diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/55761-8.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/55761-8.txt | 9342 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 9342 deletions
diff --git a/old/55761-8.txt b/old/55761-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 15fa19e..0000000 --- a/old/55761-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9342 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, by Rudolph Steiner - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity - A Modern Philosophy of Life Develop by Scientific Methods - -Author: Rudolph Steiner - -Translator: R. F. Alfred Hoernle - -Release Date: October 16, 2017 [EBook #55761] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILOSOPHY OF SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY *** - - - - -Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project -Gutenberg (This book was produced from scanned images of -public domain material from the Google Books project.) - - - - - - - - - THE PHILOSOPHY OF - SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY - A Modern Philosophy of Life - Developed by Scientific Methods - - - By RUDOLF STEINER - Ph.D. (Vienna) - - Being an Enlarged and Revised Edition of - "The Philosophy of Freedom," - together with the Original Thesis on - "Truth and Science" - - AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY - Professor & Mrs. R. F. ALFRED HOERNLÉ - - - G. P. Putnam's Sons - London & New York - - - - - - - - -EDITOR'S NOTE - - -The following pages are a translation of Dr. Steiner's Philosophie der -Freiheit, which was published in Germany some twenty years ago. The -edition was soon exhausted, and has never been reprinted; copies are -much sought after but very difficult to obtain. - -The popularity of Dr. Steiner's later works upon ethics, mysticism, -and kindred subjects has caused people to forget his earlier work upon -philosophy in spite of the fact that he makes frequent references -to this book and it contains the germs of which many of his present -views are the logical outcome. For the above reasons, and with the -author's sanction, I have decided to publish a translation. - -I have had the good fortune to have been able to secure as joint -translators Mrs. Hoernlé, who, after graduating in the University of -the Cape of Good Hope, continued her studies in the Universities of -Cambridge, Leipzig, Paris, and Bonn, and her husband, Mr. R. F. Alfred -Hoernlé, Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Harvard University, -U.S.A., formerly Jenkyns Exhibitioner, Balliol College, Oxford, -their thorough knowledge of philosophy and their complete command -of the German and English languages enabling them to overcome the -difficulty of finding adequate English equivalents for the terms of -German Philosophy. - -I am glad to seize this opportunity of acknowledging my indebtedness -to these two, without whom this publication could not have been -undertaken. - - -HARRY COLLISON. - -March 1916. - - - - - - - - -EDITOR'S NOTE TO SECOND EDITION - - -In 1918 Dr. Steiner published a revised edition of the Philosophie -der Freiheit. For the translation of the new passages added to, and -of the incidental changes made in, this revised edition I am indebted -to Mr. Hoernlé, now Professor of Philosophy in the Armstrong College -(Newcastle-upon-Tyne), University of Durham. - -At the author's request I have changed the title to Philosophy of -Spiritual Activity, and throughout the entire work "freedom" should -be taken to mean "spiritual activity." - -Dr. Steiner's Ph. D. Thesis on "Truth and Science," originally -published as a prelude to The Philosophy of Freedom, has, with his -consent, been translated for this edition and been added at the end -of this volume. - - -H. C. - -March 1921. - - - - - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - -PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918) XI - -THE THEORY OF FREEDOM - - I CONSCIOUS HUMAN ACTION 1 - II WHY THE DESIRE FOR KNOWLEDGE IS FUNDAMENTAL 14 - III THOUGHT AS THE INSTRUMENT OF KNOWLEDGE 24 - IV THE WORLD AS PERCEPT 48 - V OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD 73 - VI HUMAN INDIVIDUALITY 101 - VII ARE THERE LIMITS TO KNOWLEDGE? 109 - -THE REALITY OF FREEDOM - - VIII THE FACTORS OF LIFE 137 - IX THE IDEA OF FREEDOM 146 - X MONISM AND THE PHILOSOPHY OF SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY 178 - XI WORLD-PURPOSE AND LIFE-PURPOSE (THE DESTINY OF MAN) 190 - XII MORAL IMAGINATION (DARWIN AND MORALITY) 198 - XIII THE VALUE OF LIFE (OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM) 213 - XIV THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE GENUS 250 - -ULTIMATE QUESTIONS - - XV THE CONSEQUENCES OF MONISM 259 - -TRUTH AND SCIENCE - - I PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS 277 - II THE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEM OF KANT'S THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE 280 - III THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE SINCE KANT 291 - IV THE STARTING-POINTS OF THE THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE 304 - V KNOWLEDGE AND REALITY 319 - VI THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT PRESUPPOSITIONS VERSUS - FICHTE'S THEORY OF SCIENCE 329 - VII CONCLUDING REMARKS: EPISTEMOLOGICAL 347 - VIII CONCLUDING REMARKS: PRACTICAL 351 - -APPENDICES - - I ADDITION TO REVISED EDITION OF "THE PHILOSOPHY OF - FREEDOM" 1918 357 - II REVISED INTRODUCTION TO "THE PHILOSOPHY OF FREEDOM" 368 - III PREFACE TO ORIGINAL EDITION OF "TRUTH AND SCIENCE" 374 - IV INTRODUCTION TO ORIGINAL EDITION OF "TRUTH AND - SCIENCE" 381 - - - - - - - - -PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918) - - -There are two fundamental problems in the life of the human mind, -to one or other of which everything belongs that is to be discussed -in this book. One of these problems concerns the possibility of -attaining to such a view of the essential nature of man as will -serve as a support for whatever else comes into his life by way -of experience or of science, and yet is subject to the suspicion of -having no support in itself and of being liable to be driven, by doubt -and criticism, into the limbo of uncertainties. The other problem is -this: Is man, as voluntary agent, entitled to attribute freedom to -himself, or is freedom a mere illusion begotten of his inability to -recognise the threads of necessity on which his volition, like any -natural event, depends? It is no artificial tissue of theories which -provokes this question. In a certain mood it presents itself quite -naturally to the human mind. And it is easy to feel that a mind lacks -something of its full stature which has never once confronted with -the utmost seriousness of inquiry the two possibilities--freedom -or necessity. This book is intended to show that the spiritual -experiences which the second problem causes man to undergo, depend -upon the position he is able to take up towards the first problem. An -attempt will be made to prove that there is a view concerning the -essential nature of man which can support the rest of knowledge; and, -further, an attempt to point out how with this view we gain a complete -justification for the idea of free will, provided only that we have -first discovered that region of the mind in which free volition can -unfold itself. - -The view to which we here refer is one which, once gained, is -capable of becoming part and parcel of the very life of the mind -itself. The answer given to the two problems will not be of the -purely theoretical sort which, once mastered, may be carried about -as a mere piece of memory-knowledge. Such an answer would, for the -whole manner of thinking adopted in this book, be no real answer at -all. The book will not give a finished and complete answer of this -sort, but point to a field of spiritual experience in which man's -own inward spiritual activity supplies a living answer to these -questions, as often as he needs one. Whoever has once discovered the -region of the mind where these questions arise, will find precisely -in his actual acquaintance with this region all that he needs for the -solution of his two problems. With the knowledge thus acquired he may -then, as desire or fate dictate, adventure further into the breadths -and depths of this unfathomable life of ours. Thus it would appear -that there is a kind of knowledge which proves its justification and -validity by its own inner life as well as by the kinship of its own -life with the whole life of the human mind. - -This is how I conceived the contents of this book when I first wrote -it twenty-five years ago. To-day, once again, I have to set down -similar sentences if I am to characterise the leading thoughts of -my book. At the original writing I contented myself with saying no -more than was in the strictest sense connected with the fundamental -problems which I have outlined. If anyone should be astonished at -not finding in this book as yet any reference to that region of the -world of spiritual experience of which I have given an account in my -later writings, I would ask him to bear in mind that it was not my -purpose at that time to set down the results of spiritual research, -but first to lay the foundations on which such results can rest. The -Philosophy of Spiritual Activity contains no special results of -this spiritual sort, as little as it contains special results of -the natural sciences. But what it does contain is, in my judgment, -indispensable for anyone who desires a secure foundation for such -knowledge. What I have said in this book may be acceptable even to -some who, for reasons of their own, refuse to have anything to do with -the results of my researches into the Spiritual Realm. But anyone who -finds something to attract him in my inquiries into the Spiritual -Realm may well appreciate the importance of what I was here trying -to do. It is this: to show that open-minded consideration simply of -the two problems which I have indicated and which are fundamental -for all knowledge, leads to the view that man lives in the midst of -a genuine Spiritual World. The aim of this book is to demonstrate, -prior to our entry upon spiritual experience, that knowledge of the -Spiritual World is a fact. This demonstration is so conducted that it -is never necessary, in order to accept the present arguments, to cast -furtive glances at the experiences on which I have dwelt in my later -writings. All that is necessary is that the reader should be willing -and able to adapt himself to the manner of the present discussions. - -Thus it seems to me that in one sense this book occupies a -position completely independent of my writings on strictly spiritual -matters. Yet in another sense it seems to be most intimately connected -with them. These considerations have moved me now, after a lapse of -twenty-five years, to re-publish the contents of this book in the -main without essential alterations. I have only made additions of some -length to a number of chapters. The misunderstandings of my argument -with which I have met seemed to make these more detailed elaborations -necessary. Actual changes of text have been made by me only where -it seemed to me now that I had said clumsily what I meant to say a -quarter of a century ago. (Only malice could find in these changes -occasion to suggest that I have changed my fundamental conviction.) - -For many years my book has been out of print. In spite of the fact, -which is apparent from what I have just said, that my utterances -of twenty-five years ago about these problems still seem to me just -as relevant today, I hesitated a long time about the completion of -this revised edition. Again and again I have asked myself whether I -ought not, at this point or that, to define my position towards the -numerous philosophical theories which have been put forward since the -publication of the first edition. Yet my preoccupation in recent years -with researches into the purely Spiritual Realm prevented my doing as I -could have wished. However, a survey, as thorough as I could make it, -of the philosophical literature of the present day has convinced me -that such a critical discussion, alluring though it would be in itself, -would be out of place in the context of what my book has to say. All -that, from the point of view of the Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, -it seemed to me necessary to say about recent philosophical tendencies -may be found in the second volume of my Riddles of Philosophy. - - -RUDOLF STEINER. - -April 1918. - - - - - - - - -THE THEORY OF FREEDOM - - -I - -CONSCIOUS HUMAN ACTION - - -Is man free in action and thought, or is he bound by an iron -necessity? There are few questions on which so much ingenuity has -been expended. The idea of freedom has found enthusiastic supporters -and stubborn opponents in plenty. There are those who, in their -moral fervour, label anyone a man of limited intelligence who can -deny so patent a fact as freedom. Opposed to them are others who -regard it as the acme of unscientific thinking for anyone to believe -that the uniformity of natural law is broken in the sphere of human -action and thought. One and the same thing is thus proclaimed, now -as the most precious possession of humanity, now as its most fatal -illusion. Infinite subtlety has been employed to explain how human -freedom can be consistent with determinism in nature of which man, -after all, is a part. Others have been at no less pains to explain -how such a delusion as this could have arisen. That we are dealing -here with one of the most important questions for life, religion, -conduct, science, must be clear to every one whose most prominent -trait of character is not the reverse of thoroughness. It is one -of the sad signs of the superficiality of present-day thought, that -a book which attempts to develop a new faith out of the results of -recent scientific research (David Friedrich Strauss, Der alte und -neue Glaube), has nothing more to say on this question than these -words: "With the question of the freedom of the human will we are -not concerned. The alleged freedom of indifferent choice has been -recognised as an empty illusion by every philosophy worthy of the -name. The determination of the moral value of human conduct and -character remains untouched by this problem." It is not because I -consider that the book in which it occurs has any special importance -that I quote this passage, but because it seems to me to express the -only view to which the thought of the majority of our contemporaries -is able to rise in this matter. Every one who has grown beyond the -kindergarten-stage of science appears to know nowadays that freedom -cannot consist in choosing, at one's pleasure, one or other of -two possible courses of action. There is always, so we are told, -a perfectly definite reason why, out of several possible actions, -we carry out just one and no other. - -This seems quite obvious. Nevertheless, down to the present day, the -main attacks of the opponents of freedom are directed only against -freedom of choice. Even Herbert Spencer, in fact, whose doctrines are -gaining ground daily, says, "That every one is at liberty to desire or -not to desire, which is the real proposition involved in the dogma of -free will, is negatived as much by the analysis of consciousness, as by -the contents of the preceding chapters" (The Principles of Psychology, -Part IV, chap. ix, par. 219). Others, too, start from the same point -of view in combating the concept of free will. The germs of all the -relevant arguments are to be found as early as Spinoza. All that -he brought forward in clear and simple language against the idea of -freedom has since been repeated times without number, but as a rule -enveloped in the most sophisticated arguments, so that it is difficult -to recognise the straightforward train of thought which is alone in -question. Spinoza writes in a letter of October or November, 1674, -"I call a thing free which exists and acts from the pure necessity of -its nature, and I call that unfree, of which the being and action are -precisely and fixedly determined by something else. Thus, e.g., God, -though necessary, is free because he exists only through the necessity -of his own nature. Similarly, God knows himself and all else as free, -because it follows solely from the necessity of his nature that he -knows all. You see, therefore, that for me freedom consists not in -free decision, but in free necessity. - -"But let us come down to created things which are all determined -by external causes to exist and to act in a fixed and definite -manner. To perceive this more clearly, let us imagine a perfectly -simple case. A stone, for example, receives from an external cause -acting upon it a certain quantity of motion, by reason of which it -necessarily continues to move, after the impact of the external cause -has ceased. The continued motion of the stone is due to compulsion, not -to the necessity of its own nature, because it requires to be defined -by the impact of an external cause. What is true here for the stone -is true also for every other particular thing, however complicated and -many-sided it may be, namely, that everything is necessarily determined -by external causes to exist and to act in a fixed and definite manner. - -"Now, pray, assume that this stone during its motion thinks and -knows that it is striving to the best of its power to continue in -motion. This stone which is conscious only of its striving and is -by no means indifferent, will believe that it is absolutely free, -and that it continues in motion for no other reason than its own -will to continue. Now this is that human freedom which everybody -claims to possess and which consists in nothing but this, that men -are conscious of their desires, but ignorant of the causes by which -they are determined. Thus the child believes that he desires milk of -his own free will, the angry boy regards his desire for vengeance as -free, and the coward his desire for flight. Again, the drunken man -believes that he says of his own free will what, sober again, he would -fain have left unsaid, and as this prejudice is innate in all men, -it is difficult to free oneself from it. For, although experience -teaches us often enough that man least of all can temper his desires, -and that, moved by conflicting passions, he perceives the better and -pursues the worse, yet he considers himself free because there are -some things which he desires less strongly, and some desires which he -can easily inhibit through the recollection of something else which -it is often possible to recall." - -It is easy to detect the fundamental error of this view, because it -is so clearly and definitely expressed. The same necessity by which -a stone makes a definite movement as the result of an impact, is -said to compel a man to carry out an action when impelled thereto by -any cause. It is only because man is conscious of his action, that he -thinks himself to be its originator. In doing so, he overlooks the fact -that he is driven by a cause which he must obey unconditionally. The -error in this train of thought is easily brought to light. Spinoza, -and all who think like him, overlook the fact that man not only is -conscious of his action, but also may become conscious of the cause -which guides him. Anyone can see that a child is not free when he -desires milk, nor the drunken man when he says things which he later -regrets. Neither knows anything of the causes, working deep within -their organisms, which exercise irresistible control over them. But -is it justifiable to lump together actions of this kind with those -in which a man is conscious not only of his actions but also of their -causes? Are the actions of men really all of one kind? Should the act -of a soldier on the field of battle, of the scientific researcher in -his laboratory, of the statesman in the most complicated diplomatic -negotiations, be placed on the same level with that of the child -when he desires milk? It is, no doubt, true that it is best to seek -the solution of a problem where the conditions are simplest. But -lack of ability to see distinctions has before now caused endless -confusion. There is, after all, a profound difference between -knowing the motive of my action and not knowing it. At first sight -this seems a self-evident truth. And yet the opponents of freedom -never ask themselves whether a motive of action which I recognise -and understand, is to be regarded as compulsory for me in the same -sense as the organic process which causes the child to cry for milk. - -Eduard von Hartmann, in his Phänomenologie des Sittlichen Bewusstseins -(p. 451), asserts that the human will depends on two chief factors, -the motives and the character. If one regards men as all alike, or at -any rate the differences between them as negligible, then their will -appears as determined from without, viz., by the circumstances with -which they come in contact. But if one bears in mind that men adopt an -idea as the motive of their conduct, only if their character is such -that this idea arouses a desire in them, then men appear as determined -from within and not from without. Now, because an idea, given to us -from without, must first in accordance with our characters be adopted -as a motive, men believe that they are free, i.e., independent of -external influences. The truth, however, according to Eduard von -Hartmann, is that "even though we must first adopt an idea as a -motive, we do so not arbitrarily, but according to the disposition -of our characters, that is, we are anything but free." Here again -the difference between motives, which I allow to influence me only -after I have consciously made them my own, and those which I follow -without any clear knowledge of them, is absolutely ignored. - -This leads us straight to the standpoint from which the subject will -be treated here. Have we any right to consider the question of the -freedom of the will by itself at all? And if not, with what other -question must it necessarily be connected? - -If there is a difference between conscious and unconscious motives of -action, then the action in which the former issue should be judged -differently from the action which springs from blind impulse. Hence -our first question will concern this difference, and on the result -of this inquiry will depend what attitude we ought to take up towards -the question of freedom proper. - -What does it mean to have knowledge of the motives of one's -actions? Too little attention has been paid to this question, because, -unfortunately, man who is an indivisible whole has always been torn -asunder by us. The agent has been divorced from the knower, whilst he -who matters more than everything else, viz., the man who acts because -he knows, has been utterly overlooked. - -It is said that man is free when he is controlled only by his reason, -and not by his animal passions. Or, again, that to be free means to -be able to determine one's life and action by purposes and deliberate -decisions. - -Nothing is gained by assertions of this sort. For the question is just -whether reason, purposes, and decisions exercise the same kind of -compulsion over a man as his animal passions. If, without my doing, -a rational decision occurs in me with the same necessity with which -hunger and thirst happen to me, then I must needs obey it, and my -freedom is an illusion. - -Another form of expression runs: to be free means, not that we can will -what we will, but that we can do what we will. This thought has been -expressed with great clearness by the poet-philosopher Robert Hamerling -in his Atomistik des Willens. "Man can, it is true, do what he wills, -but he cannot will what he wills, because his will is determined by -motives! He cannot will what he wills? Let us consider these phrases -more closely. Have they any intelligible meaning? Does freedom of will, -then, mean being able to will without ground, without motive? What -does willing mean if not to have grounds for doing, or striving to do, -this rather than that? To will anything without ground or motive would -mean to will something without willing it. The concept of motive is -indissolubly bound up with that of will. Without the determining -motive the will is an empty faculty; it is the motive which makes -it active and real. It is, therefore, quite true that the human will -is not 'free,' inasmuch as its direction is always determined by the -strongest motive. But, on the other hand, it must be admitted that it -is absurd to speak, in contrast with this 'unfreedom,' of a