David Hume - Of Personal Identity

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A Treatise of Human Nature (1739)

Book I: Of the understandingPart IV: Of the sceptical and other systems of philosophy

Section VI: Of Personal Identity

by

DAVID HUME

Paragraph numbering was not included in the originaltext and has been added for ease of reference.1. There are some philosophers, who imagine we areevery moment intimately conscious of what we call ourSELF; that we feel its existence and its continuance inexistence; and are certain, beyond the evidence of ademonstration, both of its perfect identity andsimplicity. The strongest sensation, the most violentpassion, say they, instead of distracting us from thisview, only fix it the more intensely, and make usconsider their influence on

self

either by their pain orpleasure. To attempt a farther proof of this were toweaken its evidence; since no proof can be deriv'd fromany fact, of which we are so intimately conscious; nor isthere any thing, of which we can be certain, if we doubtof this.2. Unluckily all these positive assertions are contrary tothat very experience, which is pleaded for them, norhave we any idea of

self

, after the manner it is hereexplain'd. For from what impression cou'd this idea bederiv'd? This question 'tis impossible to answer withouta manifest contradiction and absurdity; and yet 'tis aquestion, which must necessarily be answer'd, if wewou'd have the idea of self pass for clear and intelligible.It must be some one impression, that gives rise to everyreal idea. But self or person is not any one impression,but that to which our several impressions and ideas aresuppos'd to have a reference. If any impression givesrise to the idea of self, that impression must continueinvariably the same, thro' the whole course of our lives;since self is suppos'd to exist after that manner. Butthere is no impression constant and invariable. Pain andpleasure, grief and joy, passions and sensations succeedeach other, and never all exist at the same time. Itcannot, therefore, be from any of these impressions, orfrom any other, that the idea of self is deriv'd; andconsequently there is no such idea.3. But farther, what must become of all our particularperceptions upon this hypothesis? All these aredifferent, and distinguishable, and separable from eachother, and may be separately consider'd, and may existseparately, and have no need of any thing to supporttheir existence. After what manner, therefore, do theybelong to self; and how are they connected with it? Formy part, when I enter most intimately into what Icall

myself

, I always stumble on some particularperception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, loveor hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch

myself

atany time without a perception, and never can observeany thing but the perception. When my perceptions areremov'd for any time, as by sound sleep; so long am Iinsensible of

myself

, and may truly be said not to exist.And were all my perceptions remov'd by death, andcou'd I neither think, nor feel, nor see, nor love, norhate after the dissolution of my body, I shou'd beentirely annihilated, nor do I conceive what is fartherrequisite to make me a perfect non-entity. If any one,upon serious and unprejudic'd reflection thinks he has adifferent notion of

himself

, I must confess I can reasonno longer with him. All I can allow him is, that he may bein the right as well as I, and that we are essentiallydifferent in this particular. He may, perhaps, perceivesomething simple and continu'd, which he calls

himself

;tho' I am certain there is no such principle in me.4. But setting aside some metaphysicians of this kind, Imay venture to affirm of the rest of mankind, that theyare nothing but a bundle or collection of differentperceptions, which succeed each other with aninconceivable rapidity, and are in a perpetual flux andmovement. Our eyes cannot turn in their socketswithout varying our perceptions. Our thought is stillmore variable than our sight; and all our other sensesand faculties contribute to this change; nor is there anysingle power of the soul, which remains unalterably thesame, perhaps for one moment. The mind is a kind of theatre, where several perceptions successively maketheir appearance; pass, re-pass, glide away, and minglein an infinite variety of postures and situations. There isproperly no

simplicity

in it at one time, nor

identity

indifferent; whatever natural propension we may have toimagine that simplicity and identity. The comparison of the theatre must not mislead us. They are the successiveperceptions only, that constitute the mind; nor have wethe most distant notion of the place, where thesescenes are represented, or of the materials, of which itis compos'd.5. What then gives us so great a propension to ascribean identity to these successive perceptions, and to

