OF THE MAXIM THAT EVERY EFFECT MUST HAVE A CAUSE.
IN a former section, I referred to some of the false assumptions which
have been incautiously conceded to the necessitarian, and in which he
has laid the foundations of his system; but I have not, as yet, alluded
to the argument or deduction in which he is accustomed to triumph. This
argument, strange as it may seem, is a deduction, not from any principle
or general fact which has been ascertained by observation or experience,
but from a self-evident and universal truth.
That every effect must have a cause, is the maxim upon which the
necessitarian takes his stand, and from which he delights to draw his
favourite conclusion. It may be well, therefore, to examine the argument
which has been so frequently erected upon the maxim in question.
Although from various considerations, it has been very justly concluded,
that there is somewhere a lurking fallacy in the argument, yet it has
not been precisely shown where the fallacy lies. Suspicion has been
thrown over it: nay, abundant reason has been shown why it should be
rejected; but yet the fallacy of it should be dragged from the place of
its concealment, and laid open in a clear light, so as to render it
apparent to every eye. If it is a sophism, it certainly can be exposed,
and it should be done.
In order to do this, it will be necessary to consider the nature and use
of the maxim, that every effect must have a cause. I am aware, that no
necessitarian of the present day, would choose to express this maxim as
I have expressed it; for in such a form Mr. Hume has shown that it
contains no information, and is indeed a most insignificant proposition.
And, in truth, what does it amount to? Cause and effect are correlative
terms; and when we speak of an effect, we mean something that is
produced by a cause; and hence, the famous proposition, that every
effect has a cause, amounts only to this, that every effect is an
effect!
After Mr. Hume had caused the subject to be viewed in this light, the
usual mode of expression was dropped; and it has now become the common
practice to say, that there is no change in nature without a cause. But
I do not see how this mends the matter _in the least:_ it may disguise,
but it does not alter the nature or real import of the maxim in
question. For when it is said that every change has a cause, it is
evident that a change is conceived of under the idea of an effect. It is
supposed to be produced by a cause, and therefore it must be considered
as an effect; and if the idea remains precisely the same, I do not see
that giving it a new name, can possibly make any difference in the
meaning of the proposition.
The maxim, that every effect must have a cause, is a self-evident and
universal proposition. Its truth is involved in the very definition of
the terms of which it is composed. In this respect it is like the axioms
of geometry. When it is said, for example, that "the whole is equal to
the sum of the parts," we at once perceive the truth of the axiom;
because the "whole" is merely another name for "the sum of the parts."
It is intuitively certain that they are equal, because they are but
different expressions of the same thing. So, likewise, when it is
affirmed, that every effect or every change in nature has a cause, we
instantly perceive the truth of the proposition; inasmuch as an effect
is that which is produced by a cause. The very idea of an effect implies
its relation to a cause; and to say, that it has one, is only to say,
that an effect is an effect. For if it were not produced by a cause, it
would not be an effect.
The maxim under consideration is as unquestionably true as any axiom in
Euclid. It does not depend for the evidence of its truth upon
observation, or experience, or reasoning; it carries its own evidence
along with it. No sooner are the terms in which it is expressed
understood, than it rivets irresistible conviction on the mind. It is a
fundamental law of belief; and it is impossible for the imagination of
man to conceive, that an effect, or that which is produced by a cause,
should be without a cause. And it were just as idle an employment of
one's time, to undertake to prove such a proposition, as it would be to
attempt to refute it.
Now, one of the fallacies of the argument of the necessitarian is, that
it is an attempt to draw a conclusion from the axiomatical truth above
referred to, as from the major of a syllogism. Every such attempt must
necessarily be vain and fruitless. "Axioms," justly remarks Mr. Locke,
"are not the foundations on which any of the sciences are built." And
again, "It was not the influence of those maxims which are taken for
principles in mathematics, that hath led the masters of that science
into the wonderful discoveries they have made. Let a man of good parts
know all the maxims generally made use of in mathematics never so
perfectly, and contemplate their extent and consequences as much as he
pleases, he will, by their assistance, I suppose, scarce ever come to
know, that the square of the hypothenuse in a right-angled triangle, is
equal to the squares of the two other sides. The knowledge, that the
whole is equal to the parts, and, if you take equals from equals, the
remainder will be equal, helped him not, I presume, to this
demonstration. And a man may, I think, pore long enough on those axioms,
without ever seeing one jot the more of mathematical truths."
The same doctrine is still more distinctly stated by Dugald Stewart. "If
by the first principles of a science," says he, "be meant those
fundamental propositions from which its remoter truths are derived, the
axioms cannot, with any consistency, be called the first principles of
mathematics. They have not, (it will be admitted,) the most distant
analogy to what are called the first principles of natural
philosophy:--to those general facts, for example, of the gravity and
elasticity of the air, from which may be deduced, as consequences, the
suspension of the mercury in the Torricellian tube, and its fall when
carried up to an eminence. According to this meaning of the word, the
first principles of mathematical science are, not the _axioms_ but the
_definitions_; which definitions hold, in mathematics, precisely the
same place that is held in natural philosophy by such general facts as
have now been referred to."