conceivable -'freedom' of the will, which would consist in being able to will what -one does not will" (Atomistik des Willens, p. 213 ff.). - -Here, again, only motives in general are mentioned, without taking into -account the difference between unconscious and conscious motives. If -a motive affects me, and I am compelled to act on it because it proves -to be the "strongest" of its kind, then the idea of freedom ceases to -have any meaning. How should it matter to me whether I can do a thing -or not, if I am forced by the motive to do it? The primary question -is, not whether I can do a thing or not when impelled by a motive, -but whether the only motives are such as impel me with absolute -necessity. If I must will something, then I may well be absolutely -indifferent as to whether I can also do it. And if, through my -character, or through circumstances prevailing in my environment, -a motive is forced on me which to my thinking is unreasonable, then -I should even have to be glad if I could not do what I will. - -The question is, not whether I can carry out a decision once made, -but how I come to make the decision. - -What distinguishes man from all other organic beings is his rational -thought. Activity is common to him with other organisms. Nothing is -gained by seeking analogies in the animal world to clear up the concept -of freedom as applied to the actions of human beings. Modern science -loves these analogies. When scientists have succeeded in finding among -animals something similar to human behaviour, they believe they have -touched on the most important question of the science of man. To what -misunderstandings this view leads is seen, for example, in the book -Die Illusion der Willensfreiheit, by P. Ree, 1885, where, on Page 5, -the following remark on freedom appears: "It is easy to explain why -the movement of a stone seems to us necessary, while the volition -of a donkey does not. The causes which set the stone in motion are -external and visible, while the causes which determine the donkey's -volition are internal and invisible. Between us and the place of their -activity there is the skull cap of the ass.... The causal nexus is -not visible and is therefore thought to be non-existent. The volition, -it is explained, is, indeed, the cause of the donkey's turning round, -but is itself unconditioned; it is an absolute beginning." Here again -human actions in which there is a consciousness of the motives are -simply ignored, for Ree declares, "that between us and the sphere of -their activity there is the skull cap of the ass." As these words -show, it has not so much as dawned on Ree that there are actions, -not indeed of the ass, but of human beings, in which the motive, -become conscious, lies between us and the action. Ree demonstrates -his blindness once again a few pages further on, when he says, -"We do not perceive the causes by which our will is determined, -hence we think it is not causally determined at all." - -But enough of examples which prove that many argue against freedom -without knowing in the least what freedom is. - -That an action of which the agent does not know why he performs -it, cannot be free goes without saying. But what of the freedom -of an action about the motives of which we reflect? This leads us -to the question of the origin and meaning of thought. For without -the recognition of the activity of mind which is called thought, -it is impossible to understand what is meant either by knowledge of -something or by action. When we know what thought in general means, -it will be easier to see clearly the role which thought plays in human -action. As Hegel rightly says, "It is thought which turns the soul, -common to us and animals, into spirit." Hence it is thought which we -may expect to give to human action its characteristic stamp. - -I do not mean to imply that all our actions spring only from the sober -deliberations of our reason. I am very far from calling only those -actions "human" in the highest sense, which proceed from abstract -judgments. But as soon as our conduct rises above the sphere of the -satisfaction of purely animal desires, our motives are always shaped by -thoughts. Love, pity, and patriotism are motives of action which cannot -be analysed away into cold concepts of the understanding. It is said -that here the heart, the soul, hold sway. This is no doubt true. But -the heart and the soul create no motives. They presuppose them. Pity -enters my heart when the thought of a person who arouses pity had -appeared in my consciousness. The way to the heart is through the -head. Love is no exception. Whenever it is not merely the expression -of bare sexual instinct, it depends on the thoughts we form of the -loved one. And the more we idealise the loved one in our thoughts, -the more blessed is our love. Here, too, thought is the father of -feeling. It is said that love makes us blind to the failings of the -loved one. But the opposite view can be taken, namely that it is -precisely for the good points that love opens the eyes. Many pass -by these good points without notice. One, however, perceives them, -and just because he does, love awakens in his soul. What else has he -done except perceive what hundreds have failed to see? Love is not -theirs, because they lack the perception. - -From whatever point we regard the subject, it becomes more and more -clear that the question of the nature of human action presupposes -that of the origin of thought. I shall, therefore, turn next to -this question. - - - - - - - - -II - -WHY THE DESIRE FOR KNOWLEDGE IS FUNDAMENTAL - - - Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust, - Die eine will sich von der andern trennen; - Die eine hält, in derber Liebeslust, - Sich an die Welt mit klammernden Organen; - Die andre hebt gewaltsam sich vom Dust - Zu den Gefilden hoher Ahnen. [1] - - Faust I, 1112-1117. - - -In these words Goethe expresses a trait which is deeply ingrained -in human nature. Man is not a self-contained unity. He demands ever -more than the world, of itself, offers him. Nature has endowed -us with needs; among them are some the satisfaction of which she -leaves to our own activity. However abundant the gifts which we -have received, still more abundant are our desires. We seem born -to dissatisfaction. And our desire for knowledge is but a special -instance of this unsatisfied striving. Suppose we look twice at a -tree. The first time we see its branches at rest, the second time -in motion. We are not satisfied with this observation. Why, we ask, -does the tree appear to us now at rest, then in motion? Every glance -at nature evokes in us a multitude of questions. Every phenomenon -we meet presents a new problem to be solved. Every experience is to -us a riddle. We observe that from the egg there emerges a creature -like the mother animal, and we ask for the reason of the likeness. We -observe a living being grow and develop to a determinate degree of -perfection, and we seek the conditions of this experience. Nowhere -are we satisfied with the facts which nature spreads out before our -senses. Everywhere we seek what we call the explanation of these facts. - -The something more which we seek in things, over and above what is -immediately given to us in them, splits our whole being into two -parts. We become conscious of our opposition to the world. We oppose -ourselves to the world as independent beings. The universe has for -us two opposite poles: Self and World. - -We erect this barrier between ourselves and the world as soon as -consciousness is first kindled in us. But we never cease to feel that, -in spite of all, we belong to the world, that there is a connecting -link between it and us, and that we are beings within, and not without, -the universe. - -This feeling makes us strive to bridge over this opposition, -and ultimately the whole spiritual striving of mankind is nothing -but the bridging of this opposition. The history of our spiritual -life is a continuous seeking after union between ourselves and the -world. Religion, Art, and Science follow, one and all, this goal. The -religious man seeks in the revelation, which God grants him, the -solution of the world problem, which his Self, dissatisfied with -the world of mere phenomena, sets him as a task. The artist seeks to -embody in his material the ideas which are his Self, that he may thus -reconcile the spirit which lives within him and the outer world. He, -too, feels dissatisfied with the world of mere appearances, and -seeks to mould into it that something more which his Self supplies -and which transcends appearances. The thinker searches for the laws -of phenomena. He strives to master by thought what he experiences -by observation. Only when we have transformed the world-content -into our thought-content do we recapture the connection which we -had ourselves broken off. We shall see later that this goal can be -reached only if we penetrate much more deeply than is often done into -the nature of the scientist's problem. The whole situation, as I have -here stated it, meets us, on the stage of history, in the conflict -between the one-world theory, or Monism, and the two-world theory, -or Dualism. Dualism pays attention only to the separation between -the Self and the World, which the consciousness of man has brought -about. All its efforts consist in a vain struggle to reconcile these -opposites, which it calls now Mind and Matter, now Subject and Object, -now Thought and Appearance. The Dualist feels that there must be -a bridge between the two worlds, but is not able to find it. In so -far as man is aware of himself as "I," he cannot but put down this -"I" in thought on the side of Spirit; and in opposing to this "I" -the world, he is bound to reckon on the world's side the realm of -percepts given to the senses, i.e., the Material World. In doing so, -man assigns a position to himself within this very antithesis of -Spirit and Matter. He is the more compelled to do so because his own -body belongs to the Material World. Thus the "I," or Ego, belongs as a -part to the realm of Spirit; the material objects and processes which -are perceived by the senses belong to the "World." All the riddles -which belong to Spirit and Matter, man must inevitably rediscover in -the fundamental riddle of his own nature. Monism pays attention only -to the unity and tries either to deny or to slur over the opposites, -present though they are. Neither of these two points of view can -satisfy us, for they do not do justice to the facts. The Dualist -sees in Mind (Self) and Matter (World) two essentially different -entities, and cannot therefore understand how they can interact with -one another. How should Mind be aware of what goes on in Matter, -seeing that the essential nature of Matter is quite alien to Mind? Or -how in these circumstances should Mind act upon Matter, so as to -translate its intentions into actions? The most absurd hypotheses -have been propounded to answer these questions. However, up to the -present the Monists are not in a much better position. They have tried -three different ways of meeting the difficulty. Either they deny Mind -and become Materialists; or they deny Matter in order to seek their -salvation as Spiritualists; or they assert that, even in the simplest -entities in the world, Mind and Matter are indissolubly bound together, -so that there is no need to marvel at the appearance in man of these -two modes of existence, seeing that they are never found apart. - -Materialism can never offer a satisfactory explanation of the -world. For every attempt at an explanation must begin with the -formation of thoughts about the phenomena of the world. Materialism, -thus, begins with the thought of Matter or material processes. But, -in doing so, it is ipso facto confronted by two different sets -of facts, viz., the material world and the thoughts about it. The -Materialist seeks to make these latter intelligible by regarding them -as purely material processes. He believes that thinking takes place -in the brain, much in the same way that digestion takes place in the -animal organs. Just as he ascribes mechanical, chemical, and organic -processes to Nature, so he credits her in certain circumstances -with the capacity to think. He overlooks that, in doing so, he is -merely shifting the problem from one place to another. Instead of -to himself he ascribes the power of thought to Matter. And thus he -is back again at his starting-point. How does Matter come to think -of its own nature? Why is it not simply satisfied with itself and -content to accept its own existence? The Materialist has turned his -attention away from the definite subject, his own self, and occupies -himself with an indefinite shadowy somewhat. And here the old problem -meets him again. The materialistic theory cannot solve the problem; -it can only shift it to another place. - -What of the Spiritualistic theory? The pure Spiritualist denies to -Matter all independent existence and regards it merely as a product -of Spirit. But when he tries to apply this theory to the solution -of the riddle of his own human nature, he finds himself caught in a -tight place. Over against the "I," or Ego, which can be ranged on the -side of Spirit, there stands directly the world of the senses. No -spiritual approach to it seems open. It has to be perceived and -experienced by the Ego with the help of material processes. Such -material processes the Ego does not discover in itself, so long as -it regards its own nature as exclusively spiritual. From all that -it achieves by its own spiritual effort, the sensible world is ever -excluded. It seems as if the Ego had to concede that the world would -be a closed book to it, unless it could establish a non-spiritual -relation to the world. Similarly, when it comes to acting, we have -to translate our purposes into realities with the help of material -things and forces. We are, therefore, dependent on the outer world. The -most extreme Spiritualist, or, if you prefer it, Idealist, is Johann -Gottlieb Fichte. He attempts to deduce the whole edifice of the world -from the "Ego." What he has actually accomplished is a magnificent -thought-picture of the world, without any empirical content. As little -as it is possible for the Materialist to argue the Mind away, just -as little is it possible for the Idealist to do without the outer -world of Matter. - -When man directs his theoretical reflection upon the Ego, he perceives, -in the first instance, only the work of the Ego in the conceptual -elaboration of the world of ideas. Hence a philosophy the direction -of which is spiritualistic, may feel tempted, in view of man's own -essential nature, to acknowledge nothing of spirit except this world -of ideas. In this way Spiritualism becomes one-sided Idealism. Instead -of going on to penetrate through the world of ideas to the spiritual -world, idealism identifies the spiritual world with the world of -ideas itself. As a result, it is compelled to remain fixed with its -world-view in the circle of the activity of the Ego, as if it were -bewitched. - -A curious variant of Idealism is to be found in the theory -which F. A. Lange has put forward in his widely read History of -Materialism. He holds that the Materialists are quite right in -declaring all phenomena, including our thoughts, to be the product -of purely material processes, but, in turn, Matter and its processes -are for him themselves the product of our thinking. "The senses give -us only the effects of things, not true copies, much less the things -themselves. But among these mere effects we must include the senses -themselves together with the brain and the molecular vibrations which -we assume to go on there." That is, our thinking is produced by the -material processes, and these by our thinking. Lange's philosophy -is thus nothing more than the philosophical analogon of the story -of honest Baron Münchhausen, who holds himself up in the air by his -own pigtail. - -The third form of Monism is that which finds even in the simplest real -(the atom) the union of both Matter and Mind. But nothing is gained by -this either, except that the question, the origin of which is really -in our consciousness, is shifted to another place. How comes it that -the simple real manifests itself in a two-fold manner, if it is an -indivisible unity? - -Against all these theories we must urge the fact that we meet with the -basal and fundamental opposition first in our own consciousness. It -is we ourselves who break away from the bosom of Nature and contrast -ourselves as Self with the World. Goethe has given classic expression -to this in his essay Nature. "Living in the midst of her (Nature) -we are strangers to her. Ceaselessly she speaks to us, yet betrays -none of her secrets." But Goethe knows the reverse side too: "Mankind -is all in her, and she in all mankind." - -However true it may be that we have estranged ourselves from Nature, -it is none the less true that we feel we are in her and belong to -her. It can be only her own life which pulses also in us. - -We must find the way back to her again. A simple reflection may -point this way out to us. We have, it is true, torn ourselves away -from Nature, but we must none the less have carried away something of -her in our own selves. This quality of Nature in us we must seek out, -and then we shall discover our connection with her once more. Dualism -neglects to do this. It considers the human mind as a spiritual -entity utterly alien to Nature and attempts somehow to hitch it on to -Nature. No wonder that it cannot find the coupling link. We can find -Nature outside of us only if we have first learnt to know her within -us. The Natural within us must be our guide to her. This marks out -our path of inquiry. We shall attempt no speculations concerning the -interaction of Mind and Matter. We shall rather probe into the depths -of our own being, to find there those elements which we saved in our -flight from Nature. - -The examination of our own being must bring the solution of the -problem. We must reach a point where we can say, "This is no longer -merely 'I,' this is something which is more than 'I.'" - -I am well aware that many who have read thus far will not consider -my discussion in keeping with "the present state of science." To such -criticism I can reply only that I have so far not been concerned with -any scientific results, but simply with the description of what every -one of us experiences in his own consciousness. That a few phrases -have slipped in about attempts to reconcile Mind and the World has -been due solely to the desire to elucidate the actual facts. I have -therefore made no attempt to give to the expressions "Self," "Mind," -"World," "Nature," the precise meaning which they usually bear in -Psychology and Philosophy. The ordinary consciousness ignores the sharp -distinctions of the sciences, and so far my purpose has been solely -to record the facts of everyday experience. I am concerned, not with -the way in which science, so far, has interpreted consciousness, but -with the way in which we experience it in every moment of our lives. - - - - - - - - -III - -THOUGHT AS THE INSTRUMENT OF KNOWLEDGE - - -When I observe how a billiard ball, when struck, communicates its -motion to another, I remain entirely without influence on the process -before me. The direction and velocity of the motion of the second ball -is determined by the direction and velocity of the first. As long as -I remain a mere spectator, I can say nothing about the motion of the -second ball until after it has happened. It is quite different when -I begin to reflect on the content of my observations. The purpose of -my reflection is to construct concepts of the process. I connect the -concept of an elastic ball with certain other concepts of mechanics, -and consider the special circumstances which obtain in the instance -in question. I try, in other words, to add to the process which takes -place without my interference, a second process which takes place in -the conceptual sphere. This latter process is dependent on me. This -is shown by the fact that I can rest content with the observation, -and renounce all search for concepts if I have no need of them. If, -therefore, this need is present, then I am not content until I -have established a definite connection among the concepts, ball, -elasticity, motion, impact, velocity, etc., so that they apply to the -observed process in a definite way. As surely as the occurrence of -the observed process is independent of me, so surely is the occurrence -of the conceptual process dependent on me. - -We shall have to consider later whether this activity of mine -really proceeds from my own independent being, or whether those -modern physiologists are right who say that we cannot think -as we will, but that we must think exactly as the thoughts and -thought-connections determine, which happen to be in our minds at any -given moment. (Cp. Ziehen, Leitfaden der Physiologischen Psychologie, -Jena, 1893, p. 171.) For the present we wish merely to establish -the fact that we constantly feel obliged to seek for concepts and -connections of concepts, which stand in definite relation to the -objects and processes which are given independently of us. Whether -this activity is really ours, or whether we are determined to it by -an unalterable necessity, is a question which we need not decide at -present. What is unquestionable is that the activity appears, in the -first instance, to be ours. We know for certain that concepts are not -given together with the objects to which they correspond. My being -the agent in the conceptual process may be an illusion; but there -is no doubt that to immediate observation I appear to be active. Our -present question is, what do we gain by supplementing a process with -a conceptual counterpart? - -There is a far-reaching difference between the ways in which, for -me, the parts of a process are related to one another before, and -after, the discovery of the corresponding concepts. Mere observation -can trace the parts of a given process as they occur, but their -connection remains obscure without the help of concepts. I observe the -first billiard ball move towards the second in a certain direction -and with a certain velocity. What will happen after the impact I -cannot tell in advance. I can once more only watch it happen with -my eyes. Suppose someone obstructs my view of the field where the -process is happening, at the moment when the impact occurs, then, -as mere spectator, I remain ignorant of what goes on. The situation -is very different, if prior to the obstructing of my view I have -discovered the concepts corresponding to the nexus of events. In -that case I can say what occurs, even when I am no longer able to -observe. There is nothing in a merely observed process or object -to show its relation to other processes or objects. This relation -becomes manifest only when observation is combined with thought. - -Observation and thought are the two points of departure for all -the spiritual striving of man, in so far as he is conscious of such -striving. The workings of common sense, as well as the most complicated -scientific researches, rest on these two fundamental pillars of our -minds. Philosophers have started from various ultimate antitheses, Idea -and Reality, Subject and Object, Appearance and Thing-in-itself, Ego -and Non-Ego, Idea and Will, Concept and Matter, Force and Substance, -the Conscious and the Unconscious. It is, however, easy to show that -all these antitheses are subsequent to that between Observation and -Thought, this being for man the most important. - -Whatever principle we choose to lay down, we must either prove that -somewhere we have observed it, or we must enunciate it in the form of -a clear concept which can be re-thought by any other thinker. Every -philosopher who sets out to discuss his fundamental principles, must -express them in conceptual form and thus use thought. He therefore -indirectly admits that his activity presupposes thought. We leave -open here the question whether thought or something else is the -chief factor in the development of the world. But it is at any rate -clear that the philosopher can gain no knowledge of this development -without thought. In the occurrence of phenomena thought may play a -secondary part, but it is quite certain that it plays a chief part -in the construction of a theory about them. - -As regards observation, our need of it is due to our organisation. Our -thought about a horse and the object "horse" are two things which for -us have separate existences. The object is accessible