplement On “Augustine’s
Cogito Argument:”
Copyright © 2024 Bruce W. Hauptli
In his
City of God [426], St. Augustine
offers something like Descartes’ cogito:
but, without any
illusion of image, fancy, or phantasm, I am certain that I am, that I know that
I am, and that I love to be and to know.
In the face of these truths, the
quibbles of the skeptics lose their force.
If they say: “What if you are mistaken?—well, if I am mistaken, I am.
For, if one does not exist, he can by no means be mistaken.
Therefore, I am, if I am mistaken.
Because, therefore, I am, if I am mistaken, how can I be mistaken that I
am, since it is certain that I am, if I am mistaken?
And because, if I could be mistaken, I would have to be the one who is
mistaken, therefore, I am most certainly not mistaken in knowing that I am.
Nor, as a consequence, am I mistaken in knowing that I know.
For, just as I know that I am, I also know that I know.
And when I love both to be and to know, then I add to the things I know a
third and equally important knowledge, the fact that I love.
Nor am I mistaken that I love,
since I am not mistaken concerning the objects of my love.
For, even though these objects were false, it would still be true that I
loved illusions.[1]
On November 14, 1640 Descartes
writes to Andres Covius, a Dutch Minister who brought Augustine’s argument to
his attention:
you have obliged
me by bringing to my notice the passage of Saint Augustine which bears some
relation to my “I think, therefore I am.”
Today I have been to read it at the library of this city [Leiden], and I
do indeed find that he makes use of it to prove the certainty of our being, and
then to show that there is in us a kind of image of the Trinity, in that we
exist, we know that we exist, and we love this being and the knowledge that is
in us. On the other hand, I use it
to make it known that this I who is
thinking is an immaterial substance,
and has nothing in it that is corporeal.
These are two very different things….[2]
In his
A Brief History of the Paradox, Roy
Sorensen maintains that:
when
[Augustine’s] passage was pointed out to Descartes, he replied…that Augustine
fails to use the argument to show that “this
I which thinks is
an immaterial substance with no
bodily element.” However, in
The Trinity (10.10.16), Augustine
does seem to gravitate toward this conclusion from the premise that he can doubt
that he has a body but not that he has a mind.
Descartes claimed that he had
never heard of Augustine’s cogito.
Descartes’s Catholic education at La Flèche makes this unlikely.
Augustine’s writings were popular among Descartes’s Jesuit instructors.
Augustine presents his cogito
seven times in such intensively studied works such as
The Trinity and
City of God.
Augustine’s loosely strung
anticipations of Descartes’s Meditations
do not constitute an attempt to systematically found a philosophy inside out à
la Descartes. Descartes is far and
away the more precise and organized thinker.
Yet Augustine clearly had more than a lucky premonition of the Cartesian
mind set.[3]
While Augustine’s and Descartes’
arguments are very similar, their
orientations are very different.
Descartes seeks rational certainty—he
wants to know what we can be absolutely certain of on our own.
He wants to construct the edifice of human "scientific" knowledge on this
foundation, and he believes that it is in knowledge that our “good” lies.
1,214 years earlier, Augustine (like the early modern philosophers) also
sought certainty in a world where the old order (the Roman world) has fallen
apart—he wrote his City of God, in
part, to explain why his deity allowed Rome to fall to the barbarians [410
C.E.]. Between Augustine and
Descartes stands the Middle Ages, however.
As the “first of the Medievals,” Augustine finds his certainty (as well
as peace and security) in his faith.
He contends that his City of God “...shuns [universal skepticism] as a
form of insanity” and “...believes the Old and New Testaments...as canonical.
Out of these he formulates that faith according to which the just man
lives. And in light of this faith
we walk forward without fear of stumbling....”[4]
As his Confessions make clear,
Augustine has an acute sense of sin—one which is almost “abnormal” to the modern
eye.[5]
It is important to remember what the first sin is (Adam’s sin), and to
note that Augustine constantly tried to avoid the sin of intellectual pride.
Descartes, who is on the “modern” side of the Middle Ages, is also a
sincere and believing Catholic, but he would find certainty, peace, and security
in human rational knowledge.
While both are writing at a time when the security provided by an earlier
era (the Roman and the Medieval, respectively), has come undone, and a “new
methodology” is sought, their orientations toward reality, knowledge, religion,
and the deity they both worship is radically different.
