Solipsist

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Redacted

Philosophy Redacted

Professor Redacted

12 January, 2026

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Two Hands, Zero Proof: A Reflection on Chapter Two of Moore’s On Skepticism

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G.E. Moore’s “Proof of an External World” is basically philosophy’s version of a magic trick: “Behold! I have two hands; therefore, the world outside of me exists!” In chapter two of On Skepticism, Moore raises his right hand, then his left, and declares–without shame or subtlety, may I add–that this proves the existence of external objects. He is so incredibly confident that waving his hands around constitutes airtight logic that he almost deserves a standing ovation. Except, since I decided to view this topic from a solipsist perspective, I cannot applaud. Because, in my eyes, and probably a lot of others, Moore’s hands may exist. My hands certainly exist. But the external world? Suspicious at best.

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Moore assumes that the knowledge he has of his own hands–direct, tactile, undeniable–is the same as the knowledge of everyone else’s hands–indirect, inferential, and very possibly conjured by the mind to entertain the illusion of other people. The leap from “I am certain about my own hand” to “therefore, the external world in fact exists” is so bold that it deserves its own category in epistemology: wishful thinking. Moore is confident. I respect confidence. But confidence does not equal reality. Ask Yossarian from Catch-22, who knows bullets can be flying at him without meaning what Moore claims they mean.

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Here’s my take: if I were a solipsist, I’d actually have a more rigorous epistemic stance than Moore does. I know for certain that my own hand exists because I experience it. Moore knows his own hand exists, fine. But then he goes as far as  to demand that I trust his perception of everything else? No, thank you. My mind could very well just be projecting other people’s hands, their faces, their gestures– all built to mirror the template of my own bodily experiences. Moore’s proof is airtight only if you ignore the possibility that perception is creative rather than passive. And just to save you some research, spoiler: it’s not the latter.

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Moore’s central argument collapses into absurdity when you consider the difference between self-certainty and external certainty. I am absolutely certain that my hand exists. I can move it. I can look at it. Moore wants us to take that certainty and “universalize” it: if my hand exists, then the world must exist; therefore, your hands exist; therefore, everything exists. But why should I trust that my experience mirrors reality outside of my own consciousness? I’ve been in psychosis before. Who’s to say that psychosis wasn’t just a smaller one inside of a giant one, and everything I believe to be real is just a figment of my imagination? Moore assumes a literal-mindedness that is practically medieval in its naivete. I see it as him waving his hands like a preacher on Sunday morning, hoping the congregation–skeptics, philosophers, and the rest of us–will believe that his ritual counts as proof… it does not.

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I mentioned the novel Catch-22 earlier, so let’s use Yossarian’s logic: people claim the bullets are trying to kill everyone, not just me. Fine. But I am the one standing here. I experience the bullets. Their “universal explanation” doesn’t change that. Applying that to Moore: just because Moore experiences his hands does not mean the rest of the universe is experiencing anything outside of its mind. The world, if it even exists, does so entirely as my mind interprets it–or not at all. Moore’s hand-waving can not touch that reality.

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In fact, I see Moore’s “proof” as less of a refutation of skepticism and more of a polite invitation to ignore it. He wants to convince us that his “common sense” trumps centuries of epistemological caution. But I refuse to comply. Moore’s hands exist for Moore. My hands exist for me. Everything else? His hands. The classroom. The reading assignment. Even this very reflection. Could just be a figment of my imagination, humoring his overconfidence. Moore believes he is doing rigorous analytic philosophy. The way I see it, he is simply performing a hand puppet show.

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Moore says it himself, “I can know things, which I cannot prove; and among things which I certainly did know, even if (as I think) I could not prove them, were the premises of my two proofs. I should say, therefore, that those, if any, who are dissatisfied with these proofs merely on the ground that I did not know their premises, have no good reason for their dissatisfaction.” (Moore 28). He admits that he can’t prove his premises but says that he knows them anyway, and therefore critics shouldn’t complain. He’s assuming exactly what the skeptic is trying to question–that our everyday certainty counts as knowledge. He doesn’t solve skepticism: he simply ignores it. By treating “I have hands” as a known premise, he just loops the conclusion back into the premise–like proving God exists by saying, “God exists. Therefore, God exists.” And now Moore’s argument also collapses under his own first condition for what counts as proof: “1) unless the premise which I adduced as proof of the conclusion was different from the conclusion I adduced it to prove; “ (Moore 26). The skeptic’s entire challenge concerns whether what I perceive as “here is a hand” actually corresponds to a hand existing in a mind-independent world. By treating this very premise  as something already known, Moore is not proving the conclusion but presupposing it. He is violating his own standard operating procedure while insisting that he has followed it perfectly. If Moore can simply declare his premises as known without demonstrating them, then I can just as easily declare that only my hands exist and your hands are an elaborate hallucination made by my mind. If both positions refuse proof, then why is Moore’s privileged?

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Even British philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein didn’t think Moore was giving proof at all. Instead, Moore was just reminding us of something we already take for granted. “ Secondly, Wittgenstein frequently characterises Moore’s fundamental “mistake” as being to say that he “knows” such things…. Thirdly, and most importantly, Wittgenstein argues that to consider such propositions as known to be true is to misunderstand their role in our life, to think of them, as Moore does, as premises rather than as something which our way of acting shows to “stand fast” for us…” (White 320). Wittgensen stresses that “common sense” beliefs are a part of our way of life and are assumed rather than explicitly asserted. He suggests that they form an inherited background that is neither true or false, which completely derails Moore’s argument that they make a true system of common sense (White 318).

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Ultimately, Moore’s “proof” proves only one thing: Moore has hands and is incredibly confident in them. It proves nothing about the “external” world, because the external world is not guaranteed to exist outside of my mind. Skepticism is very much alive and well, and Moore’s demonstration is charming… in its audacity. Confidence, unfortunately, is not proof. Waving your hands does not magically bridge the gap between “I know” and “the world exists.” And if Yossarian were here. He would nod and duck, because bullets– or in Moore’s case, hands,–can still fly, no matter how convincing Moore looks waving at them.

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Works Cited: 

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Moore, G.E. Proof of an External World. 1939.

WHITE, Alan R. “COMMON SENSE : MOORE AND WITTGENSTEIN.” Revue Internationale de Philosophie, vol. 40, no. 158 (3), 1986, pp. 313–30. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/23946628. Accessed 12 Jan. 2026.

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I guess all roads do lead to Rome.