to us only by -means of observation. As little as we can construct a concept of a -horse by mere staring at the animal, just as little are we able by -mere thought to produce the corresponding object. - -In time observation actually precedes thought. For we become familiar -with thought itself in the first instance by observation. It was -essentially a description of an observation when, at the beginning -of this chapter, we gave an account of how thought is kindled by an -objective process and transcends the merely given. Whatever enters -the circle of our experiences becomes an object of apprehension -to us first through observation. All contents of sensations, all -perceptions, intuitions, feelings, acts of will, dreams and fancies, -images, concepts, ideas, all illusions and hallucinations, are given -to us through observation. - -But thought as an object of observation differs essentially from all -other objects. The observation of a table, or a tree, occurs in me -as soon as those objects appear within the horizon of my field of -consciousness. Yet I do not, at the same time, observe my thought -about these things. I observe the table, but I carry on a process of -thought about the table without at the same moment observing this -thought-process. I must first take up a standpoint outside of my -own activity, if I want to observe my thought about the table, as -well as the table. Whereas the observation of things and processes, -and the thinking about them, are everyday occurrences making up the -continuous current of my life, the observation of the thought-process -itself is an exceptional attitude to adopt. This fact must be taken -into account, when we come to determine the relations of thought -as an object of observation to all other objects. We must be quite -clear about the fact that, in observing the thought-processes, we are -applying to them a method which is our normal attitude in the study -of all other objects in the world, but which in the ordinary course -of that study is usually not applied to thought itself. - -Someone might object that what I have said about thinking applies -equally to feeling and to all other mental activities. Thus it is said -that when, e.g., I have a feeling of pleasure, the feeling is kindled -by the object, but it is this object I observe, not the feeling of -pleasure. This objection, however, is based on an error. Pleasure does -not stand at all in the same relation to its object as the concept -constructed by thought. I am conscious, in the most positive way, that -the concept of a thing is formed through my activity; whereas a feeling -of pleasure is produced in me by an object in a way similar to that in -which, e.g., a change is caused in an object by a stone which falls on -it. For observation, a pleasure is given in exactly the same way as the -event which causes it. The same is not true of concepts. I can ask why -an event arouses in me a feeling of pleasure. But I certainly cannot -ask why an occurrence causes in me a certain number of concepts. The -question would be simply meaningless. In thinking about an occurrence, -I am not concerned with it as an effect on me. I learn nothing about -myself from knowing the concepts which correspond to the observed -change caused in a pane of glass by a stone thrown against it. But I do -learn something about myself when I know the feeling which a certain -occurrence arouses in me. When I say of an object which I perceive, -"this is a rose," I say absolutely nothing about myself; but when I -say of the same thing that "it causes a feeling of pleasure in me," -I characterise not only the rose, but also myself in my relation to -the rose. - -There can, therefore, be no question of putting thought and feeling on -a level as objects of observation. And the same could easily be shown -of other activities of the human mind. Unlike thought, they must be -classed with any other observed objects or events. The peculiar nature -of thought lies just in this, that it is an activity which is directed -solely on the observed object and not on the thinking subject. This -is apparent even from the way in which we express our thoughts about -an object, as distinct from our feelings or acts of will. When I -see an object and recognise it as a table, I do not as a rule say, -"I am thinking of a table," but, "this is a table." On the other -hand, I do say, "I am pleased with the table." In the former case, -I am not at all interested in stating that I have entered into a -relation with the table; whereas, in the second case, it is just -this relation which matters. In saying, "I am thinking of a table," -I adopt the exceptional point of view characterised above, in which -something is made the object of observation which is always present in -our mental activity, without being itself normally an observed object. - -The peculiar nature of thought consists just in this, that the thinker -forgets his thinking while actually engaged in it. It is not thinking -which occupies his attention, but rather the object of thought which -he observes. - -The first point, then, to notice about thought is that it is the -unobserved element in our ordinary mental life. - -The reason why we do not notice the thinking which goes on in our -ordinary mental life is no other than this, that it is our own -activity. Whatever I do not myself produce appears in my field of -consciousness as an object; I contrast it with myself as something the -existence of which is independent of me. It forces itself upon me. I -must accept it as the presupposition of my thinking. As long as I think -about the object, I am absorbed in it, my attention is turned on it. To -be thus absorbed in the object is just to contemplate it by thought. I -attend, not to my activity, but to its object. In other words, whilst -I am thinking I pay no heed to my thinking which is of my own making, -but only to the object of my thinking which is not of my making. - -I am, moreover, in exactly the same position when I adopt the -exceptional point of view and think of my own thought-processes. I can -never observe my present thought, I can only make my past experiences -of thought-processes subsequently the objects of fresh thoughts. If -I wanted to watch my present thought, I should have to split myself -into two persons, one to think, the other to observe this thinking. But -this is impossible. I can only accomplish it in two separate acts. The -observed thought-processes are never those in which I am actually -engaged but others. Whether, for this purpose, I make observations -on my own former thoughts, or follow the thought-processes of another -person, or finally, as in the example of the motions of the billiard -balls, assume an imaginary thought-process, is immaterial. - -There are two things which are incompatible with one another: -productive activity and the theoretical contemplation of that -activity. This is recognised even in the First Book of Moses. It -represents God as creating the world in the first six days, and only -after its completion is any contemplation of the world possible: -"And God saw everything that he had made and, behold, it was very -good." The same applies to our thinking. It must be there first, -if we would observe it. - -The reason why it is impossible to observe the thought-process -in its actual occurrence at any given moment, is the same as that -which makes it possible for us to know it more immediately and more -intimately than any other process in the world. Just because it is -our own creation do we know the characteristic features of its course, -the manner in which the process, in detail, takes place. What in the -other spheres of observation we can discover only indirectly, viz., -the relevant objective nexus and the relations of the individual -objects, that is known to us immediately in the case of thought. I -do not know off-hand why, for perception, thunder follows lightning, -but I know immediately, from the content of the two concepts, why my -thought connects the concept of thunder with that of lightning. It -does not matter for my argument whether my concepts of thunder and -lightning are correct. The connection between the concepts I have is -clear to me, and that through the very concepts themselves. - -This transparent clearness in the observation of our thought-processes -is quite independent of our knowledge of the physiological basis of -thought. I am speaking here of thought in the sense in which it is the -object of our observation of our own mental activity. For this purpose -it is quite irrelevant how one material process in my brain causes or -influences another, whilst I am carrying on a process of thought. What -I observe, in studying a thought-process, is, not what process in -my brain connects the concept of thunder with that of lightning, -but what is my reason for bringing these two concepts into a definite -relation. Introspection shows that, in linking thought with thought, -I am guided by their content, not by the material processes in the -brain. This remark would be quite superfluous in a less materialistic -age than ours. To-day, however, when there are people who believe that, -when we know what matter is, we shall know also how it thinks, it is -necessary to affirm the possibility of speaking of thought without -trespassing on the domain of brain physiology. Many people to-day find -it difficult to grasp the concept of thought in its purity. Anyone who -challenges the account of thought which I have given here, by quoting -Cabanis' statement that "the brain secretes thoughts as the liver does -gall or the spittle-glands spittle, etc." simply does not know of what -I am talking. He attempts to discover thought by the same method of -mere observation which we apply to the other objects that make up the -world. But he cannot find it in this way, because, as I have shown, -it eludes just this ordinary observation. Whoever cannot transcend -Materialism lacks the ability to throw himself into the exceptional -attitude I have described, in which he becomes conscious of what in -all other mental activity remains unconscious. It is as useless to -discuss thought with one who is not willing to adopt this attitude, as -it would be to discuss colour with a blind man. Let him not imagine, -however, that we regard physiological processes as thought. He fails -to explain thought, because he is not even aware that it is there. - -For every one, however, who has the ability to observe thought, and -with good will every normal man has this ability, this observation -is the most important he can make. For he observes something which -he himself produces. He is not confronted by what is to begin with -a strange object, but by his own activity. He knows how that which -he observes has come to be. He perceives clearly its connections and -relations. He gains a firm point from which he can, with well-founded -hopes, seek an explanation of the other phenomena of the world. - -The feeling that he had found such a firm foundation, induced the -father of modern philosophy, Descartes, to base the whole of human -knowledge on the principle, "I think, therefore I am." All other -things, all other processes, are independent of me. Whether they be -truth, or illusion, or dream, I know not. There is only one thing -of which I am absolutely certain, for I myself am the author of its -indubitable existence; and that is my thought. Whatever other origin -it may have in addition, whether it come from God or from elsewhere, -of one thing I am sure, that it exists in the sense that I myself -produce it. Descartes had, to begin with, no justification for reading -any other meaning into his principle. All he had a right to assert -was that, in apprehending myself as thinking, I apprehend myself, -within the world-system, in that activity which is most uniquely -characteristic of me. What the added words "therefore I am" are -intended to mean has been much debated. They can have a meaning on -one condition only. The simplest assertion I can make of a thing is, -that it is, that it exists. What kind of existence, in detail, it has, -can in no case be determined on the spot, as soon as the thing enters -within the horizon of my experience. Each object must be studied in -its relations to others, before we can determine the sense in which we -can speak of its existence. An experienced process may be a complex -of percepts, or it may be a dream, an hallucination, etc. In short, -I cannot say in what sense it exists. I can never read off the kind of -existence from the process itself, for I can discover it only when I -consider the process in its relation to other things. But this, again, -yields me no knowledge beyond just its relation to other things. My -inquiry touches firm ground only when I find an object, the reason -of the existence of which I can gather from itself. Such an object -I am myself in so far as I think, for I qualify my existence by the -determinate and self-contained content of my thought-activity. From -here I can go on to ask whether other things exist in the same or in -some other sense. - -When thought is made an object of observation, something which -usually escapes our attention is added to the other observed -contents of the world. But the usual manner of observation, such as -is employed also for other objects, is in no way altered. We add -to the number of objects of observation, but not to the number of -methods. When we are observing other things, there enters among the -world-processes--among which I now include observation--one process -which is overlooked. There is present something different from every -other kind of process, something which is not taken into account. But -when I make an object of my own thinking, there is no such neglected -element present. For what lurks now in the background is just thought -itself over again. The object of observation is qualitatively identical -with the activity directed upon it. This is another characteristic -feature of thought-processes. When we make them objects of observation, -we are not compelled to do so with the help of something qualitatively -different, but can remain within the realm of thought. - -When I weave a tissue of thoughts round an independently given object, -I transcend my observation, and the question then arises, What right -have I to do this? Why do I not passively let the object impress itself -on me? How is it possible for my thought to be relevantly related to -the object? These are questions which every one must put to himself -who reflects on his own thought-processes. But all these questions -lapse when we think about thought itself. We then add nothing to our -thought that is foreign to it, and therefore have no need to justify -any such addition. - -Schelling says: "To know Nature means to create Nature." If we take -these words of the daring philosopher of Nature literally, we shall -have to renounce for ever all hope of gaining knowledge of Nature. For -Nature after all exists, and if we have to create it over again, we -must know the principles according to which it has originated in the -first instance. We should have to borrow from Nature as it exists -the conditions of existence for the Nature which we are about to -create. But this borrowing, which would have to precede the creating, -would be a knowing of Nature, and would be this even if after the -borrowing no creation at all were attempted. The only kind of Nature -which it would be possible to create without previous knowledge, -would be a Nature different from the existing one. - -What is impossible with Nature, viz., creation prior to knowledge, that -we accomplish in the act of thought. Were we to refrain from thinking -until we had first gained knowledge of it, we should never think at -all. We must resolutely think straight ahead, and then afterwards by -introspective analysis gain knowledge of our own processes. Thus we -ourselves create the thought-processes which we then make objects of -observation. The existence of all other objects is provided for us -without any activity on our part. - -My contention that we must think before we can make thought an -object of knowledge, might easily be countered by the apparently -equally valid contention that we cannot wait with digesting until we -have first observed the process of digestion. This objection would -be similar to that brought by Pascal against Descartes, when he -asserted we might also say "I walk, therefore I am." Certainly I must -digest resolutely and not wait until I have studied the physiological -process of digestion. But I could only compare this with the analysis -of thought if, after digestion, I set myself not to analyse it by -thought, but to eat and digest it. It is not without reason that, -while digestion cannot become the object of digestion, thought can -very well become the object of thought. - -This then is indisputable, that in thinking we have got hold of one -bit of the world-process which requires our presence if anything is -to happen. And that is the very point that matters. The very reason -why things seem so puzzling is just that I play no part in their -production. They are simply given to me, whereas I know how thought -is produced. Hence there can be no more fundamental starting-point -than thought from which to regard all world-processes. - -I should like still to mention a widely current error which prevails -with regard to thought. It is often said that thought, in its real -nature, is never experienced. The thought-processes which connect -our perceptions with one another, and weave about them a network -of concepts, are not at all the same as those which our analysis -afterwards extracts from the objects of perception, in order to make -them the object of study. What we have unconsciously woven into things -is, so we are told, something widely different from what subsequent -analysis recovers out of them. - -Those who hold this view do not see that it is impossible to escape -from thought. I cannot get outside thought when I want to observe -it. We should never forget that the distinction between thought which -goes on unconsciously and thought which is consciously analysed, is a -purely external one and irrelevant to our discussion. I do not in any -way alter a thing by making it an object of thought. I can well imagine -that a being with quite different sense-organs, and with a differently -constructed intelligence, would have a very different idea of a horse -from mine, but I cannot think that my own thought becomes different -because I make it an object of knowledge. I myself observe my own -processes. We are not talking here of how my thought-processes appear -to an intelligence different from mine, but how they appear to me. In -any case, the idea which another mind forms of my thought cannot be -truer than the one which I form myself. Only if the thought-processes -were not my own, but the activity of a being quite different from me, -could I maintain that, notwithstanding my forming a definite idea of -these thought-processes, their real nature was beyond my comprehension. - -So far, there is not the slightest reason why I should regard my -thought from any other point of view than my own. I contemplate the -rest of the world by means of thought. How should I make of my thought -an exception? - -I think I have given sufficient reasons for making thought the -starting-point for my theory of the world. When Archimedes had -discovered the lever, he thought he could lift the whole cosmos -out of its hinges, if only he could find a point of support for his -instrument. He needed a point which was self-supporting. In thought -we have a principle which is self-subsisting. Let us try, therefore, -to understand the world starting with thought as our basis. Thought -can be grasped by thought. The question is whether by thought we can -also grasp something other than thought. - -I have so far spoken of thought without taking any account of its -vehicle, the human consciousness. Most present-day philosophers -would object that, before there can be thought, there must be -consciousness. Hence we ought to start, not from thought, but from -consciousness. There is no thought, they say without consciousness. In -reply I would urge that, in order to clear up the relation between -thought and consciousness, I must think about it. Hence I presuppose -thought. One might, it is true, retort that, though a philosopher who -wishes to understand consciousness, naturally makes use of thought, -and so far presupposes it, in the ordinary course of life thought -arises within consciousness and therefore presupposes that. Were this -answer given to the world-creator, when he was about to create thought, -it would, without doubt, be to the point. Thought cannot, of course, -come into being before consciousness. The philosopher, however, is not -concerned with the creation of the world, but with the understanding -of it. Hence he is in search of the starting-point, not for creation, -but for the understanding of the world. It seems to me very strange -that philosophers are reproached for troubling themselves, above all, -about the correctness of their principles, instead of turning straight -to the objects which they seek to understand. The world-creator had -above all to know how to find a vehicle for thought; the philosopher -must seek a firm basis for the understanding of what is given. What -does it help us to start with consciousness and make it an object of -thought, if we have not first inquired how far it is possible at all -to gain any knowledge of things by thought? - -We must first consider thought quite impartially without relation to a -thinking subject or to an object of thought. For subject and object are -both concepts constructed by thought. There is no denying that thought -must be understood before anything else can be understood. Whoever -denies this, fails to realise that man is not the first link in the -chain of creation but the last. Hence, in order to explain the world -by means of concepts, we cannot start from the elements of existence -which came first in time, but we must begin with those which are -nearest and most intimately connected with us. We cannot, with a leap, -transport ourselves to the beginning of the world, in order to begin -our analysis there, but we must start from the present and see whether -we cannot advance from the later to the earlier. As long as Geology -fabled fantastic revolutions to account for the present state of the -earth, it groped in darkness. It was only when it began to study the -processes at present at work on the earth, and from these to argue back -to the past, that it gained a firm foundation. As long as Philosophy -assumes all sorts of principles, such as atom, motion, matter, will, -the unconscious, it will hang in the air. The philosopher can reach -his goal only if he adopts that which is last in time as first in -his theory. This absolutely last in the world-process is thought. - -There are people who say it is impossible to ascertain with certainty -whether thought is right or wrong, and that, so far, our starting-point -is a doubtful one. It would be just as intelligent to raise doubts as -to whether a tree is in itself right or wrong. Thought is a fact, and -it is meaningless to speak of the truth or falsity of a fact. I can, -at most, be in doubt as to whether thought is rightly employed, just as -I can doubt whether a certain tree supplies wood adapted to the making -of this or that useful object. It is just the purpose of this book -to show how far the application of thought to the world is right or -wrong. I can understand anyone doubting whether, by means of thought, -we can gain any knowledge of the world, but it is unintelligible to -me how anyone can doubt that thought in itself is right. - - - - -ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -In the preceding discussion I have pointed out the importance of the -difference between thinking and all other activities of mind. This -difference is a fact which is patent to genuinely unprejudiced -observation. An observer who does not try to see the facts without -preconception will be tempted to bring against my argumentation such -objections as these: When I think about a rose, there is involved -nothing more than a relation of my "I" to the rose, just as when I -feel the beauty of the rose. There subsists a relation between "I" -and object in thinking precisely as there does, e.g., in feeling -or perceiving. Those who urge this objection fail to bear in mind -that it is only in the activity of thinking that the "I," or Ego, -knows itself to be identical, right into