As W.T. Jones notes:
...Augustine was
not greatly interested in the problem of knowledge....his consuming
interest...was “peace”—the desire for security....Second...he held that reason
is an inadequate instrument for reaching the truth, which can be attained only
through faith. Knowledge, he
thought, is validated by faith in God’s goodness and providence, not by logical
reasoning or geometrical demonstration.
It is thus characteristic of Augustine’s whole point of view that the
passage just quoted [above] about self-knowledge was merely incidental to his
account of the nature of the Trinity.[6]
In his
The Enlightenment: An Interpretation,
Peter Gay maintains that:
Augustine sees
man as unhappy; puzzled by himself, his world, and his destiny.
All men want happiness, and all philosophers seek the way to it, but
without divine aid all fail: “Thou has made us for Thyself, and our heart is
restless until it rest in Thee”—this famous exclamation from the
Confessions is the exclamation of a
tormented soul weary of mere thought, weary of autonomy, yearning for the
sheltering security found in dependence on higher powers.
When Augustine speaks of
understanding or reason, these
words have a religious admixture: philosophy to him is touched by the divine.[7]
...Augustine’s
dictum stands the traditional method of classical philosophizing on its head:
God, who to the ancients was the result of thought, now becomes its
presupposition. Faith is not the
reward of understanding; understanding is the reward of faith.
Man may search for the explanation of his situation by his humble reason;
he may even try to order his moral conduct through the understanding.
But the explanation for the human condition is a myth—the Fall; the guide
to his salvation is a supernatural being—Jesus Christ; the proof text for the
primacy of faith over reason is a divinely inspired book—the Bible; and the
interpreter of this Book is an infallible authority—the Church.
All four testify to the collapse of confidence in man’s unaided
intellect.
Hence,
nisi credideritis, non intelligetis: unless you believe, you will not
understand.[8]
This injunction is the center of Augustine’s doctrine on the relation of
philosophy to theology, and through its enormous authority, it became the center
of medieval speculation on the same subject, although the Scholastics, as the
philosophes knew, provided intellect with much room for play.[9]
Clearly, there is a difference in
the use which these two thinkers would make of their common argument.
In these differing contexts, one might contend, they are (or, better,
almost are) different arguments.
In his “Idealism and Greek Philosophy: What Descartes Saw and Berkeley
Missed” M.F. Burnyeat offers a discussion which can help us see yet more clearly
these differing contexts. He
maintains that:
Greek philosophy
does not know the problem of proving in a general way the existence of an
external world. That problem is a
modern invention....The problem which typifies ancient philosophical enquiry in
a way that the external world problem has come to typify philosophical enquiry
in modern times is quite the opposite.
It is the problem of understanding how thought can be of nothing or what
is not, how our minds can be exercised on falsehoods, fictions, and illusions.[10]
[1] St.
Augustine,
The City
of God [426] XI 26, abridged and translated
by Gerald Walsh, Demetrius Zema, Grace Monahan,
and Daniel Honan (Garden City: Image, 1958), pp.
235-236.
[2] From
Rene
Descartes: Philosophical Essays and
Correspondence, ed. Roger Ariew, trans.
Roger Ariew and Marjorie Grene (Indianapolis:
Hackett, 2002), pp. 90-91.
[3] Roy
Sorensen,
A Brief History of the Paradox (
[4]
Ibid.,
p. 466.
[5] Cf.,
St. Augustine,
Confessions [398], trans. R.S. Pine-Coffin
(Baltimore: Penguin, 1961).
[6] W.T.
Jones, A
History of Western Philosophy: The Medieval Mind
v. 2 (second edition) (N.Y.: Harcourt, 1969), p.
88.
[7] Peter
Gay, The
Enlightenment: An Interpretation (N.Y.: W.W.
Norton, 1966), p. 230.
[8] Gay’s
footnote here reads: “this much-quoted passage
is from the Septuagint version of the Bible,
from Isaiah, VII, 9.
All other versions translate the Hebrew
differently.
The King James Version has, “If you will
not believe, surely ye shall not be
established.”
[9]
Ibid.,
pp. 230-231.
[10] M.F.
Burnyeat, “Idealism and Greek Philosophy: What
Descartes Saw and Berkeley Missed,”
The
Philosophical Review v. 91 (1982), pp. 3-40,
p. 19.
Midcoast Senior College Website
Email: hauptli@fiu.edu
Last revised: 07/21/24.