But the doctrine in question rests upon a firmer basis than that of
human authority. Let any man examine the demonstrations in geometry, and
attentively consider the principles from which the conclusions of that
science are deduced, and he will find that they are _definitions_, and
not _axioms_. He will find; that the properties of the triangle are
derived from the definition of a triangle, and those of a circle from
the definition of a circle. And then let him try his own skill upon the
axioms of that science; let him arrange them and combine them in all
possible ways; let him compare them together as long as he pleases, and
determine for himself, whether they can be made to yield a single
logical inference. If the question is thus brought to the test of an
actual experience, I think it is not difficult to foresee, that the
decision must be in favour of the doctrine of Stewart, and that it will
be seen, that no such proposition as that whatever _is, is,_ can even
constitute the postulate, or first principle, in any sound argument; and
that it is only from general facts, such as are ascertained by
observation and experience, that we can derive logical consequences of
any kind whatever, either in relation to matter or to mind.
If there is any truth in the foregoing remarks, or correctness in the
position of Locke and Stewart, it is certainly one of the capital errors
of Edwards, as well as of other necessitarians, that he has undertaken
to deduce his doctrine from a metaphysical axiom, or identical
proposition.
Supposing this to be the case, how has it happened, it may be asked,
that the argument of the necessitarian has appeared so conclusive to
himself, as well as unanswerable to others? The reason is plain. Having
set out with a proposition, which is barren of all consequences, as the
basis of his argument, it became necessary, in order to arrive at the
destined conclusion, to assume, somewhere and somehow, in the course of
his reasoning, the very point which he had undertaken to prove.
Accordingly, this has been done; and the tacit assumption of the point
in dispute seems not to have been suspected by him.
The justice of this remark may be shown, by a reference to the argument
of the necessitarian. When this is reduced to the form of a syllogism,
it stands thus: Every effect has a cause; a volition is an effect; and,
therefore, a volition has a cause. In the middle term, which assumes
that a volition is an effect, the point in dispute is taken for granted,
the whole question is completely begged.
If we take the words in any sense, yet as they are correlative terms,
the maxim that every effect must have a cause is self-evident; and
hence, no conclusion can be drawn from it, unless the conclusion
intended to be drawn is assumed in the middle term of the syllogism. It
either begs the question, or it decides nothing to the purpose. It is
true, that every change in nature must have a cause; that is to say, it
is in some sense of the word an effect, and consequently must have a
corresponding cause; but in what sense does every act of the mind come
under the idea and definition of an effect? This is the question. Is it
brought to pass by the prior action of motive? Is it necessitated? Upon
this precise question, the maxim that every change must have a cause can
throw no light; it only seems to refer to this point, by means of the
very convenient ambiguity of the terms in which it is expressed. The
necessitarian never fails to avail himself of this ambiguity. He seems
both to himself and to the spectator to be carrying on a "great
demonstration;" and this is one reason, perhaps, why the mind is
diverted from the sophistical tricks, the metaphysical jugglery, by
which both are deceived. Let us look a little more narrowly at this
pretended demonstration.
The maxim in question is applied to volition; every change in nature,
even the voluntary acts of the mind, must have a cause. Now according to
Edwards' explanation of the term, this is a proposition which, I will
venture to say, no man in his right mind ever ventured to deny. It is
true, that President Edwards tells us of those, who "imagine that a
volition has no cause, or _that it produces itself_;" and he has very
well compared this to the absurdity of supposing, "that I gave myself my
own being, or that I came into being without a cause," p. 277. But who
ever held such a doctrine? Did any man, in his right mind, ever contend
that "a volition could produce itself," can arise out of nothing, and
bring itself into existence? If so, they were certainly beyond the reach
of logic; they stood in need of the physician. I have never been so
unfortunate as to meet with any advocate of free-agency, either in
actual life or in history, who supposed that a volition arose out of
nothing, without _any cause_ of its existence, or that it produced
itself. They have all maintained, with one consent, that the mind is the
cause of volition. Is the mind nothing? If a man should say, as so many
have said, that the mind produces its own volitions, is that equivalent
to saying, that nothing produces it; that it comes "into being
accidentally, without any cause of its being?" Such is the broad
caricature of their doctrine, which is repeatedly given by President
Edwards.