all the ramifications of the -activity, with that which does the thinking. Of no other activity of -mind can we say the same. For example, in a feeling of pleasure it is -easy for a really careful observer to discriminate between the extent -to which the Ego knows itself to be identical with what is active in -the feeling, and the extent to which there is something passive in -the Ego, so that the pleasure is merely something which happens to -the Ego. The same applies to the other mental activities. The main -thing is not to confuse the "having of images" with the elaboration -of ideas by thinking. Images may appear in the mind dream-wise, -like vague intimations. But this is not thinking. True, someone -might now urge: If this is what you mean by "thinking," then your -thinking contains willing, and you have to do, not with mere thinking, -but with the will to think. However, this would justify us only in -saying: Genuine thinking must always be willed thinking. But this -is quite irrelevant to the characterisation of thinking as this has -been given in the preceding discussion. Let it be granted that the -nature of thinking necessarily implies its being willed, the point -which matters is that nothing is willed which, in being carried out, -fails to appear to the Ego as an activity completely its own and -under its own supervision. Indeed, we must say that thinking appears -to the observer as through and through willed, precisely because of -its nature as above defined. If we genuinely try to master all the -facts which are relevant to a judgment about the nature of thinking, -we cannot fail to observe that, as a mental activity, thinking has -the unique character which is here in question. - -A reader of whose powers the author of this book has a very high -opinion, has objected that it is impossible to speak about thinking -as we are here doing, because the supposed observation of active -thinking is nothing but an illusion. In reality, what is observed is -only the results of an unconscious activity which lies at the basis -of thinking. It is only because, and just because, this unconscious -activity escapes observation, that the deceptive appearance of -the self-existence of the observed thinking arises, just as when -an illumination by means of a rapid succession of electric sparks -makes us believe that we see a movement. This objection, likewise, -rests solely on an inaccurate view of the facts. The objection ignores -that it is the Ego itself which, identical with the thinking, observes -from within its own activity. The Ego would have to stand outside the -thinking in order to suffer the sort of deception which is caused -by an illumination with a rapid succession of electric sparks. One -might say rather that to indulge in such an analogy is to deceive -oneself wilfully, just as if someone, seeing a moving light, were -obstinately to affirm that it is being freshly lit by an unknown -hand at every point where it appears. No, whoever is bent on seeing -in thought anything else than an activity produced--and observable -by--the Ego has first to shut his eyes to the plain facts that are -there for the looking, in order then to invent a hypothetical activity -as the basis of thinking. If he does not wilfully blind himself, he -must recognise that all these "hypothetical additions" to thinking -take him away from its real nature. Unprejudiced observation shows -that nothing is to be counted as belonging to the nature of thinking -except what is found in thinking itself. It is impossible to discover -the cause of thinking by going outside the realm of thought. - - - - - - - - -IV - -THE WORLD AS PERCEPT - - -The products of thinking are concepts and ideas. What a concept is -cannot be expressed in words. Words can do no more than draw our -attention to the fact that we have concepts. When someone perceives -a tree, the perception acts as a stimulus for thought. Thus an ideal -element is added to the perceived object, and the perceiver regards -the object and its ideal complement as belonging together. When -the object disappears from the field of his perception, the -ideal counterpart alone remains. This latter is the concept of -the object. The wider the range of our experience, the larger -becomes the number of our concepts. Moreover, concepts are not by -any means found in isolation one from the other. They combine to -form an ordered and systematic whole. The concept "organism," e.g., -combines with those of "development according to law," "growth," and -others. Other concepts based on particular objects fuse completely -with one another. All concepts formed from particular lions fuse in -the universal concept "lion." In this way, all the separate concepts -combine to form a closed, conceptual system within which each has its -special place. Ideas do not differ qualitatively from concepts. They -are but fuller, more saturated, more comprehensive concepts. I attach -special importance to the necessity of bearing in mind, here, that I -make thought my starting-point, and not concepts and ideas which are -first gained by means of thought. These latter presuppose thought. My -remarks regarding the self-dependent, self-sufficient character of -thought cannot, therefore, be simply transferred to concepts. (I make -special mention of this, because it is here that I differ from Hegel, -who regards the concept as something primary and ultimate.) - -Concepts cannot be derived from perception. This is apparent from the -fact that, as man grows up, he slowly and gradually builds up the -concepts corresponding to the objects which surround him. Concepts -are added to perception. - -A philosopher, widely read at the present day (Herbert Spencer), -describes the mental process which we perform upon perception as -follows: "If, when walking through the fields some day in September, -you hear a rustle a few yards in advance, and on observing the -ditch-side where it occurs, see the herbage agitated, you will -probably turn towards the spot to learn by what this sound and -motion are produced. As you approach there flutters into the ditch a -partridge; on seeing which your curiosity is satisfied--you have what -you call an explanation of the appearances. The explanation, mark, -amounts to this--that whereas throughout life you have had countless -experiences of disturbance among small stationary bodies, accompanying -the movement of other bodies among them, and have generalised the -relation between such disturbances and such movements, you consider -this particular disturbance explained on finding it to present an -instance of the like relation" (First Principles, Part I, par. 23). A -closer analysis leads to a very different description from that here -given. When I hear a noise, my first demand is for the concept which -fits this percept. Without this concept, the noise is to me a mere -noise. Whoever does not reflect further, hears just the noise and -is satisfied with that. But my thought makes it clear to me that the -noise is to be regarded as an effect. Thus it is only when I combine -the concept of effect with the percept of a noise that I am led to go -beyond the particular percept and seek for its cause. The concept of -"effect" calls up that of "cause," and my next step is to look for -the agent, which I find, say, in a partridge. But these concepts, -cause and effect, can never be gained through mere perception, however -many instances we bring under review. Perception evokes thought, and -it is this which shows me how to link separate experiences together. - -If one demands of a "strictly objective science" that it should take -its data from perception alone, one must demand also that it abandon -all thought. For thought, by its very nature, transcends the objects -of perception. - -It is time now to pass from thought to the thinker. For it is -through the thinker that thought and perception are combined. The -human mind is the stage on which concept and percept meet and are -linked to one another. In saying this, we already characterise this -(human) consciousness. It mediates between thought and perception. In -perception the object appears as given, in thought the mind seems to -itself to be active. It regards the thing as object and itself as the -thinking subject. When thought is directed upon the perceptual world -we have consciousness of objects; when it is directed upon itself we -have self-consciousness. Human consciousness must, of necessity, be -at the same time self-consciousness, because it is a consciousness -which thinks. For, when thought contemplates its own activity it -makes an object for study of its own essential nature, it makes an -object of itself as subject. - -It is important to note here that it is only by means of thinking -that I am able to determine myself as subject and contrast myself -with objects. Therefore thinking must never be regarded as a merely -subjective activity. Thinking transcends the distinction of subject -and object. It produces these two concepts just as it produces all -others. When, therefore, I, as thinking subject, refer a concept to -an object, we must not regard this reference as something purely -subjective. It is not the subject, but thought, which makes the -reference. The subject does not think because it is a subject, -rather it conceives itself to be a subject because it can think. The -activity of consciousness, in so far as it thinks, is thus not -merely subjective. Rather it is neither subjective nor objective; -it transcends both these concepts. I ought never to say that I, as -an individual subject, think, but rather that I, as subject, exist -myself by the grace of thought. Thought thus takes me out of myself -and relates me to objects. At the same time it separates me from them, -inasmuch as I, as subject, am set over against the objects. - -It is just this which constitutes the double nature of man. His -thought embraces himself and the rest of the world. But by this -same act of thought he determines himself also as an individual, -in contrast with the objective world. - -We must next ask ourselves how the other element, which we have so far -simply called the perceptual object and which comes, in consciousness, -into contact with thought, enters into thought at all? - -In order to answer this question, we must eliminate from the field -of consciousness everything which has been imported by thought. For, -at any moment, the content of consciousness is always shot through -with concepts in the most various ways. - -Let us assume that a being with fully developed human intelligence -originated out of nothing and confronted the world. All that it -there perceived before its thought began to act would be the pure -content of perception. The world so far would appear to this being as -a mere chaotic aggregate of sense-data, colours, sounds, sensations -of pressure, of warmth, of taste, of smell, and, lastly, feelings of -pleasure and pain. This mass constitutes the world of pure unthinking -perception. Over against it stands thought, ready to begin its activity -as soon as it can find a point of attack. Experience shows that the -opportunity is not long in coming. Thought is able to draw threads -from one sense-datum to another. It brings definite concepts to bear -on these data and thus establishes a relation between them. We have -seen above how a noise which we hear is connected with another content -by our identifying the first as the effect of the second. - -If now we recollect that the activity of thought is on no account to -be considered as merely subjective, then we shall not be tempted to -believe that the relations thus established by thought have merely -subjective validity. - -Our next task is to discover by means of thought what relation the -above-mentioned immediate sense-data have to the conscious subject. - -The ambiguity of current speech makes it advisable for me to come -to an agreement with my readers concerning the meaning of a word -which I shall have to employ in what follows. I shall apply the name -"percepts" to the immediate sense-data enumerated above, in so far -as the subject consciously apprehends them. It is, then, not the -process of perception, but the object of this process which I call the -"percept." - -I reject the term "sensation," because this has a definite meaning -in Physiology which is narrower than that of my term "percept." I -can speak of feeling as a percept, but not as a sensation in the -physiological sense of the term. Before I can have cognisance of my -feeling it must become a percept for me. The manner in which, through -observation, we gain knowledge of our thought-processes is such that -when we first begin to notice thought, it too may be called a percept. - -The unreflective man regards his percepts, such as they appear to -his immediate apprehension, as things having a wholly independent -existence. When he sees a tree he believes that it stands in the form -which he sees, with the colours of all its parts, etc., there on the -spot towards which his gaze is directed. When the same man sees the -sun in the morning appear as a disc on the horizon, and follows the -course of this disc, he believes that the phenomenon exists and occurs -(by itself) exactly as he perceives it. To this belief he clings until -he meets with further percepts which contradict his former ones. The -child who has as yet had no experience of distance grasps at the moon, -and does not correct its first impression as to the real distance -until a second percept contradicts the first. Every extension of the -circle of my percepts compels me to correct my picture of the world. We -see this in everyday life, as well as in the mental development of -mankind. The picture which the ancients made for themselves of the -relation of the earth to the sun and other heavenly bodies, had to -be replaced by another when Copernicus found that it contradicted -percepts which in those early days were unknown. A man who had been -born blind said, when operated on by Dr. Franz, that the idea of -the size of objects which he had formed before his operation by his -sense of touch was a very different one. He had to correct his tactual -percepts by his visual percepts. - -How is it that we are compelled to make these continual corrections -in our observations? - -A single reflection supplies the answer to this question. When I stand -at one end of an avenue, the trees at the other end, away from me, -seem smaller and nearer together than those where I stand. But the -scene which I perceive changes when I change the place from which -I am looking. The exact form in which it presents itself to me is, -therefore, dependent on a condition which inheres, not in the object, -but in me, the percipient. It is all the same to the avenue where I -stand. But the picture of it which I receive depends essentially on -my standpoint. In the same way, it makes no difference to the sun and -the planetary system that human beings happen to perceive them from -the earth; but the picture of the heavens which human beings have is -determined by the fact that they inhabit the earth. This dependence -of our percepts on our points of observation is the easiest kind of -dependence to understand. The matter becomes more difficult when we -realise further that our perceptual world is dependent on our bodily -and mental organisation. The physicist teaches us that within the -space in which we hear a sound there are vibrations of the air, and -that there are vibrations also in the particles of the body which we -regard as the cause of the sound. These vibrations are perceived as -sounds only if we have normally constructed ears. Without them the -whole world would be for us for ever silent. Again, the physiologist -teaches us that there are men who perceive nothing of the wonderful -display of colours which surrounds us. In their world there are only -degrees of light and dark. Others are blind only to one colour, -e.g., red. Their world lacks this colour tone, and hence it is -actually a different one from that of the average man. I should -like to call the dependence of my perceptual world on my point of -observation "mathematical," and its dependence on my organisation -"qualitative." The former determines proportions of size and mutual -distances of my percepts, the latter their quality. The fact that I -see a red surface as red--this qualitative determination--depends on -the structure of my eye. - -My percepts, then, are in the first instance subjective. The -recognition of the subjective character of our percepts may easily lead -us to doubt whether there is any objective basis for them at all. When -we know that a percept, e.g., that of a red colour or of a certain -tone, is not possible without a specific structure of our organism, -we may easily be led to believe that it has no being at all apart from -our subjective organisation, that it has no kind of existence apart -from the act of perceiving of which it is the object. The classical -representative of this theory is George Berkeley, who held that from -the moment we realise the importance of a subject for perception, -we are no longer able to believe in the existence of a world apart -from a conscious mind. "Some truths there are so near and obvious to -the mind that man need only open his eyes to see them. Such I take -this important one to be, viz., that all the choir of heaven and the -furniture of the earth--in a word, all those bodies which compose the -mighty frame of the world--have not any subsistence without a mind; -that their being is to be perceived or known; that consequently, so -long as they are not actually perceived by me, or do not exist in my -mind or that of any other created spirit, they must either have no -existence at all or else subsist in the mind of some Eternal Spirit" -(Berkeley, Of the Principles of Human Knowledge, Part I, Section 6). - -On this view, when we take away the act of perceiving, nothing remains -of the percept. There is no colour when none is seen, no sound when -none is heard. Extension, form, and motion exist as little as colour -and sound apart from the act of perception. We never perceive bare -extension or shape. These are always joined with colour or some -other quality, which are undoubtedly dependent on the subject. If -these latter disappear when we cease to perceive, the former, being -connected with them, must disappear likewise. - -If it is urged that, even though figure, colour, sound, etc., -have no existence except in the act of perception, yet there must -be things which exist apart from perception and which are similar -to the percepts in our minds, then the view we have mentioned would -answer, that a colour can be similar only to a colour, a figure to -a figure. Our percepts can be similar only to our percepts and to -nothing else. Even what we call a thing is nothing but a collection -of percepts which are connected in a definite way. If I strip a table -of its shape, extension, colour, etc.--in short, of all that is merely -my percepts--then nothing remains over. If we follow this view to its -logical conclusion, we are led to the assertion that the objects of -my perceptions exist only through me, and only in as far as, and as -long as, I perceive them. They disappear with my perceiving and have -no meaning apart from it. Apart from my percepts I know of no objects -and cannot know of any. - -No objection can be made to this assertion as long as we take into -account merely the general fact that the percept is determined in part -by the organisation of the subject. The matter would be far otherwise -if we were in a position to say what part exactly is played by our -perceiving in the occurrence of a percept. We should know then what -happens to a percept whilst it is being perceived, and we should also -be able to determine what character it must possess before it comes -to be perceived. - -This leads us to turn our attention from the object of a perception -to the subject of it. I am aware not only of other things but -also of myself. The content of my perception of myself consists, -in the first instance, in that I am something stable in contrast -with the ever coming and going flux of percepts. The awareness of -myself accompanies in my consciousness the awareness of all other -percepts. When I am absorbed in the perception of a given object I am, -for the time being, aware only of this object. Next I become aware -also of myself. I am then conscious, not only of the object, but also -of my Self as opposed to and observing the object. I do not merely -see a tree, I know also that it is I who see it. I know, moreover, -that some process takes place in me when I observe a tree. When the -tree disappears from my field of vision, an after-effect of this -process remains, viz., an image of the tree. This image has become -associated with my Self during my perception. My Self has become -enriched; to its content a new element has been added. This element -I call my idea of the tree. I should never have occasion to talk of -ideas, were I not aware of my own Self. Percepts would come and go; I -should let them slip by. It is only because I am aware of my Self, and -observe that with each perception the content of the Self is changed, -that I am compelled to connect the perception of the object with the -changes in the content of my Self, and to speak of having an idea. - -That I have ideas is in the same sense matter of observation to me -as that other objects have colour, sound, etc. I am now also able to -distinguish these other objects, which stand over against me, by the -name of the outer world, whereas the contents of my perception of my -Self form my inner world. The failure to recognise the true relation -between idea and object has led to the greatest misunderstandings -in modern philosophy. The fact that I perceive a change in myself, -that my Self undergoes a modification, has been thrust into the -foreground, whilst the object which causes these modifications is -altogether ignored. In consequence it has been said that we perceive, -not objects, but only our ideas. I know, so it is said, nothing of -the table in itself, which is the object of my perception, but only -of the changes which occur within me when I perceive a table. This -theory should not be confused with the Berkeleyan theory mentioned -above. Berkeley maintains the subjective nature of my perceptual -contents, but he does not say that I can know only my own ideas. He -limits my knowledge to my ideas because, on his view, there are -no objects other than ideas. What I perceive as a table no longer -exists, according to Berkeley, when I cease to look at it. This is -why Berkeley holds that our percepts are created directly by the -omnipotence of God. I see a table because God causes this percept in -me. For Berkeley, therefore, nothing is real except God and human -spirits. What we call the "world" exists only in spirits. What the -naïve man calls the outer world, or material nature, is for Berkeley -non-existent. This theory is confronted by the now predominant Kantian -view which limits our knowledge of the world to our ideas, not because -of any conviction that nothing beyond these ideas exists, but because -it holds that we are so organised that we can have knowledge only of -the changes within our own selves, not of the things-in-themselves -which are the causes of these changes. This view concludes from the -fact that I know only my own ideas, not that there is no reality -independent of them, but only that the subject cannot have direct -knowledge of such reality. The mind can merely "through the medium of -its subjective thoughts imagine it, conceive it, know it, or perhaps -also fail to know it" (O. Liebmann, Zur Analysis der Wirklichkeit, -p. 28). Kantians believe that their principles are absolutely certain, -indeed immediately evident, without any proof. "The most fundamental -principle which the philosopher must begin by grasping clearly, -consists in the recognition that our knowledge, in the first instance, -does not extend beyond our ideas. Our ideas are all that we immediately -have and experience, and just because we have immediate experience of -them the most radical doubt cannot rob us of this knowledge. On the -other hand, the knowledge which transcends my ideas--taking ideas -here in the widest possible sense, so as to include all psychical -processes--is not proof against doubt. Hence, at the very beginning -of all philosophy we must explicitly set down all knowledge which -transcends ideas as open to doubt." These are the opening sentences -of Volkelt's book on Kant's Theory of Knowledge. What is here put -forward as an