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suppose ourselves possest of an invariable anduninterrupted existence thro' the whole course of ourlives? In order to answer this question, we mustdistinguish betwixt personal identity, as it regards ourthought or imagination, and as it regards our passions orthe concern we take in ourselves. The first is our presentsubject; and to explain it perfectly we must take thematter pretty deep, and account for that identity, whichwe attribute to plants and animals; there being a greatanalogy betwixt it, and the identity of a self or person.6. We have a distinct idea of an object, that remainsinvariable and uninterrupted thro' a suppos'd variationof time; and this idea we call thatof

identity

or

sameness

. We have also a distinct idea of several different objects existing in succession, andconnected together by a close relation; and this to anaccurate view affords as perfect a notion of

diversity

, asif there was no manner of relation among the objects.But tho' these two ideas of identity, and a succession of related objects be in themselves perfectly distinct, andeven contrary, yet 'tis certain, that in our common wayof thinking they are generally confounded with eachother. That action of the imagination, by which weconsider the uninterrupted and invariable object, andthat by which we reflect on the succession of relatedobjects, are almost the same to the feeling, nor is theremuch more effort of thought requir'd in the latter casethan in the former. The relation facilitates the transitionof the mind from one object to another, and renders itspassage as smooth as if it contemplated one continu'dobject. This resemblance is the cause of the confusionand mistake, and makes us substitute the notion of identity, instead of that of related objects. However atone instant we may consider the related succession asvariable or interrupted, we are sure the next to ascribeto it a perfect identity, and regard it as enviable anduninterrupted. Our propensity to this mistake is so greatfrom the resemblance above-mention'd, that we fallinto it before we are aware; and tho' we incessantlycorrect ourselves by reflection, and return to a moreaccurate method of thinking, yet we cannot long sustainour philosophy, or take off this biass from theimagination. Our last resource is to yield to it, and boldlyassert that these different related objects are in effectthe same, however interrupted and variable. In order to justify to ourselves this absurdity, we often feign somenew and unintelligible principle, that connects theobjects together, and prevents their interruption orvariation. Thus we feign the continu'd existence of theperceptions of our senses, to remove the interruption:and run into the notion of a

soul

, and

self

,and

substance

, to disguise the variation. But we mayfarther observe, that where we do not give rise to sucha fiction, our propension to confound identity withrelation is so great, that we are apt toimagine [1] something unknown and mysterious, connecting the parts, beside their relation; and this Itake to be the case with regard to the identity weascribe to plants and vegetables. And even when thisdoes not take place, we still feel a propensity toconfound these ideas, tho' we are not able fully tosatisfy ourselves in that particular, nor find any thinginvariable and uninterrupted to justify our notion of identity.7. Thus the controversy concerning identity is notmerely a dispute of words. For when we attributeidentity, in an improper sense, to variable or interruptedobjects, our mistake is not confin'd to the expression,but is commonly attended with a fiction, either of something invariable and uninterrupted, or of something mysterious and inexplicable, or at least witha propensity to such fictions. What will suffice to provethis hypothesis to the satisfaction of every fair enquirer,is to shew from daily experience and observation, thatthe objects, which are variable or interrupted, and yetare suppos'd to continue the same, are such only asconsist of a succession of parts, connected together byresemblance, contiguity, or causation. For as such asuccession answers evidently to our notion of diversity,it can only be by mistake we ascribe to it an identity;and as the relation of parts, which leads us into thismistake, is really nothing but a quality, which producesan association of ideas, and an easy transition of theimagination from one to another, it can only be fromthe resemblance, which this act of the mind bears tothat, by which we contemplate one continu'd object,that the error arises. Our chief business, then, must beto prove, that all objects, to which we ascribe identity,without observing their invariableness anduninterruptedness, are such as consist of a succession of related objects.8. In order to this, suppose any mass of matter, of whichthe parts are contiguous and connected, to be plac'dbefore us; 'tis plain we must attribute a perfect identityto this mass, provided all the parts continueuninterruptedly and invariably the same, whatevermotion or change of place we may observe either in thewhole or in any of the parts. But supposing somevery

small

or

inconsiderable

part to be added to themass, or subtracted from it; tho' this absolutely destroysthe identity of the whole, strictly speaking; yet as weseldom think so accurately, we scruple not to pronouncea mass of matter the same, where we find so trivial analteration. The passage of the thought from the object