It is freely admitted, and the advocates of free-agency have always
admitted, that volition has a cause, as that word is frequently used by
Edwards. He tells us, that by cause he sometimes means any antecedent,
whether it exerts any positive influence or no. Now, in this sense, it
is conceded by the advocates of free-agency, that motive itself is the
cause of volition. This is the question: Is motive the efficient, or
producing cause of volition? This is the question, I say; but Edwards
frequently loses sight of it in a mist of ambiguities; and he lays
around him in the dark, with such prodigious strength, that if his
adversaries were not altogether imaginary beings, and therefore
impassible to his ponderous blows, I have no doubt he would have slain
more of them than ever Samson did of the Philistines.
The manner in which the necessitarian speaks of cause in his maxims, and
reasonings, and pretended demonstrations, is of very great service to
him. It includes, as we are told, every condition or cause of volition;
(what a heterogeneous mass!) every thing without which volition could
not come to pass. Yea, it is used in this sense, when it is said that
motive is the cause of volition. What shall we do, then, with this
broad, this most ambiguous proposition? Shall we deny it? If so, then we
deny that volition has any cause of its existence, and fall into the
great absurdity of supposing "volition to produce itself." Shall we
assent to it, then? If so, we really admit that motive is the efficient
cause of volition; and thus, by denying, we are made to reject our own
doctrine, while, by affirming, we are made to receive that of our
opponents. This way of proposing the doctrine of necessity very strongly
reminds one of a certain trick in legislation, by which such things are
forced into a bill, that in voting upon it, you must either reject what
you most earnestly desire, or else sanction and support what you most
earnestly detest. We should, therefore, neither affirm nor deny the
whole proposition as it is set forth by the necessitarian; we should
touch it with the dissecting knife, and cure it of its manifold
infirmities.
The ambiguity of the term cause is, indeed, one of the most powerful
weapons, both of attack and defence, in the whole armory of the
necessitarian. Do you affirm the mind to be the cause of volition? Then,
forthwith, as if the word could have only one meaning, it is alleged,
that if the mind is the cause of volition, it can cause it only by a
preceding volition; and so on _ad infinitum_. Hence, your doctrine must
needs be absurd; because the word is understood, yea, and will be
understood, in its most restrained and narrow sense. But do you deny
motive to be the cause of volition? Then, how absurd are you again; you
are no longer understood to use the word in the same sense; you now
mean, not only that motive is not the producing cause of volition, but
that there is absolutely nothing upon which it depends for its
existence, and that "it produces itself." Does Edwards affirm that
motive is the cause of volition; that motive causes volition to arise
and come forth into existence; that it is not merely "the negative
occasion" thereof, but the cause in the most proper sense of the word;
that it is "the effectual power which produces volition?" What then?
Dare you assert, in the face of such teaching, that motive is not the
cause of volition? If so, then you are a most obstinate and perverse
caviller; and you are silenced by the information that he _sometimes_
uses the word cause to signify any antecedent, whether it has any
positive influence or no. Yea, he gives this information, he declares,
to "cut off occasion from any that might seek occasion to cavil and
object against his doctrine," p. 51. These, and many other things of the
same kind, are to be found in the writings of Day, and Edwards, and
Collins, and Hobbes; and whosoever may be pleased to follow them,
through all the doublings and windings of their logic, may do so at his
leisure. It is sufficient for my present purpose to remark, that Edwards
has included a number of different ideas in his definition of cause; and
that he turns from the one to the other of these ideas, just as it suits
the exigencies of his argument. It is in this way, as we have seen, that
the famous maxim, that every change in nature must have a cause, has
been made to serve his purpose.
He did not look at a volition and an effect, so as to mark their
differences narrowly, and to proceed in his reasonings according to
them; he set out with the great and universal truth, that every change
in the universe must have a cause; from which lofty position the
differences of things in this nether world were invisible. Having
secured this position to his entire satisfaction, being firmly persuaded
in his own mind, that "nonentity could not bring forth," he supposed he
had gained a strong foothold; and from thence he proceeded to reason
downward to what actually takes place in this lower world!
We are but "the humble servants and interpreters of nature," and we "can
understand her operations only in so far as we have observed them." The
necessitarian takes higher ground than this. He disdains the humble and
patient task of observation. He plants his foot upon an eternal and
immutable axiom; and, turning away from the study of what is, he
magisterially pronounces what _must be_.
It is easy to see how he constructs his system. Every change in nature
must have a cause, says he; this is very true; there is no truth in the
world more certain, according to the sense in which he frequently
understands it. If he means to assert, that nothing, whether it be an
entity, or an attribute, or a mode, can bring itself into existence, no
one disputes his doctrine. It is most true, that there can be no choice
without a mind that chooses, or an object in view of which it chooses; a
mind, an object, and a desire, (if you please,) are the indispensable
prerequisites, the invariable antecedents, to volition; but there is an
immense chasm between this position and the doctrine, that the mind
cannot put forth a volition, unless it is made to do so by the action of
something else upon it. This immense chasm, the necessitarian can cross
only by stepping over from one branch of his ambiguous proposition to
another; he either does this, or he does not reach the point in
controversy at all.