immediate and self-evident truth is, in reality, -the conclusion of a piece of argument which runs as follows. Naïve -common sense believes that things, just as we perceive them, exist -also outside our minds. Physics, Physiology, and Psychology, however, -teach us that our percepts are dependent on our organisation, and that -therefore we cannot know anything about external objects except what -our organisation transmits to us. The objects which we perceive are -thus modifications of our organisation, not things-in-themselves. This -line of thought has, in fact, been characterised by Ed. von Hartmann -as the one which leads necessarily to the conviction that we can -have direct knowledge only of our own ideas (cp. his Grundproblem -der Erkenntnistheorie, pp. 16-40). Because outside our organisms we -find vibrations of particles and of air, which are perceived by us -as sounds, it is concluded that what we call sound is nothing more -than a subjective reaction of our organisms to these motions in the -external world. Similarly, colour and heat are inferred to be merely -modifications of our organisms. And, further, these two kinds of -percepts are held to be the effects of processes in the external -world which are utterly different from what we experience as heat -or as colour. When these processes stimulate the nerves in the skin -of my body, I perceive heat; when they stimulate the optical nerve -I perceive light and colour. Light, colour, and heat, then, are the -reactions of my sensory nerves to external stimuli. Similarly, the -sense of touch reveals to me, not the objects of the outer world, -but only states of my own body. The physicist holds that bodies are -composed of infinitely small particles called molecules, and that -these molecules are not in direct contact with one another, but have -definite intervals between them. Between them, therefore, is empty -space. Across this space they act on one another by attraction and -repulsion. If I put my hand on a body, the molecules of my hand by no -means touch those of the body directly, but there remains a certain -distance between body and hand, and what I experience as the body's -resistance is nothing but the effect of the force of repulsion which -its molecules exert on my hand. I am absolutely external to the body -and experience only its effects on my organism. - -The theory of the so-called Specific Nervous Energy, which has been -advanced by J. Müller, supplements these speculations. It asserts -that each sense has the peculiarity that it reacts to all external -stimuli in only one definite way. If the optic nerve is stimulated, -light sensations result, irrespective of whether the stimulation is -due to what we call light, or to mechanical pressure, or an electrical -current. On the other hand, the same external stimulus applied to -different senses gives rise to different sensations. The conclusion -from these facts seems to be, that our sense-organs can give us -knowledge only of what occurs in themselves, but not of the external -world. They determine our percepts, each according to its own nature. - -Physiology shows, further, that there can be no direct knowledge even -of the effects which objects produce on our sense-organs. Through his -study of the processes which occur in our own bodies, the physiologist -finds that, even in the sense-organs, the effects of the external -process are modified in the most diverse ways. We can see this most -clearly in the case of eye and ear. Both are very complicated organs -which modify the external stimulus considerably, before they conduct -it to the corresponding nerve. From the peripheral end of the nerve -the modified stimulus is then conducted to the brain. Here the central -organs must in turn be stimulated. The conclusion is, therefore, drawn -that the external process undergoes a series of transformations before -it reaches consciousness. The brain processes are connected by so many -intermediate links with the external stimuli, that any similarity -between them is out of the question. What the brain ultimately -transmits to the soul is neither external processes, nor processes in -the sense-organs, but only such as occur in the brain. But even these -are not apprehended immediately by the soul. What we finally have -in consciousness are not brain processes at all, but sensations. My -sensation of red has absolutely no similarity with the process which -occurs in the brain when I sense red. The sensation, again, occurs as -an effect in the mind, and the brain process is only its cause. This is -why Hartmann (Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie, p. 37) says, "What -the subject experiences is therefore only modifications of his own -psychical states and nothing else." However, when I have sensations, -they are very far as yet from being grouped in those complexes which -I perceive as "things." Only single sensations can be transmitted -to me by the brain. The sensations of hardness and softness are -transmitted to me by the organ of touch, those of colour and light by -the organ of sight. Yet all these are found united in one object. This -unification must, therefore, be brought about by the soul itself; -that is, the soul constructs things out of the separate sensations -which the brain conveys to it. My brain conveys to me singly, and by -widely different paths, the visual, tactual, and auditory sensations -which the soul then combines into the idea of a trumpet. Thus, what -is really the result of a process (i.e., the idea of a trumpet), -is for my consciousness the primary datum. In this result nothing -can any longer be found of what exists outside of me and originally -stimulated my sense-organs. The external object is lost entirely on -the way to the brain and through the brain to the soul. - -It would be hard to find in the history of human speculation another -edifice of thought which has been built up with greater ingenuity, -and which yet, on closer analysis, collapses into nothing. Let us -look a little closer at the way it has been constructed. The theory -starts with what is given in naïve consciousness, i.e., with things as -perceived. It proceeds to show that none of the qualities which we find -in these things would exist for us, had we no sense-organs. No eye--no -colour. Therefore, the colour is not, as yet, present in the stimulus -which affects the eye. It arises first through the interaction of the -eye and the object. The latter is, therefore, colourless. But neither -is the colour in the eye, for in the eye there is only a chemical, -or physical, process which is first conducted by the optic nerve to -the brain, and there initiates another process. Even this is not yet -the colour. That is only produced in the soul by means of the brain -process. Even then it does not yet appear in consciousness, but is -first referred by the soul to a body in the external world. There -I finally perceive it, as a quality of this body. We have travelled -in a complete circle. We are conscious of a coloured object. That is -the starting-point. Here thought begins its construction. If I had no -eye, the object would be, for me, colourless. I cannot, therefore, -attribute the colour to the object. I must look for it elsewhere. I -look for it, first, in the eye--in vain; in the nerve--in vain; in -the brain--in vain once more; in the soul--here I find it indeed, -but not attached to the object. I recover the coloured body only on -returning to my starting-point. The circle is completed. The theory -leads me to identify what the naïve man regards as existing outside -of him, as really a product of my mind. - -As long as one stops here everything seems to fit beautifully. But -we must go over the argument once more from the beginning. Hitherto I -have used, as my starting-point, the object, i.e., the external percept -of which up to now, from my naïve standpoint, I had a totally wrong -conception. I thought that the percept, just as I perceive it, had -objective existence. But now I observe that it disappears with my act -of perception, that it is only a modification of my mental state. Have -I, then, any right at all to start from it in my arguments? Can I -say of it that it acts on my soul? I must henceforth treat the table -of which formerly I believed that it acted on me, and produced an -idea of itself in me, as itself an idea. But from this it follows -logically that my sense-organs, and the processes in them are also -merely subjective. I have no right to talk of a real eye but only -of my idea of an eye. Exactly the same is true of the nerve paths, -and the brain processes, and even of the process in the soul itself, -through which things are supposed to be constructed out of the chaos -of diverse sensations. If assuming the truth of the first circle of -argumentation, I run through the steps of my cognitive activity once -more, the latter reveals itself as a tissue of ideas which, as such, -cannot act on one another. I cannot say that my idea of the object -acts on my idea of the eye, and that from this interaction results -my idea of colour. But it is necessary that I should say this. For -as soon as I see clearly that my sense-organs and their activity, -my nerve- and soul-processes, can also be known to me only through -perception, the argument which I have outlined reveals itself in -its full absurdity. It is quite true that I can have no percept -without the corresponding sense-organ. But just as little can I -be aware of a sense-organ without perception. From the percept of -a table I can pass to the eye which sees it, or the nerves in the -skin which touches it, but what takes place in these I can, in turn, -learn only from perception. And then I soon perceive that there is no -trace of similarity between the process which takes place in the eye -and the colour which I see. I cannot get rid of colour sensations -by pointing to the process which takes place in the eye whilst I -perceive a colour. No more can I re-discover the colour in the nerve- -or brain-processes. I only add a new percept, localised within the -organism, to the first percept which the naïve man localises outside -of his organism. I only pass from one percept to another. - -Moreover, there is a break in the whole argument. I can follow -the processes in my organism up to those in my brain, even though -my assumptions become more and more hypothetical as I approach the -central processes of the brain. The method of external observation -ceases with the process in my brain, more particularly with the -process which I should observe, if I could treat the brain with -the instruments and methods of Physics and Chemistry. The method of -internal observation, or introspection, begins with the sensations, -and includes the construction of things out of the material of -sense-data. At the point of transition from brain process to sensation, -there is a break in the sequence of observation. - -The theory which I have here described, and which calls itself Critical -Idealism, in contrast to the standpoint of naïve common sense which it -calls Naïve Realism, makes the mistake of characterising one group of -percepts as ideas, whilst taking another group in the very same sense -as the Naïve Realism which it apparently refutes. It establishes the -ideal character of percepts by accepting naïvely, as objectively valid -facts, the percepts connected with one's own body; and, in addition, -it fails to see that it confuses two spheres of observation, between -which it can find no connecting link. - -Critical Idealism can refute Naïve Realism only by itself assuming, -in naïve-realistic fashion, that one's own organism has objective -existence. As soon as the Idealist realises that the percepts connected -with his own organism stand on exactly the same footing as those which -Naïve Realism assumes to have objective existence, he can no longer -use the former as a safe foundation for his theory. He would, to be -consistent, have to regard his own organism also as a mere complex -of ideas. But this removes the possibility of regarding the content -of the perceptual world as a product of the mind's organisation. One -would have to assume that the idea "colour" was only a modification -of the idea "eye." So-called Critical Idealism can be established -only by borrowing the assumptions of Naïve Realism. The apparent -refutation of the latter is achieved only by uncritically accepting -its own assumptions as valid in another sphere. - -This much, then, is certain: Analysis within the world of percepts -cannot establish Critical Idealism, and, consequently, cannot strip -percepts of their objective character. - -Still less is it legitimate to represent the principle that -"the perceptual world is my idea" as self-evident and needing no -proof. Schopenhauer begins his chief work, The World as Will and Idea, -with the words: "The world is my idea--this is a truth which holds -good for everything that lives and knows, though man alone can bring -it into reflective and abstract consciousness. If he really does this, -he has attained to philosophical wisdom. It then becomes clear and -certain to him that what he knows is not a sun and an earth, but only -an eye that sees a sun, a hand that feels an earth; that the world -which surrounds him is there only in idea, i.e., only in relation -to something else, the consciousness which is himself. If any truth -can be asserted a priori, it is this: for it is the expression of -the most general form of all possible and thinkable experience, -a form which is more general than time, or space, or causality, -for they all presuppose it ..." (The World as Will and Idea, Book I, -par. 1). This whole theory is wrecked by the fact, already mentioned -above, that the eyes and the hand are just as much percepts as the -sun and the earth. Using Schopenhauer's vocabulary in his own sense, -I might maintain against him that my eye which sees the sun, and my -hand which feels the earth, are my ideas just like the sun and the -earth themselves. That, put in this way, the whole theory cancels -itself, is clear without further argument. For only my real eye and -my real hand, but not my ideas "eye" and "hand," could own the ideas -"sun" and "earth" as modifications. Yet it is only in terms of these -ideas that Critical Idealism has the right to speak. - -Critical Idealism is totally unable to gain an insight unto the -relation of percept to idea. It cannot make the separation, mentioned -on p. 58, between what happens to the percept in the process of -perception and what must be inherent in it prior to perception. We -must therefore attempt this problem in another way. - - - - - - - - -V - -OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD - - -From the foregoing considerations it follows that it is impossible -to prove, by analysis of the content of our perceptions, that our -percepts are ideas. This is supposed to be proved by showing that, if -the process of perceiving takes place in the way in which we conceive -it in accordance with the naïve-realistic assumptions concerning the -psychological and physiological constitution of human individuals, -then we have to do, not with things themselves, but merely with our -ideas of things. Now, if Naïve Realism, when consistently thought -out, leads to results which directly contradict its presuppositions, -then these presuppositions must be discarded as unsuitable for the -foundation of a theory of the world. In any case, it is inadmissible -to reject the presuppositions and yet accept the consequences, as the -Critical Idealist does who bases his assertion that the world is my -idea on the line of argument indicated above. (Eduard von Hartmann -gives in his work Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie a full -account of this line of argument.) - -The truth of Critical Idealism is one thing, the persuasiveness -of its proofs another. How it stands with the former, will appear -later in the course of our argument, but the persuasiveness of its -proofs is nil. If one builds a house, and the ground floor collapses -whilst the first floor is being built, then the first floor collapses -too. Naïve Realism and Critical Idealism are related to one another -like the ground floor to the first floor in this simile. - -For one who holds that the whole perceptual world is only an ideal -world, and, moreover, the effect of things unknown to him acting -on his soul, the real problem of knowledge is naturally concerned, -not with the ideas present only in the soul, but with the things -which lie outside his consciousness, and which are independent of -him. He asks, How much can we learn about them indirectly, seeing -that we cannot observe them directly? From this point of view, he -is concerned, not with the connection of his conscious percepts with -one another, but with their causes which transcend his consciousness -and exist independently of him, whereas the percepts, on his view, -disappear as soon as he turns his sense-organs away from the things -themselves. Our consciousness, on this view, works like a mirror -from which the pictures of definite things disappear the very moment -its reflecting surface is not turned towards them. If, now, we do -not see the things themselves, but only their reflections, we must -obtain knowledge of the nature of the former indirectly by drawing -conclusions from the character of the latter. The whole of modern -science adopts this point of view, when it uses percepts only as -a means of obtaining information about the motions of matter which -lie behind them, and which alone really "are." If the philosopher, -as Critical Idealist, admits real existence at all, then his sole -aim is to gain knowledge of this real existence indirectly by means -of his ideas. His interest ignores the subjective world of ideas, -and pursues instead the causes of these ideas. - -The Critical Idealist can, however, go even further and say, I -am confined to the world of my own ideas and cannot escape from -it. If I conceive a thing beyond my ideas, this concept, once more, -is nothing but my idea. An Idealist of this type will either deny -the thing-in-itself entirely or, at any rate, assert that it has no -significance for human minds, i.e., that it is as good as non-existent -since we can know nothing of it. - -To this kind of Critical Idealist the whole world seems a chaotic -dream, in the face of which all striving for knowledge is simply -meaningless. For him there can be only two sorts of men: (1) victims -of the illusion that the dreams they have woven themselves are real -things, and (2) wise men who see through the nothingness of this -dream world, and who gradually lose all desire to trouble themselves -further about it. From this point of view, even one's own personality -may become a mere dream phantom. Just as during sleep there appears -among my dream-images an image of myself, so in waking consciousness -the idea of my own Self is added to the idea of the outer world. I have -then given to me in consciousness, not my real Self, but only my idea -of my Self. Whoever denies that things exist, or, at least, that we -can know anything of them, must also deny the existence, respectively -the knowledge, of one's own personality. This is how the Critical -Idealist comes to maintain that "All reality transforms itself into -a wonderful dream, without a life which is the object of the dream, -and without a mind which has the dream; into a dream which is nothing -but a dream of itself." (Cp. Fichte, Die Bestimmung des Menschen.) - -Whether he who believes that he recognises immediate experience to -be a dream, postulates nothing behind this dream, or whether he -relates his ideas to actual things, is immaterial. In both cases -life itself must lose all scientific interest for him. However, -whereas for those who believe that the whole of accessible reality -is exhausted in dreams, all science is an absurdity, for those who -feel compelled to argue from ideas to things, science consists in -studying these things-in-themselves. The first of these theories of -the world may be called Absolute Illusionism, the second is called -Transcendental Realism [2] by its most rigorously logical exponent, -Eduard von Hartmann. - -These two points of view have this in common with Naïve Realism, that -they seek to gain a footing in the world by means of an analysis of -percepts. Within this sphere, however, they are unable to find any -stable point. - -One of the most important questions for an adherent of Transcendental -Realism would have to be, how the Ego constructs the world of ideas -out of itself. A world of ideas which was given to us, and which -disappeared as soon as we shut our senses to the external world, might -provoke an earnest desire for knowledge, in so far as it was a means -for investigating indirectly the world of the self-existing Self. If -the things of our experience were "ideas," then our everyday life would -be like a dream, and the discovery of the true facts like waking. Even -our dream-images interest us as long as we dream and, consequently, -do not detect their dream character. But as soon as we wake, we no -longer look for the connections of our dream-images among themselves, -but rather for the physical, physiological, and psychological processes -which underlie them. In the same way, a philosopher who holds the world -to be his idea, cannot be interested in the reciprocal relations of the -details within the world. If he admits the existence of a real Ego at -all, then his question will be, not how one of his ideas is associated -with another, but what takes place in the Soul which is independent -of these ideas, while a certain train of ideas passes through his -consciousness. If I dream that I am drinking wine which makes my -throat burn, and then wake up with a fit of coughing (cp. Weygandt, -Entstehung der Träume, 1893) I cease, the moment I wake, to be -interested in the dream-experience for its own sake. My attention is -now concerned only with the physiological and psychological processes -by means of which the irritation which causes me to cough, comes to be -symbolically expressed in the dream. Similarly, once the philosopher -is convinced that the given world consists of nothing but ideas, his -interest is bound to switch from them at once to the soul which is -the reality lying behind them. The matter is more serious, however, -for the Illusionist who denies the existence of an Ego behind the -"ideas," or at least holds this Ego to be unknowable. We might very -easily be led to such a view by the reflection that, in contrast to -dreaming, there is the waking state in which we have the opportunity -to detect our dreams, and to realise the real relations of things, -but that there is no state of the self which is related similarly to -our waking conscious life. Every adherent of this view fails entirely -to see that there is, in fact, something which is to mere perception -what our waking experience to our dreams. This something is thought. - -The naïve man cannot be charged with failure to perceive this. He -accepts life as it is, and regards things as real just as they -present themselves to him in experience. The first step, however, -which we take beyond this standpoint can be only this, that we ask -how thought is related to perception. It makes no difference whether -or no the percept, as given to me, has a continuous existence before -and after I perceive it. If I want to assert anything whatever about -it, I can do so only with the help of thought. When I assert that the -world is my idea, I have enunciated the result of an act of thought, -and if my thought is not applicable to the world, then my result is -false. Between a percept and every kind of judgment about it there -intervenes thought. - -The reason why, in our discussion about things, we generally -overlook the part played by thought, has already been given above -(p. 31). It lies in the fact that our attention is concentrated only -on the object about which we think, but not at the same time on the -thinking itself. The naïve mind, therefore, treats thought as something -which has nothing to do with things, but stands altogether aloof from -them and makes its theories about them. The theory which the thinker -constructs concerning the phenomena of the world is regarded, not as -part of the real things, but as existing only in men's heads. The -world is complete in itself even without this theory. It is all -ready-made and finished with all its substances and forces, and of -this ready-made world man makes himself a picture. Whoever thinks -thus need only be asked one question. What right have you to declare -the world to be complete without thought? Does not the world cause -thoughts in the minds of men with the same necessity as it causes -the blossoms on plants? Plant a seed in the earth. It puts forth -roots and stem, it unfolds into leaves and blossoms. Set the plant -before yourselves. It connects itself, in your minds, with a definite -concept. Why should this concept belong any less to the whole plant -than leaf and blossom? You say the leaves and blossoms exist quite -apart from an experiencing subject. The concept appears only when a -human being makes an object of the plant. Quite so. But leaves and -blossoms also appear on the plant only if there is soil in which -the seed can be planted, and light and air in which the blossoms -and leaves can unfold. Just so the concept of a plant arises when a -thinking being comes into contact with the plant. - -It is quite arbitrary to regard the sum of what we experience of a -thing through bare perception as a totality, a whole, while that which -thought reveals in it is regarded as a mere accretion which has nothing -to do with the thing itself. If I am given a rosebud to-day, the -percept that offers itself to me is complete only for the moment. If -I put the bud into water, I shall to-morrow get a very different -picture of my object. If I watch the rosebud without interruption, -I shall see to-day's state gradually change into to-morrow's through -an infinite number of intermediate stages. The picture which presents -itself to me at any one moment is only a chance section out of the -continuous process of growth in which the object is engaged. If I do -not put the bud into water, a whole series of states, the possibility -of which lay in the bud, will not be realised. Similarly, I may be -prevented to-morrow from watching the blossom further, and thus carry -away an incomplete picture of it. - -It would be a quite unscientific and arbitrary judgment which declared -of any haphazard appearance of a thing, this is the thing. - -To regard the sum of perceptual appearances as the thing is no more -legitimate. It might be quite possible for a mind to receive the -concept at the same time as, and together with, the percept. To -such a mind it would never occur that the concept did not belong -to the thing. It would have to ascribe to the concept an existence -indivisibly bound up with the thing. - -Let me make myself clearer by another example. If I throw a -stone horizontally through the air, I perceive it in different -places at different times. I connect these places so as to form a -line. Mathematics teaches me to distinguish various kinds of lines, -one of which is the parabola. I know a parabola to be a line which is -produced by a point moving according to a certain well-defined law. If -I analyse the conditions under which the stone thrown by me moves, -I find that the line of its flight is identical with the line I know -as a parabola. That the stone moves exactly in a parabola is a result -of the given conditions and follows necessarily from them. The form -of the parabola belongs to the whole phenomenon as much as any other -feature of it. The hypothetical mind described above which has no -need of the roundabout way of thought, would find itself presented, -not only with a sequence of visual percepts at different points, but, -as part and parcel of these phenomena, also with the parabolic form -of the line of flight, which we can add to the phenomenon only by an -act of thought. - -It is not due to the real objects that they appear to us at first -without their conceptual sides, but to our mental organisation. Our -whole organisation functions in such a way that in the apprehension -of every real thing the relevant elements come to us from two sources, -viz., from perception and from thought. - -The nature of things is indifferent to the way I am organised for -apprehending them. The breach between perception and thought exists -only from the moment that I confront objects as spectator. But which -elements do, and which do not, belong to the objects, cannot depend -on the manner in which I obtain my knowledge of them. - -Man is a being with many limitations. First of all, he is a thing among -other things. His existence is in space and time. Hence but a limited -portion of the total universe can ever be given to him. This limited -portion, however, is linked up with other parts on every side both -in time and in space. If our existence were so linked with things -that every process in the object world were also a process in us, -there would be no difference between us and things. Neither would -there be any individual objects for us. All processes and events -would then pass continuously one into the other. The cosmos would be -a unity and a whole complete in itself. The stream of events would -nowhere be interrupted. But owing to our limitations we perceive as -an individual object what, in truth, is not an individual object at -all. Nowhere, e.g., is the particular quality "red" to be found by -itself in abstraction. It is surrounded on all sides by other qualities -to which it belongs, and without which it could not subsist. For -us, however, it is necessary to isolate certain sections of the -world and to consider them by themselves. Our eye can seize only -single colours one after another out of a manifold colour-complex, -our understanding only single concepts out of a connected conceptual -system. This isolation is a subjective act, which is due to the fact -that we are not identical with the world-process, but are only things -among other things. - -It is of the greatest importance for us to determine the relation -of ourselves, as things, to all other things. The determining of -this relation must be distinguished from merely becoming conscious -of ourselves. For this self-awareness we depend on perception just -as we do for our awareness of any other thing. The perception of -myself reveals to me a number of qualities which I combine into an -apprehension of my personality as a whole, just as I combine the -qualities, yellow, metallic, hard, etc., in the unity "gold." This -kind of self-consciousness does not take me beyond the sphere of what -belongs to me. Hence it must be distinguished from the determination -of myself by thought. Just as I determine by thought the place of any -single percept of the external world in the whole cosmic system, so I -fit by an act of thought what I perceive in myself into the order of -the world-process. My self-observation restricts me within definite -limits, but my thought has nothing to do with these limits. In this -sense I am a two-sided being. I am contained within the sphere which -I apprehend as that of my personality, but I am also the possessor -of an activity which, from a higher standpoint, determines my finite -existence. Thought is not individual like sensation and feeling; -it is universal. It receives an individual stamp in each separate -human being only because it comes to be related to his individual -feelings and sensations. By means of these particular colourings -of the universal thought, individual men are distinguished from -one another. There is only one single concept of "triangle." It is -quite immaterial for the content of this concept whether it is in A's -consciousness or in B's. It will, however, be grasped by each of the -two minds in its own individual way. - -This thought conflicts with a common prejudice which is very hard to -overcome. The victims of this prejudice are unable to see that the -concept of a triangle which my mind grasps is the same as the concept -which my neighbour's mind grasps. The naïve man believes himself to -be the creator of his concepts. Hence he believes that each person has -his private concepts. One of the first things which philosophic thought -requires of us is to overcome this prejudice. The one single concept of -"triangle" does not split up into many concepts because it is thought -by many minds. For the thought of the many is itself a unity. - -In thought we have the element which welds each man's special -individuality into one whole with the cosmos. In so far as we sense -and feel (perceive), we are isolated individuals; in so far as -we think, we are the All-One Being which pervades everything. This -is the deeper meaning of our two-sided nature. We are conscious of -an absolute principle revealing itself in us, a principle which is -universal. But we experience it, not as it issues from the centre of -the world, but rather at a point on the periphery. Were the former -the case, we should know, as soon as ever we became conscious, the -solution of the whole world problem. But since we stand at a point -on the periphery, and find that our own being is confined within -definite limits, we must explore the region which lies beyond our -own being with the help of thought, which is the universal cosmic -principle manifesting itself in our minds. - -The fact that thought, in us, reaches out beyond our separate existence -and relates itself to the universal world-order, gives rise to the -desire for knowledge in us. Beings without thought do not experience -this desire. When they come in contact with other things no questions -arise for them. These other things remain external to such beings. But -in thinking beings the concept confronts the external thing. It is -that part of the thing which we receive not from without, but from -within. To assimilate, to unite, the two elements, the inner and the -outer, that is the function of knowledge. - -The percept, thus, is not something finished and self-contained, but -one side only of the total reality. The other side is the concept. The -act of cognition is the synthesis of percept and concept. And it is -only the union of percept and concept which constitutes the whole -thing. - -The preceding discussion shows clearly that it is futile to seek for -any other common element in the separate things of the world than the -ideal content which thinking supplies. All attempts to discover any -other principle of unity in the world than this internally coherent -ideal content, which we gain for ourselves by the conceptual -analysis of our percepts, are bound to fail. Neither a personal -God, nor force, nor matter, nor the blind will (of Schopenhauer and -Hartmann), can be accepted by us as the universal principle of unity -in the world. These principles all belong only to a limited sphere -of our experience. Personality we experience only in ourselves, -force and matter only in external things. The will, again, can -be regarded only as the expression of the activity of our finite -personalities. Schopenhauer wants to avoid making "abstract" thought -the principle of unity in the world, and seeks instead something which -presents itself to him immediately as real. This philosopher holds that -we can never solve the riddle of the world so long as we regard it as -an "external" world. "In fact, the meaning for which we seek of that -world which is present to us only as our idea, or the transition from -the world as mere idea of the knowing subject to whatever it may be -besides this, would never be found if the investigator himself were -nothing more than the pure knowing subject (a winged cherub without -a body). But he himself is rooted in that world: he finds himself -in it as an individual, that is to say, his knowledge, which is the -necessary supporter of the whole world as idea, is yet always given -through the medium of a body, whose affections are, as we have shown, -the starting-point for the understanding in the perception of that -world. His body is, for the pure knowing subject, an idea like every -other idea, an object among objects. Its movements and actions are so -far known to him in precisely the same way as the changes of all other -perceived objects, and would be just as strange and incomprehensible -to him if their meaning were not explained for him in an entirely -different way.... The body is given in two entirely different ways to -the subject of knowledge, who becomes an individual only through his -identity with it. It is given as an idea in intelligent perception, -as an object among objects and subject to the laws of objects. And it -is also given in quite a different way as that which is immediately -known to every one, and is signified by the word 'will.' Every true -act of his will is also at once and without exception a movement of -his body. The act of will and the movement of the body are not two -different things objectively known, which the bond of causality unites; -they do not stand in the relation of cause and effect; they are one and -the same, but they are given in entirely different ways--immediately, -and again in perception for the understanding." (The World as Will -and Idea, Book 2, § 18.) Schopenhauer considers himself entitled by -these arguments to hold that the will becomes objectified in the -human body. He believes that in the activities of the body he has -an immediate experience of reality, of the thing-in-itself in the -concrete. Against these arguments we must urge that the activities of -our body become known to us only through self-observation, and that, -as such, they are in no way superior to other percepts. If we want -to know their real nature, we can do so only by means of thought, -i.e., by fitting them into the ideal system of our concepts and ideas. - -One of the most deeply rooted prejudices of the naïve mind is -the opinion that thinking is abstract and empty of any concrete -content. At best, we are told, it supplies but an "ideal" counterpart -of the unity of the world, but never that unity itself. Whoever holds -this view has never made clear to himself what a percept apart from -concepts really is. Let us see what this world of bare percepts is. A -mere juxtaposition in space, a mere succession in time, a chaos of -disconnected particulars--that is what it is. None of these things -which come and go on the stage of perception has any connection with -any other. The world is a multiplicity of objects without distinctions -of value. None plays any greater part in the nexus of the world than -any other. In order to realise that this or that fact has a greater -importance than another we must go to thought. As long as we do not -think, the rudimentary organ of an animal which has no significance -in its life, appears equal in value to its more important limbs. The -particular facts reveal their meaning, in themselves and in their -relations with other parts of the world, only when thought spins its -threads from thing to thing. This activity of thinking has always -a content. For it is only through a perfectly definite concrete -content that I can know why the snail belongs to a lower type of -organisation than the lion. The mere appearance, the percept, gives -me no content which could inform me as to the degree of perfection -of the organisation. - -Thought contributes this content to the percept from the world of -concepts and ideas. In contrast with the content of perception which -is given to us from without, the content of thought appears within -our minds. The form in which thought first appears in consciousness -we will call "intuition." Intuition is to thoughts what observation -is to percepts. Intuition and observation are the sources of our -knowledge. An external object which we observe remains unintelligible -to us, until the corresponding intuition arises within us which adds -to the reality those sides of it which are lacking in the percept. To -anyone who is incapable of supplying the relevant intuitions, -the full nature of the real remains a sealed book. Just as the -colour-blind person sees only differences of brightness without -any colour qualities, so the mind which lacks intuition sees only -disconnected fragments of percepts. - -To explain a thing, to make it intelligible, means nothing else than to -place it in the context from which it has been torn by the peculiar -organisation of our minds, described above. Nothing can possibly -exist cut off from the universe. Hence all isolation of objects has -only subjective validity for minds organised like ours. For us the -universe is split up into above and below, before and after, cause -and effect, object and idea, matter and force, object and subject, -etc. The objects which, in observation, appear to us as separate, -become combined, bit by bit, through the coherent, unified system -of our intuitions. By thought we fuse again into one whole all that -perception has separated. - -An object presents riddles to our understanding so long as it exists -in isolation. But this is an abstraction of our own making and can -be unmade again in the world of concepts. - -Except through thought and perception nothing is given to us -directly. The question now arises as to the interpretation of percepts -on our theory. We have learnt that the proof which Critical Idealism -offers for the subjective nature of percepts collapses. But the -exhibition of the falsity of the proof is not, by itself, sufficient -to show that the doctrine itself is an error. Critical Idealism does -not base its proof on the absolute nature of thought, but relies on the -argument that Naïve Realism, when followed to its logical conclusion, -contradicts itself. How does the matter appear when we recognise the -absoluteness of thought? - -Let us assume that a certain percept, e.g., red, appears in -consciousness. To continued observation, the percept shows itself to -be connected with other percepts, e.g., a certain figure, temperature, -and touch-qualities. This complex of percepts I call an object in -the world of sense. I can now ask myself: Over and above the percepts -just mentioned, what else is there in the section of space in which -they are? I shall then find mechanical, chemical, and other processes -in that section of space. I next go further and study the processes -which take place between the object and my sense-organs. I shall -find oscillations in an elastic medium, the character of which has -not the least in common with the percepts from which I started. I -get the same result if I trace further the connection between -sense-organs and brain. In each of these inquiries I gather new -percepts, but the connecting thread which binds all these spatially -and temporally separated percepts into one whole, is thought. The air -vibrations which carry sound are given to me as percepts just like -the sound. Thought alone links all these percepts one to the other -and exhibits them in their reciprocal relations. We have no right -to say that over and above our immediate percepts there is anything -except the ideal nexus of precepts (which thought has to reveal). The -relation of the object perceived to the perceiving subject, which -relation transcends the bare percept, is therefore purely ideal, -i.e., capable of being expressed only through concepts. Only if it -were possible to perceive how the object of perception affects the -perceiving subject, or, alternatively, only if I could watch the -construction of the perceptual complex through the subject, could we -speak as modern Physiology, and the Critical Idealism which is based -on it, speak. Their theory confuses an ideal relation (that of the -object to the subject) with a process of which we could speak only if -it were possible to perceive it. The proposition, "No colour without -a colour-sensing eye," cannot be taken to mean that the eye produces -the colour, but only that an ideal relation, recognisable by thought, -subsists between the percept "colour" and the percept "eye." - -To empirical science belongs the task of ascertaining how the -properties of the eye and those of the colours are related to one -another; by means of what structures the organ of sight makes possible -the perception of colours, etc. I can trace how one percept succeeds -another and how one is related to others in space, and I can formulate -these relations in conceptual terms, but I can never perceive how a -percept originates out of the non-perceptible. All attempts to seek -any relations between percepts other than conceptual relations must -of necessity fail. - -What then is a percept? This question, asked in this general way, -is absurd. A percept appears always as a perfectly determinate, -concrete content. This content is immediately given and is completely -contained in the given. The only question one can ask concerning -the given content is, what it is apart from perception, that is, -what it is for thought. The question concerning the "what" of a -percept can, therefore, only refer to the conceptual intuition which -corresponds to the percept. From this point of view, the problem of the -subjectivity of percepts, in the sense in which the Critical Idealists -debate it, cannot be raised at all. Only that which is experienced -as belonging to the subject can be termed "subjective." To form a -link between subject and object is impossible for any real process, -in the naïve sense of the word "real," in which it means a process -which can be perceived. That is possible only for thought. For us, -then, "objective" means that which, for perception, presents itself -as external to the perceiving subject. As subject of perception I -remain perceptible to myself after the table which now stands before -me has disappeared from my field of observation. The perception of the -table has produced a modification in me which persists like myself. I -preserve an image of the table which now forms part of my Self. Modern -Psychology terms this image a "memory-idea." Now this is the only -thing which has any right to be called the idea of the table. For it -is the perceptible modification of my own mental state through the -presence of the table in my visual field. Moreover, it does not mean -a modification in some "Ego-in-itself" behind the perceiving subject, -but the modification of the perceiving subject itself. The idea is, -therefore, a subjective percept, in contrast with the objective percept -which occurs when the object is present in the perceptual field. The -false identification of the subjective with this objective percept -leads to the misunderstanding of Idealism: The world is my idea. - -Our next task must be to define the concept of "idea" more nearly. What -we have said about it so far does not give us the concept, but only -shows us where in the perceptual field ideas are to be found. The -exact concept of "idea" will also make it possible for us to obtain -a satisfactory understanding of the relation of idea and object. This -will then lead us over the border-line, where the relation of subject -to object is brought down from the purely conceptual field of knowledge -into concrete individual life. Once we know how we are to conceive -the world, it will be an easy task to adapt ourselves to it. Only -when we know to what object we are to devote our activity can we put -our whole energy into our actions. - - - - -ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -The view which I have here outlined may be regarded as one to which -man is led as it were spontaneously, as soon as he begins to reflect -about his relation to the world. He then finds himself caught in a -system of thoughts which dissolves for him as fast as he frames it. The -thoughts which form this system are such that the purely theoretical -refutation of them does not exhaust our task. We have to live through -them, in order to understand the confusion into which they lead us, -and to find the way out. They must figure in any discussion of the -relation of man to the world, not for the sake of refuting others -whom one believes to be holding mistaken views about this relation, -but because it is necessary to understand the confusion in which -all first efforts at reflection about such a relation are apt to -issue. One needs to learn by experience how to refute oneself with -respect to these first reflections. This is the point of view from -which the arguments of the preceding chapter are to be understood. - -Whoever tries to work out for himself a theory of the relation of man -to the world, becomes aware of the fact that he creates this relation, -at least in part, by forming ideas about the things and events in the -world. In consequence, his attention is deflected from what exists -outside in the world and directed towards his inner world, the realm -of his ideas. He begins to say to himself, It is impossible for me -to stand in relation to any thing or event, unless an idea appears -in me. From this fact, once noticed, it is but a step to the theory: -all that I experience is only my ideas; of the existence of a world -outside I know only in so far as it is an idea in