Sensations as Signs, Not Pictures
What does a feeling of hardness have in common with the hard table it reports? Nothing at all, the book answers, and that is why perception cannot be a matter of copies.
The theory of ideas assumed that a sensation resembles its object, so that knowing the image meant knowing the thing. Reid finds no resemblance anywhere: the smell of a rose is a feeling in the mind, and a feeling can be like nothing but another feeling. Nature has instead made sensations signs, as a word is the sign of its meaning, and by our constitution they suggest a quality and a belief that it is present. He calls this a natural language, and argues that people could never have agreed on an artificial one without first understanding the looks, tones and gestures nobody teaches.
- perception
- sensation
- signs
- natural signs
- language
- secondary qualities
- mind
- mind-body problem
Enter a dialogue
- Someone reads anger in a stranger's face before a word is spoken. What have they understood, when nobody ever taught them that sign?
- Descartes, Locke and Berkeley all took ideas to be the mind's only objects. What entitles you to set aside an assumption every one of them shared?
- The pain of gout can no more resemble a square than a felt warmth can resemble fire. Why did philosophers ever suppose that sensations copy things?
- Pressing a table gives a feeling that resembles nothing in the table, yet we believe at once that it is hard. What links feeling and belief?
- Hardly anyone notices the feeling in the hand when gripping a tool, only the tool. Why does the mind pass so quickly from sign to thing?