When you see someone reading a book you love, you remember all the reasons why you love that book. You recognise the parts of yourself that love it, and understand that if the other person loves it too, a part of you is represented in them.
1984 by Orwell is the book people lie about reading the most. But seeing someone reading it—actually reading it—is undeniable. Magritte’s easel and the painting within The Human Condition are difficult to separate from the reality of the outdoors, until you step outside and feel the earth beneath your feet.
Thinking about my favourite books led me to contemplate what makes me me, and how I can be sure that is actually me—that I’m not just looking at a painting.
René Descartes’ “I think, therefore I am,” aka "Cogito, ergo sum", aka "Je pense, donc je suis", is probably the most famous phrase in all of philosophy—and in contention for the most famous quote of all time. But what does it actually mean?
Descartes was a rationalist, which means he believed in the existence of innate knowledge—things you can know without any interaction with the external world: a priori knowledge. (In contrast to an empiricist like David Hume, who believed everything we know—or can know—comes from observation: a posteriori knowledge.)
Descartes began to wonder what sort of knowledge is a priori. So he started by assuming: if something can be doubted, let’s treat it as false.
At its most extreme, this means something like: how can you know you are a real human being and not just a brain in a vat, being fed memories and feelings? How can you be sure there aren’t scientists prodding your brain in a giant test tube, making you think you’re a real person? (Think Westworld-esque.)
So, if we assume everything is false, what is left?
Does that mean I don’t exist at all?
No. I must exist, because I’m considering whether or not I exist. Even if a scientist has deceived me completely, there must be a me to be deceived.
I am doubting, therefore I am thinking, therefore there is a me.
I may not exist as a person walking and talking in the form of a fully realised Daniel, but there is a me in some form.
I exist.
John Cottingham, an English philosopher who studied the works of Descartes, argues that there is a heavy condition placed on the Cogito: it only works in the immediate.
You exist because you are doubting whether you exist in that moment.
If you are aware that you are thinking, then you exist. But, once you establish that you exist, you can’t rely on the memory of that moment, because your memories could be false.
The modern version of the Cogito therefore goes: “I am thinking, therefore I exist.”
Now, in terms of seeing someone reading a book you love, is this helpful? Well, not particularly.
I can be sure I exist, but I can’t be sure the coffee shop exists, or the person reading the book, or even that my memories of loving the book are real.
What I can be sure of is that I exist—so even if I’m just a brain in a vat, there’s nothing I can do about it. I may as well try to enjoy my existence.
My memories—whether real or supplied to me by a scientist—tell me that a part of me lives in the book, and within those pages is a part of the person reading it across the café.
It’s worth noting that philosophers like Friedrich Nietzsche argued that a thought is not something you control – it comes “when it wants.”
In other words, your thoughts aren’t always under conscious control, so they too can be doubted. Jean-Paul Sartre claimed a better version might be something like: “I exist for myself,” which is probably more like what I’m trying to say.
Descartes, Hume, Nietzsche, Sartre, and Magritte have all tried to pin down what can be known, but it was the anonymous author of the quote that opened this passage who truly understood what it means to be human.
I could be a brain in a vat or living in a painting, but none of that affects my day-to-day life as a person.
What I know (“I” not assuming a fixed rational entity, but a construction of everything that is) is that I love books. I love when someone loves a book I love.
That is what it is to be human.