me. With this theory, -man abandons the standpoint of Naïve Realism which he occupies prior -to all reflection about his relation to the world. So long as he -stands there, he believes that he is dealing with real things, but -reflection about himself drives him away from this position. Reflection -does not reveal to his gaze a real world such as naïve consciousness -claims to have before it. Reflection reveals to him only his ideas; -they interpose themselves between his own nature and a supposedly -real world, such as the naïve point of view confidently affirms. The -interposition of the world of ideas prevents man from perceiving any -longer such a real world. He must suppose that he is blind to such -a reality. Thus arises the concept of a "thing-in-itself" which is -inaccessible to knowledge. So long as we consider only the relation -to the world into which man appears to enter through the stream of his -ideas, we can hardly avoid framing this type of theory. Yet we cannot -remain at the point of view of Naïve Realism except at the price -of closing our minds artificially to the desire for knowledge. The -existence of this desire for knowledge about the relation of man to -the world proves that the naïve point of view must be abandoned. If -the naïve point of view yielded anything which we could acknowledge -as truth, we could not experience this desire. But mere abandonment -of the naïve point of view does not lead to any other view which -we could regard as true, so long as we retain, without noticing -it, the type of theory which the naïve point of view imposes on -us. This is the mistake made by the man who says, I experience only -my ideas, and though I think that I am dealing with real things, I am -actually conscious of nothing but my ideas of real things. I must, -therefore, suppose that genuine realities, "things-in-themselves," -exist only outside the boundary of my consciousness; that they are -inaccessible to my immediate knowledge; but that they somehow come -into contact with me and influence me so as to make a world of ideas -arise in me. Whoever thinks thus, duplicates in thought the world -before him by adding another. But, strictly he ought to begin his -whole theorising over again with regard to this second world. For -the unknown "thing-in-itself," in its relation to man's own nature, -is conceived in exactly the same way as is the known thing of the -naïvely realistic point of view. There is only one way of escaping -from the confusion into which one falls, by critical reflection on -this naïve point of view. This is to observe that, at the very heart -of everything we can experience, be it within the mind or outside -in the world of perception, there is something which does not share -the fate of an idea interposing itself between the real event and the -contemplating mind. This something is thinking. With regard to thinking -we can maintain the point of view of Naïve Realism. If we mistakenly -abandon it, it is only because we have learnt that we must abandon -it for other mental activities, but overlook that what we have found -to be true for other activities, does not apply to thinking. When we -realise this, we gain access to the further insight that, in thinking -and through thinking, man necessarily comes to know the very thing to -which he appears to blind himself by interposing between the world and -himself the stream of his ideas. A critic highly esteemed by the author -of this book has objected that this discussion of thinking stops at -a naïvely realistic theory of thinking, as shown by the fact that the -real world and the world of ideas are held to be identical. However, -the author believes himself to have shown in this very discussion -that the validity of "Naïve Realism," as applied to thinking, results -inevitably from an unprejudiced study of thinking; and that Naïve -Realism, in so far as it is invalid for other mental activities, -is overcome through the recognition of the true nature of thinking. - - - - - - - - -VI - -HUMAN INDIVIDUALITY - - -Philosophers have found the chief difficulty in the explanation of -ideas in the fact that we are not identical with the external objects, -and yet our ideas must have a form corresponding to their objects. But -on closer inspection it turns out that this difficulty does not really -exist. We certainly are not identical with the external things, but -we belong together with them to one and the same world. The stream -of the universal cosmic process passes through that segment of the -world which, to my perception, is myself as subject. So far as my -perception goes, I am, in the first instance, confined within the -limits bounded by my skin. But all that is contained within the skin -belongs to the cosmos as a whole. Hence, for a relation to subsist -between my organism and an object external to me, it is by no means -necessary that something of the object should slip into me, or make -an impression on my mind, like a signet-ring on wax. The question, -How do I gain knowledge of that tree ten feet away from me, is utterly -misleading. It springs from the view that the boundaries of my body -are absolute barriers, through which information about external -things filters into me. The forces which are active within my body -are the same as those which exist outside. I am, therefore, really -identical with the objects; not, however, I in so far as I am subject -of perception, but I in so far as I am a part within the universal -cosmic process. The percept of the tree belongs to the same whole as -my Self. The universal cosmic process produces alike, here the percept -of the tree, and there the percept of my Self. Were I a world-creator -instead of a world-knower, subject and object (percept and self) would -originate in one act. For they condition one another reciprocally. As -world-knower I can discover the common element in both, so far as -they are complementary aspects of the world, only through thought -which by means of concepts relates the one to the other. - -The most difficult to drive from the field are the so-called -physiological proofs of the subjectivity of our percepts. When I -exert pressure on the skin of my body, I experience it as a pressure -sensation. This same pressure can be sensed as light by the eye, -as sound by the ear. I experience an electrical shock by the eye -as light, by the ear as sound, by the nerves of the skin as touch, -and by the nose as a smell of phosphorus. What follows from these -facts? Only this: I experience an electrical shock, or, as the case -may be, a pressure followed by a light, or a sound, or, it may be, -a certain smell, etc. If there were no eye present, then no light -quality would accompany the perception of the mechanical vibrations in -my environment; without the presence of the ear, no sound, etc. But -what right have we to say that in the absence of sense-organs the -whole process would not exist at all? All those who, from the fact -that an electrical process causes a sensation of light in the eye, -conclude that what we sense as light is only a mechanical process of -motion, forget that they are only arguing from one percept to another, -and not at all to something altogether transcending percepts. Just as -we can say that the eye perceives a mechanical process of motion in -its surroundings as light, so we can affirm that every change in an -object, determined by natural law, is perceived by us as a process of -motion. If I draw twelve pictures of a horse on the circumference of -a rotating disc, reproducing exactly the positions which the horse's -body successively assumes in movement, I can, by rotating the disc, -produce the illusion of movement. I need only look through an opening -in such a way that, at regular intervals, I perceive the successive -positions of the horse. I perceive, not separate pictures of twelve -horses, but one picture of a single galloping horse. - -The above-mentioned physiological facts cannot, therefore, throw -any light on the relation of percept to idea. Hence, we must seek a -relation some other way. - -The moment a percept appears in my field of consciousness, thought, -too, becomes active in me. A member of my thought-system, a definite -intuition, a concept, connects itself with the percept. When, next, -the percept disappears from my field of vision, what remains? The -intuition, with the reference to the particular percept which it -acquired in the moment of perception. The degree of vividness with -which I can subsequently recall this reference depends on the manner in -which my mental and bodily organism is working. An idea is nothing but -an intuition related to a particular percept; it is a concept which -was once connected with a certain percept, and which retains this -reference to the percept. My concept of a lion is not constructed out -of my percepts of a lion; but my idea of a lion is formed under the -guidance of the percepts. I can teach someone to form the concept of -a lion without his ever having seen a lion, but I can never give him -a living idea of it without the help of his own perception. - -An idea is therefore nothing but an individualised concept. And now -we can see how real objects can be represented to us by ideas. The -full reality of a thing is present to us in the moment of observation -through the combination of concept and percept. The concept acquires -by means of the percept an individualised form, a relation to this -particular percept. In this individualised form which carries with it, -as an essential feature, the reference to the percept, it continues to -exist in us and constitutes the idea of the thing in question. If we -come across a second thing with which the same concept connects itself, -we recognise the second as being of the same kind as the first; if we -come across the same thing twice, we find in our conceptual system, -not merely a corresponding concept, but the individualised concept -with its characteristic relation to this same object, and thus we -recognise the object again. - -The idea, then, stands between the percept and the concept. It is -the determinate concept which points to the percept. - -The sum of my ideas may be called my experience. The man who has the -greater number of individualised concepts will be the man of richer -experience. A man who lacks all power of intuition is not capable of -acquiring experience. The objects simply disappear again from the -field of his consciousness, because he lacks the concepts which he -ought to bring into relation with them. On the other hand, a man whose -faculty of thought is well developed, but whose perception functions -badly owing to his clumsy sense-organs, will be no better able to -gain experience. He can, it is true, by one means and another acquire -concepts; but the living reference to particular objects is lacking -to his intuitions. The unthinking traveller and the student absorbed -in abstract conceptual systems are alike incapable of acquiring a -rich experience. - -Reality presents itself to us as the union of percept and concept; -and the subjective representation of this reality presents itself to -us as idea. - -If our personality expressed itself only in cognition, the totality of -all that is objective would be contained in percept, concept and idea. - -However, we are not satisfied merely to refer percepts, by means -of thinking, to concepts, but we relate them also to our private -subjectivity, our individual Ego. The expression of this relation to us -as individuals is feeling, which manifests itself as pleasure and pain. - -Thinking and feeling correspond to the two-fold nature of our being -to which reference has already been made. By means of thought we take -an active part in the universal cosmic process. By means of feeling -we withdraw ourselves into the narrow precincts of our own being. - -Thought links us to the world; feeling leads us back into ourselves -and thus makes us individuals. Were we merely thinking and -perceiving beings, our whole life would flow along in monotonous -indifference. Could we only know ourselves as Selves, we should -be totally indifferent to ourselves. It is only because with -self-knowledge we experience self-feeling, and with the perception of -objects pleasure and pain, that we live as individuals whose existence -is not exhausted by the conceptual relations in which they stand to -the rest of the world, but who have a special value in themselves. - -One might be tempted to regard the life of feeling as something more -richly saturated with reality than the apprehension of the world by -thought. But the reply to this is that the life of feeling, after all, -has this richer meaning only for my individual self. For the universe -as a whole my feelings can be of value only if, as percepts of myself, -they enter into connection with a concept and in this roundabout way -become links in the cosmos. - -Our life is a continual oscillation between our share in the universal -world-process and our own individual existence. The farther we ascend -into the universal nature of thought where the individual, at last, -interests us only as an example, an instance, of the concept, the -more the character of something individual, of the quite determinate, -unique personality, becomes lost in us. The farther we descend into the -depths of our own private life and allow the vibrations of our feelings -to accompany all our experiences of the outer world, the more we cut -ourselves off from the universal life. True individuality belongs -to him whose feelings reach up to the farthest possible extent into -the region of the ideal. There are men in whom even the most general -ideas still bear that peculiar personal tinge which shows unmistakably -their connection with their author. There are others whose concepts -come before us as devoid of any trace of individual colouring as if -they had not been produced by a being of flesh and blood at all. - -Even ideas give to our conceptual life an individual stamp. Each -one of us has his special standpoint from which he looks out on the -world. His concepts link themselves to his percepts. He has his own -special way of forming general concepts. This special character -results for each of us from his special standpoint in the world, -from the way in which the range of his percepts is dependent on the -place in the whole where he exists. The conditions of individuality -here indicated, we call the milieu. - -This special character of our experience must be distinguished from -another which depends on our peculiar organisation. Each of us, as we -know, is organised as a unique, fully determined individual. Each of -us combines special feelings, and these in the most varying degrees -of intensity, with his percepts. This is just the individual element -in the personality of each of us. It is what remains over when we -have allowed fully for all the determining factors in our milieu. - -A life of feeling, wholly devoid of thought, would gradually lose -all connection with the world. But man is meant to be a whole, and -knowledge of objects will go hand-in-hand for him with the development -and education of the feeling-side of his nature. - -Feeling is the means whereby, in the first instance, concepts gain -concrete life. - - - - - - - - -VII - -ARE THERE ANY LIMITS TO KNOWLEDGE? - - -We have established that the elements for the explanation of reality -are to be taken from the two spheres of perception and thought. It -is due, as we have seen, to our organisation that the full totality -of reality, including our own selves as subjects, appears at first -as a duality. Knowledge transcends this duality by fusing the two -elements of reality, the percept and the concept, into the complete -thing. Let us call the manner in which the world presents itself to -us, before by means of knowledge it has taken on its true nature, -"the world of appearance," in distinction from the unified whole -composed of percept and concept. We can then say, The world is given -to us as a duality (Dualism), and knowledge transforms it into a unity -(Monism). A philosophy which starts from this basal principle may -be called a Monistic philosophy, or Monism. Opposed to this is the -theory of two worlds, or Dualism. The latter does not, by any means, -assume merely that there are two sides of a single reality, which -are kept apart by our organisation, but that there are two worlds -totally distinct from one another. It then tries to find in one of -these two worlds the principle of explanation for the other. - -Dualism rests on a false conception of what we call knowledge. It -divides the whole of reality into two spheres, each of which has its -own laws, and it leaves these two worlds standing outside one another. - -It is from a Dualism such as this that there arises the distinction -between the object of perception and the thing-in-itself, which -Kant introduced into philosophy, and which, to the present day, we -have not succeeded in expelling. According to our interpretation, -it is due to the nature of our organisation that a particular -object can be given to us only as a percept. Thought transcends this -particularity by assigning to each percept its proper place in the -world as a whole. As long as we determine the separate parts of the -cosmos as percepts, we are simply following, in this sorting out, -a law of our subjective constitution. If, however, we regard all -percepts, taken together, merely as one part, and contrast with this -a second part, viz., the things-in-themselves, then our philosophy -is building castles-in-the-air. We are then engaged in mere playing -with concepts. We construct an artificial opposition, but we can find -no content for the second of these opposites, seeing that no content -for a particular thing can be found except in perception. - -Every kind of reality which is assumed to exist outside the sphere of -perception and conception must be relegated to the limbo of unverified -hypotheses. To this category belongs the "thing-in-itself." It -is, of course, quite natural that a Dualistic thinker should be -unable to find the connection between the world-principle which he -hypothetically assumes and the facts that are given in experience. For -the hypothetical world-principle itself a content can be found only -by borrowing it from experience and shutting one's eyes to the fact of -the borrowing. Otherwise it remains an empty and meaningless concept, -a mere form without content. In this case the Dualistic thinker -generally asserts that the content of this concept is inaccessible to -our knowledge. We can know only that such a content exists, but not -what it is. In either case it is impossible to transcend Dualism. Even -though one were to import a few abstract elements from the world of -experience into the content of the thing-in-itself, it would still -remain impossible to reduce the rich concrete life of experience -to those few elements, which are, after all, themselves taken from -experience. Du Bois-Reymond lays it down that the imperceptible -atoms of matter produce sensation and feeling by means of their -position and motion, and then infers from this premise that we -can never find a satisfactory explanation of how matter and motion -produce sensation and feeling, for "it is absolutely and for ever -unintelligible that it should be other than indifferent to a number -of atoms of carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen, etc., how they lie and -move, how they lay or moved, or how they will lie and will move. It -is in no way intelligible how consciousness can come into existence -through their interaction." This conclusion is characteristic of the -whole tendency of this school of thought. Position and motion are -abstracted from the rich world of percepts. They are then transferred -to the fictitious world of atoms. And then we are astonished that we -fail to evolve concrete life out of this principle of our own making, -which we have borrowed from the world of percepts. - -That the Dualist, working as he does with a completely empty concept -of the thing-in-itself, can reach no explanation of the world, follows -from the very definition of his principle which has been given above. - -In any case, the Dualist finds it necessary to set impassable barriers -to our faculty of knowledge. A follower of the Monistic theory of -the world knows that all he needs to explain any given phenomenon in -the world is to be found within this world itself. What prevents him -from finding it can be only chance limitations in space and time, -or defects of his organisation, i.e., not of human organisation in -general, but only of his own. - -It follows from the concept of knowledge, as defined by us, that -there can be no talk of any limits of knowledge. Knowledge is -not a concern of the universe in general, but one which men must -settle for themselves. External things demand no explanation. They -exist and act on one another according to laws which thought can -discover. They exist in indivisible unity with these laws. But we, -in our self-hood, confront them, grasping at first only what we -have called percepts. However, within ourselves we find the power -to discover also the other part of reality. Only when the Self has -combined for itself the two elements of reality which are indivisibly -bound up with one another in the world, is our thirst for knowledge -stilled. The Self is then again in contact with reality. - -The presuppositions for the development of knowledge thus exist through -and for the Self. It is the Self which sets itself the problems of -knowledge. It takes them from thought, an element which in itself is -absolutely clear and transparent. If we set ourselves questions which -we cannot answer, it must be because the content of the questions -is not in all respects clear and distinct. It is not the world which -sets questions to us, but we who set them to ourselves. - -I can imagine that it would be quite impossible for me to answer a -question which I happened to find written down somewhere, without -knowing the universe of discourse from which the content of the -question is taken. - -In knowledge we are concerned with questions which arise for us -through the fact that a world of percepts, conditioned by time, -space, and our subjective organisation, stands over against a -world of concepts expressing the totality of the universe. Our task -consists in the assimilation to one another of these two spheres, -with both of which we are familiar. There is no room here for talking -about limits of knowledge. It may be that, at a particular moment, -this or that remains unexplained because, through chance obstacles, -we are prevented from perceiving the things involved. What is not -found to-day, however, may easily be found to-morrow. The limits -due to these causes are only contingent, and must be overcome by the -progress of perception and thought. - -Dualism makes the mistake of transferring the opposition of subject -and object, which has meaning only within the perceptual world, -to pure conceptual entities outside this world. Now the distinct -and separate things in the perceptual world remain separated only so -long as the perceiver refrains from thinking. For thought cancels all -separation and reveals it as due to purely subjective conditions. The -Dualist, therefore, transfers to entities transcending the perceptual -world abstract determinations which, even in the perceptual world, -have no absolute, but only relative, validity. He thus divides -the two factors concerned in the process of knowledge, viz., -percept and concept, into four: (1) the object in itself; (2) the -percept which the subject has of the object; (3) the subject; (4) -the concept which relates the percept to the object in itself. The -relation between subject and object is "real"; the subject is really -(dynamically) influenced by the object. This real process does not -appear in consciousness. But it evokes in the subject a response -to the stimulation from the object. The result of this response is -the percept. This, at length, appears in consciousness. The object -has an objective (independent of the subject) reality, the percept -a subjective reality. This subjective reality is referred by the -subject to the object. This reference is an ideal one. Dualism thus -divides the process of knowledge into two parts. The one part, viz., -the production of the perceptual object by the thing-in-itself, he -conceives of as taking place outside consciousness, whereas the other, -the combination of percept with concept and the latter's reference to -the thing-in-itself, takes place, according to him, in