In his New Essays On Human Understanding, Leibniz’s mouthpiece Theophilius makes somewhat frequent reference to what he calls “blind thought” (more accurately, according to the notes in the Bennett/Remnant translation, Leibniz’s typical usage is the French phrase pensées sourdes, which would be “deaf” or “muffled” thoughts, but he equates this with the latin phrase cogitationes caecae and so Bennett/Remnant opted for translating this as “blind thought”).
This category of thought occurs when the mind manipulates symbols without having the ideas signified by those symbols present to our minds. Leibniz’s helpful illustration (p. 186 in the Bennett/Remnant translation) is the case of “those who calculate algebraically with only intermittent attention to the geometrical figures which are being dealt with.” Leibniz goes on to say:
Words ordinarily do the same thing, in this respect, as do the symbols of arithmetic and algebra. We often reason in words, with the object itself virtually absent from our mind. But this sort of knowledge cannot influence us—something livelier is needed if we are to be moved. Yet this is how people usually think about God, virtue, happiness; they speak and reason without explicit ideas—it is not that they cannot have the ideas, for they are there in their minds, but that they do not take the trouble to carry the analysis through. (p. 186)
This discussion, in which Leibniz first introduces blind thought, occurs in the midst of Leibniz’s commentary on Locke’s views on power and freedom. Specifically, it appears that Leibniz introduces the notion in response to Locke’s view that the main determinant of the will is not the prospect of a greater good, but instead, some strong present unease. After explaining blind thought, Leibniz explains that “if we prefer the worse it is because we have a sense of the good it contains, but not of the evil it contains or of the good which exists on the opposite side.”
As suggested by the initial illustration of algebraic reasoning, Leibniz’s stance on blind thought is not that it is always problematic. In a later discussion, relating to the purpose and origins of language, Leibniz suggests that blind thought can be of great utility:
I believe that without the desire to make ourselves understood we would indeed never have created language. Once created, however, it also enables man to reason to himself, both because words provide the means for remembering abstract thoughts and because of the usefulness of symbols and blind thoughts in reasoning, since it would take too long to lay everything out and always replace terms by definitions.” (p. 275)
This category of blind thought is in some ways very much like the initial case Berkeley uses to challenge the Lockean thought that words are significant only insofar as they signify ideas (I should note that I am using the term “Lockean” because both Berkeley and Leibniz appear to conceive of themselves as rejecting something that Locke affirmed—it may be that, on careful reading, we shouldn’t think that Locke’s views rule out the sort of cases Leibniz is enumerating here). Berkeley’s case example is the use of chips or counters while playing card games. The counters stand for pounds and shillings even if we do not keep the ideas of pounds and shillings in mind while playing. Further, it is easy to read a similar view about the utility of reasoning with symbols instead of ideas in Hume’s discussion of role of numerals in our complex mathematical reasonings. While it is worth noting that Berkeley goes on to offer a much more radical rejection of the necessity of ideational signification for meaningful terms (as I have discussed before), it is quite interesting that Leibniz, Berkeley, and Hume all seems to recognize some potential for value (and some potential for error) in this sort of blind thought.
This also means that they each face the challenge of offering a basis for separating the useful/productive cases of blind thought from the harmful/error-producing cases. Given the context of the discussion in the New Essays, it is plausible to think that the problem cases (for Leibniz) are those in which the presence of the ideas signified by the terms would have motivational relevance. I am not, however, a Leibniz scholar, and don’t know if there are other texts which speak to his views on blind thought that would be worth investigating alongside the passages from the New Essays.
Have you ever read Turing’s 1937 paper “On Computable Numbers, With an Application to the Entscheidungsproblem”? This is the paper in which he introduced the idea of the Turing Machine, which you’ve probably heard of. I bring it up because Turing essentially formalizes a concept fairly closely related, I think, to that of blind thought, giving express rules to govern some minimal version of “mechanized” (or algorithmic) thought that, he proves, is ultimately equivalent to any other sufficiently complex model for algorithmic processes. (One immediate result of this is that it’s impossible to build a computer that is capable of things that Turing’s hypothetical machines, which he conceived 10 years before the ENIAC, were not capable of.) One of Turing’s premises (in support of which he appeals to intuition) is that in any such algorithmic process, only a finite number of mental states are used. To those who are inclined not to believe this, he asks them to consider someone working on some algorithmic calculations who then takes a break, or is replaced by another calculator; to show where in the calculations he is and what must be done next, he can leave some finite set of symbols (words or mathematical notation) on a piece of paper, and he should never need an infinite variety of such symbols or an infinite space in which to write them, so the total number of variations on this place-holding note must be finite, and thus, since the note may be taken to represent his state of mind at the moment he writes it, only a finite number of states of mind are possible.
It is worth noting that Gödel, apparently, rejected this “finite states of mind” hypothesis. He wrote a paper about some of the ways in which he disagreed philosophically with Turing’s paper, but I haven’t read it yet.
See the Appendix to this online essay:
“The passages where the expressions “blind thought” or “blind thoughts” appear, in chronological order, are:
De arte combinatoria (1666); Ger. Ph. IV, p. 35.
Commentatiuncula de Judice controversiarum (1669-1671); Ak., VI R., II B, p. 481.
Accessio ad Arithmeticam infinitorum, (Leibniz to Jean Gallois, fine 1672); Ak. II R, I B, p. 228.
Meditationes de Cognizione, Veritate et Ideis (1684); Ger. Ph. IV, p. 423.
Termini sempliciores (about 1680-1684); Grua, p. 543.
The expression “deaf thought” or “deaf thoughts” appear in the following places:
In a letter to Princess Sophia in 1697; Ger. Ph. VII, p. 555;
In Essays of Teodicea, second part, at 311and in the index edited by Leibniz in the same work, Ger. Ph. VI, p. 301;
In New essays on human intellect in the following passages:
Book II, cap. XXI, § 35-37 e 63.
Book II, cap. XXIX, § 11-12.
Book III, cap. I, § 1.
Book III, cap. II, § 2.
Book IV, cap. VI, § 2.”
Gaukroger has done some nice work on blind thought and the calculus in Leibniz.
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