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before the change to the object after it, is so smoothand easy, that we scarce perceive the transition, and areapt to imagine, that 'tis nothing but a continu'd surveyof the same object.9. There is a very remarkable circumstance, that attendsthis experiment; which is, that tho' the change of anyconsiderable part in a mass of matter destroys theidentity of the whole, let we must measure thegreatness of the part, not absolutely, but byits

proportion

to the whole. The addition or diminutionof a mountain wou'd not be sufficient to produce adiversity in a planet: tho' the change of a very fewinches wou'd be able to destroy the identity of somebodies. 'Twill be impossible to account for this, but byreflecting that objects operate upon the mind, andbreak or interrupt the continuity of its actions notaccording to their real greatness, but according to theirproportion to each other: And therefore, since thisinterruption makes an object cease to appear the same,it must be the uninterrupted progress o the thought,which constitutes the imperfect identity.10. This may be confirm'd by another phenomenon. Achange in any considerable part of a body destroys itsidentity; but 'tis remarkable, that where the change isproduc'd

gradually

and

insensibl

y we are less apt toascribe to it the same effect. The reason can plainly beno other, than that the mind, in following the successivechanges of the body, feels an easy passage from thesurveying its condition in one moment to the viewing of it in another, and at no particular time perceives anyinterruption in its actions. From which continu'dperception, it ascribes a continu'd existence and identityto the object.11. But whatever precaution we may use in introducingthe changes gradually, and making them proportionableto the whole, 'tis certain, that where the changes are atlast observ'd to become considerable, we make ascruple of ascribing identity to such different objects.There is, however, another artifice, by which we mayinduce the imagination to advance a step farther; andthat is, by producing a reference of the parts to eachother, and a combination to some

common end

orpurpose. A ship, of which a considerable part has beenchang'd by frequent reparations, is still considered asthe same; nor does the difference of the materialshinder us from ascribing an identity to it. The commonend, in which the parts conspire, is the same under alltheir variations, and affords an easy transition of theimagination from one situation of the body to another.12. But this is still more remarkable, when we adda

sympathy

of parts to their

common end

, and supposethat they bear to each other, the reciprocal relation of cause and effect in all their actions and operations. Thisis the case with all animals and vegetables; where notonly the several parts have a reference to some generalpurpose, but also a mutual dependence on, andconnexion with each other. The effect of so strong arelation is, that tho' every one must allow, that in a veryfew years both vegetables and animals endurea

total

change, yet we still attribute identity to them,while their form, size, and substance are entirely alter'd.An oak, that grows from a small plant to a large tree, isstill the same oak; tho' there be not one particle of matter, or figure of its parts the same. An infantbecomes a man, and is sometimes fat, sometimes lean,without any change in his identity.13. We may also consider the two followingphaenomena, which are remarkable in their kind. Thefirst is, that tho' we commonly be able to distinguishpretty exactly betwixt numerical and specific identity,yet it sometimes happens, that we confound them, andin our thinking and reasoning employ the one for theother. Thus a man, who hears a noise, that is frequentlyinterrupted and renew'd, says, it is still the same noise;tho' 'tis evident the sounds have only a specific identityor resemblance, and there is nothing numerically thesame, but the cause, which produc'd them. In likemanner it may be said without breach of the proprietyof language, that such a church, which was formerly of brick, fell to ruin, and that the parish rebuilt the samechurch of free-stone, and according to modernarchitecture. Here neither the form nor materials arethe same, nor is there any thing common to the twoobjects, but their relation to the inhabitants of theparish; and yet this alone is sufficient to make usdenominate them the same. But we must observe, thatin these cases the first object is in a manner annihilatedbefore the second comes into existence; by whichmeans, we are never presented in any one point of timewith the idea of difference and multiplicity: and for thatreason are less scrupulous in calling them the same.14. Secondly, We may remark, that tho' in a successionof related objects, it be in a manner requisite, that thechange of parts be not sudden nor entire, in order topreserve the identity, yet where the objects are in theirnature changeable and inconstant, we admit of a moresudden transition, than wou'd otherwise be consistentwith that relation. Thus as the nature of a river consistsin the motion and change of parts; tho' in less than fourand twenty hours these be totally alter'd; this hinders

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