consciousness. - -With such presuppositions, it is clear why the Dualist regards his -concepts merely as subjective representations of what is really -external to his consciousness. The objectively real process in the -subject by means of which the percept is produced, and still more -the objective relations between things-in-themselves, remain for the -Dualist inaccessible to direct knowledge. According to him, man can -get only conceptual representations of the objectively real. The bond -of unity which connects things-in-themselves with one another, and -also objectively with the individual minds (as things-in-themselves) -of each of us, exists beyond our consciousness in a Divine Being of -whom, once more, we have merely a conceptual representation. - -The Dualist believes that the whole world would be dissolved into -a mere abstract scheme of concepts, did he not posit the existence -of real connections beside the conceptual ones. In other words, the -ideal principles which thinking discovers are too airy for the Dualist, -and he seeks, in addition, real principles with which to support them. - -Let us examine these real principles a little more closely. The -naïve man (Naïve Realist) regards the objects of sense-experience as -realities. The fact that his hands can grasp, and his eyes see, these -objects is for him sufficient guarantee of their reality. "Nothing -exists that cannot be perceived" is, in fact, the first axiom of -the naïve man; and it is held to be equally valid in its converse: -"Everything which is perceived exists." The best proof for this -assertion is the naïve man's belief in immortality and in ghosts. He -thinks of the soul as a fine kind of matter perceptible by the senses -which, in special circumstances, may actually become visible to the -ordinary man (belief in ghosts). - -In contrast with this, his real, world, the Naïve Realist regards -everything else, especially the world of ideas, as unreal, or "merely -ideal." What we add to objects by thinking is merely thoughts about -the objects. Thought adds nothing real to the percept. - -But it is not only with reference to the existence of things that the -naïve man regards perception as the sole guarantee of reality, but -also with reference to the existence of processes. A thing, according -to him, can act on another only when a force actually present to -perception issues from the one and acts upon the other. The older -physicists thought that very fine kinds of substances emanate from -the objects and penetrate through the sense-organs into the soul. The -actual perception of these substances is impossible only because -of the coarseness of our sense-organs relatively to the fineness of -these substances. In principle, the reason for attributing reality -to these substances was the same as that for attributing it to the -objects of the sensible world, viz., their kind of existence, which -was conceived to be analogous to that of perceptual reality. - -The self-contained being of ideas is not thought of by the naïve -mind as real in the same sense. An object conceived "merely in idea" -is regarded as a chimera until sense-perception can furnish proof -of its reality. In short, the naïve man demands, in addition to the -ideal evidence of his thinking, the real evidence of his senses. In -this need of the naïve man lies the ground for the origin of the -belief in revelation. The God whom we apprehend by thought remains -always merely our idea of God. The naïve consciousness demands that -God should manifest Himself in ways accessible to the senses. God -must appear in the flesh, and must attest his Godhead to our senses -by the changing of water into wine. - -Even knowledge itself is conceived by the naïve mind as a process -analogous to sense-perception. Things, it is thought, make an -impression on the mind, or send out copies of themselves which enter -through our senses, etc. - -What the naïve man can perceive with his senses he regards as real, -and what he cannot perceive (God, soul, knowledge, etc.) he regards -as analogous to what he can perceive. - -On the basis of Naïve Realism, science can consist only in an exact -description of the content of perception. Concepts are only means to -this end. They exist to provide ideal counterparts of percepts. With -the things themselves they have nothing to do. For the Naïve Realist -only the individual tulips, which we can see, are real. The universal -idea of tulip is to him an abstraction, the unreal thought-picture -which the mind constructs for itself out of the characteristics common -to all tulips. - -Naïve Realism, with its fundamental principle of the reality of all -percepts, contradicts experience, which teaches us that the content of -percepts is of a transitory nature. The tulip I see is real to-day; -in a year it will have vanished into nothingness. What persists is -the species "tulip." This species is, however, for the Naïve Realist -merely an idea, not a reality. Thus this theory of the world finds -itself in the paradoxical position of seeing its realities arise and -perish, while that which, by contrast with its realities, it regards -as unreal endures. Hence Naïve Realism is compelled to acknowledge the -existence of something ideal by the side of percepts. It must include -within itself entities which cannot be perceived by the senses. In -admitting them, it escapes contradicting itself by conceiving their -existence as analogous to that of objects of sense. Such hypothetical -realities are the invisible forces by means of which the objects of -sense-perception act on one another. Another such reality is heredity, -the effects of which survive the individual, and which is the reason -why from the individual a new being develops which is similar to -it, and by means of which the species is maintained. The soul, the -life-principle permeating the organic body, is another such reality -which the naïve mind is always found conceiving in analogy to realities -of sense-perception. And, lastly, the Divine Being, as conceived by the -naïve mind, is such a hypothetical entity. The Deity is thought of as -acting in a manner exactly corresponding to that which we can perceive -in man himself, i.e., the Deity is conceived anthropomorphically. - -Modern Physics traces sensations back to the movements of the -smallest particles of bodies and of an infinitely fine substance, -called ether. What we experience, e.g., as warmth is a movement of -the parts of a body which causes the warmth in the space occupied by -that body. Here again something imperceptible is conceived on the -analogy of what is perceptible. Thus, in terms of perception, the -analogon to the concept "body" is, say, the interior of a room, shut -in on all sides, in which elastic balls are moving in all directions, -impinging one on another, bouncing on and off the walls, etc. - -Without such assumptions the world of the Naïve Realist would collapse -into a disconnected chaos of percepts, without mutual relations, -and having no unity within itself. It is clear, however, that Naïve -Realism can make these assumptions only by contradicting itself. If -it would remain true to its fundamental principle, that only what -is perceived is real, then it ought not to assume a reality where -it perceives nothing. The imperceptible forces of which perceptible -things are the bearers are, in fact, illegitimate hypotheses from -the standpoint of Naïve Realism. But because Naïve Realism knows no -other realities, it invests its hypothetical forces with perceptual -content. It thus transfers a form of existence (the existence of -percepts) to a sphere where the only means of making any assertion -concerning such existence, viz., sense-perception, is lacking. - -This self-contradictory theory leads to Metaphysical Realism. The -latter constructs, beside the perceptible reality, an imperceptible -one which it conceives on the analogy of the former. Metaphysical -Realism is, therefore, of necessity Dualistic. - -Wherever the Metaphysical Realist observes a relation between -perceptible things (mutual approach through movement, the -entrance of an object into consciousness, etc.), there he posits a -reality. However, the relation of which he becomes aware cannot be -perceived but only expressed by means of thought. The ideal relation -is thereupon arbitrarily assimilated to something perceptible. Thus, -according to this theory, the world is composed of the objects of -perception which are in ceaseless flux, arising and disappearing, -and of imperceptible forces by which the perceptible objects are -produced, and which are permanent. - -Metaphysical Realism is a self-contradictory mixture of Naïve Realism -and Idealism. Its forces are imperceptible entities endowed with the -qualities proper to percepts. The Metaphysical Realist has made up -his mind to acknowledge in addition to the sphere for the existence -of which he has an instrument of knowledge in sense-perception, -the existence of another sphere for which this instrument fails, and -which can be known only by means of thought. But he cannot make up -his mind at the same time to acknowledge that the mode of existence -which thought reveals, viz., the concept (or idea), has equal rights -with percepts. If we are to avoid the contradiction of imperceptible -percepts, we must admit that, for us, the relations which thought -traces between percepts can have no other mode of existence than that -of concepts. If one rejects the untenable part of Metaphysical Realism, -there remains the concept of the world as the aggregate of percepts -and their conceptual (ideal) relations. Metaphysical Realism, then, -merges itself in a view of the world according to which the principle -of perceptibility holds for percepts, and that of conceivability -for the relations between the percepts. This view of the world -has no room, in addition to the perceptual and conceptual worlds, -for a third sphere in which both principles, the so-called "real" -principle and the "ideal" principle, are simultaneously valid. - -When the Metaphysical Realist asserts that, beside the ideal relation -between the perceived object and the perceiving subject, there -must be a real relation between the percept as "thing-in-itself" -and the subject as "thing-in-itself" (the so-called individual -mind), he is basing his assertion on the false assumption of a real -process, imperceptible but analogous to the processes in the world -of percepts. Further, when the Metaphysical Realist asserts that we -stand in a conscious ideal relation to our world of percepts, but -that to the real world we can have only a dynamic (force) relation, -he repeats the mistake we have already criticised. We can talk of a -dynamic relation only within the world of percepts (in the sphere of -the sense of touch), but not outside that world. - -Let us call the view which we have just characterised, and into -which Metaphysical Realism merges when it discards its contradictory -elements, Monism, because it combines one-sided Realism and Idealism -into a higher unity. - -For Naïve Realism, the real world is an aggregate of percepts; for -Metaphysical Realism, reality belongs not only to percepts but also to -imperceptible forces; Monism replaces forces by ideal relations which -are supplied by thought. These relations are the laws of nature. A law -of nature is nothing but the conceptual expression for the connection -of certain percepts. - -Monism is never called upon to ask whether there are any principles of -explanation for reality other than percepts and concepts. The Monist -knows that in the whole realm of the real there is no occasion for -this question. In the perceptual world, as immediately apprehended, he -sees one-half of reality; in the union of this world with the world of -concepts he finds full reality. The Metaphysical Realist might object -that, relatively to our organisation, our knowledge may be complete in -itself, that no part may be lacking, but that we do not know how the -world appears to a mind organised differently from our own. To this -the Monist will reply, Maybe there are intelligences other than human; -and maybe also that their percepts are different from ours, if they -have perception at all. But this is irrelevant to me for the following -reasons. Through my perceptions, i.e., through this specifically human -mode of perception, I, as subject, am confronted with the object. The -nexus of things is thereby broken. The subject reconstructs the nexus -by means of thought. In doing so it re-inserts itself into the context -of the world as a whole. As it is only through the Self, as subject, -that the whole appears rent in two between percept and concept, the -reunion of those two factors will give us complete knowledge. For -beings with a different perceptual world (e.g., if they had twice -our number of sense-organs) the nexus would appear broken in another -place, and the reconstruction would accordingly have to take a form -specifically adapted to such beings. The question concerning the -limits of knowledge troubles only Naïve and Metaphysical Realism, -both of which see in the contents of mind only ideal representations -of the real world. For, to these theories, whatever falls outside -the subject is something absolute, a self-contained whole, and -the subject's mental content is a copy which is wholly external to -this absolute. The completeness of knowledge depends on the greater -or lesser degree of resemblance between the representation and the -absolute object. A being with fewer senses than man will perceive less -of the world, one with more senses will perceive more. The former's -knowledge will, therefore, be less complete than the latter's. - -For Monism, the situation is different. The point where the unity of -the world appears to be rent asunder into subject and object depends -on the organisation of the percipient. The object is not absolute -but merely relative to the nature of the subject. The bridging of the -gap, therefore, can take place only in the quite specific way which -is characteristic of the human subject. As soon as the Self, which in -perception is set over against the world, is again re-inserted into the -world-nexus by constructive thought, all further questioning ceases, -having been but a result of the separation. - -A differently constituted being would have a differently constituted -knowledge. Our own knowledge suffices to answer the questions which -result from our own mental constitution. - -Metaphysical Realism must ask, What is it that gives us our -percepts? What is it that stimulates the subject? - -Monism holds that percepts are determined by the subject. But -in thought the subject has, at the same time, the instrument for -transcending this determination of which it is itself the author. - -The Metaphysical Realist is faced by a further difficulty when he -seeks to explain the similarity of the world-views of different human -individuals. He has to ask himself, How is it that my theory of the -world, built up out of subjectively determined percepts and out of -concepts, turns out to be the same as that which another individual -is also building up out of these same two subjective factors? How, in -any case, is it possible for me to argue from my own subjective view -of the world to that of another human being? The Metaphysical Realist -thinks he can infer the similarity of the subjective world-views of -different human beings from their ability to get on with one another -in practical life. From this similarity of world-views he infers -further the likeness to one another of individual minds, meaning by -"individual mind" the "I-in-itself" underlying each subject. - -We have here an inference from a number of effects to the character -of the underlying causes. We believe that after we have observed -a sufficiently large number of instances, we know the connection -sufficiently to know how the inferred causes will act in other -instances. Such an inference is called an inductive inference. We -shall be obliged to modify its results, if further observation yields -some unexpected fact, because the character of our conclusion is, -after all, determined only by the particular details of our actual -observations. The Metaphysical Realist asserts that this knowledge -of causes, though restricted by these conditions, is quite sufficient -for practical life. - -Inductive inference is the fundamental method of modern Metaphysical -Realism. At one time it was thought that out of concepts we could -evolve something that would no longer be a concept. It was thought that -the metaphysical reals, which Metaphysical Realism after all requires, -could be known by means of concepts. This method of philosophising -is now out of date. Instead it is thought that from a sufficiently -large number of perceptual facts we can infer the character of the -thing-in-itself which lies behind these facts. Formerly it was from -concepts, now it is from percepts, that the Realist seeks to evolve -the metaphysically real. Because concepts are before the mind in -transparent clearness, it was thought that we might deduce from them -the metaphysically real with absolute certainty. Percepts are not -given with the same transparent clearness. Each fresh one is a little -different from others of the same kind which preceded it. In principle, -therefore, anything inferred from past experience is somewhat modified -by each subsequent experience. The character of the metaphysically real -thus obtained can therefore be only relatively true, for it is open -to correction by further instances. The character of Von Hartmann's -Metaphysics depends on this methodological principle. The motto on -the title-page of his first important book is, "Speculative results -gained by the inductive method of Science." - -The form which the Metaphysical Realist at the present day gives to his -things-in-themselves is obtained by inductive inferences. Consideration -of the process of knowledge has convinced him of the existence of an -objectively-real world-nexus, over and above the subjective world which -we know by means of percepts and concepts. The nature of this reality -he thinks he can determine by inductive inferences from his percepts. - - - - -ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -The unprejudiced study of experience, in perceiving and conceiving, -such as we have attempted to describe it in the preceding chapters, -is liable to be interfered with again and again by certain ideas which -spring from the soil of natural science. Thus, taking our stand on -science, we say that the eye perceives in the spectrum colours from -red to violet. But beyond violet there lie rays within the compass -of the spectrum to which corresponds, not a colour perceived by the -eye, but a chemical effect. Similarly, beyond the rays which make -us perceive red, there are rays which have only heat effects. These -and similar phenomena lead, on reflection, to the view that the range -of man's perceptual world is defined by the range of his senses, and -that he would perceive a very different world if he had additional, or -altogether different, senses. Those who like to indulge in far-roaming -fancies in this direction, for which the brilliant discoveries -of recent scientific research provide a highly tempting occasion, -may well be led to confess that nothing enters the field of man's -observation except what can affect his senses, as these have been -determined by his whole organisation. Man has no right to regard -his percepts, limited as these are by his organisation, as in any -way a standard to which reality must conform. Every new sense would -confront him with a different picture of reality. Within its proper -limits, this is a wholly justified view. But if anyone lets himself -be confused by this view in the unprejudiced study of the relation -of percept and concept, as set forth in these chapters, he blocks -the path for himself to a knowledge of man and the world which is -rooted in reality. The experience of the essential nature of thought, -i.e., the active construction of the world of concepts, is something -wholly different from the experience of a perceptible object through -the senses. Whatever additional senses man might have, not one would -give him reality, if his thinking did not organise with its concepts -whatever he perceived by means of such a sense. Every sense, whatever -its kind, provided only it is organised by thought, enables man to -live right in the real. The fancy-picture of other perceptual worlds, -made possible by other senses, has nothing to do with the problem of -how it is that man stands in the midst of reality. We must clearly -understand that every perceptual picture of the world owes its form -to the physical organisation of the percipient, but that only the -percepts which have been organised by the living labour of thought -lead us into reality. Fanciful speculations concerning the way -the world would appear to other than human souls, can give us no -occasion to want to understand man's relation to the world. Such a -desire comes only with the recognition that every percept presents -only a part of the reality it contains, and that, consequently, -it leads us away from its own proper reality. This recognition is -supplemented by the further one that thinking leads us into the part -of reality which the percept conceals in itself. Another difficulty -in the way of the unprejudiced study of the relation we have here -described, between percept and concept as elaborated by thought, may -be met with occasionally, when in the field of physics the necessity -arises of speaking, not of immediately perceptible elements, but -of non-perceptible magnitudes, such as, e.g., lines of electric or -magnetic force. It may seem as if the elements of reality of which -physicists speak, had no connection either with what is perceptible, -or with the concepts which active thinking has elaborated. Yet such -a view would depend on self-deception. The main point is that all -the results of physical research, except illegitimate hypotheses -which ought to be excluded, have been gained through perceiving and -conceiving. Entities which are seemingly non-perceptible, are referred -by the physicists' sound instinct for knowledge to the field in which -actual percepts lie, and they are dealt with in thought by means of the -concepts which are commonly applied in this field. The magnitudes in -a field of electric or magnetic force are reached, in their essence, -by no other cognitive process than the one which connects percept and -concept.--An increase or a modification of human senses would yield -a different perceptual picture, an enrichment or a modification of -human experience. But genuine knowledge could be gained out of this -new experience only through the mutual co-operation of concept and -percept. The deepening of knowledge depends on the powers of intuition -which express themselves in thinking (see page 90). Intuition may, -in those experiences in which thinking expresses itself, dive -either into deeper or shallower levels of reality. An expansion of -the perceptual picture may supply stimuli for, and thus indirectly -promote, this diving of intuition. But this diving into the depth, -through which we attain reality, ought never to be confused with the -contrast between a wider and a narrower perceptual picture, which -always contains only half of reality, as that is conditioned by the -structure of the knower's organism. Those who do not lose themselves -in abstractions will understand how for a knowledge of human nature -the fact is relevant, that physics must infer the existence, in the -field of percepts, of elements to which no sense is adapted as it is to -colour or sound. Human nature, taken concretely, is determined not only -by what, in virtue of his physical organisation, man opposes to himself -as immediate percept, but also by all else which he excludes from -this immediate percept. Just as life needs unconscious sleep alongside -of conscious waking experience, so man's experience of himself needs -over and above the sphere of his sense-perception another sphere--and -a much bigger one--of non-perceptible elements belonging to the same -field from which the percepts of the senses come. Implicitly all this -was already laid down in the original argument of this book. The -author adds the present amplification of the argument, because he -has found by experience that some readers have not read attentively -enough. It is to be remembered, too, that the idea of perception, -developed in this book, is not to be confused with the idea of external -sense-perception which is but a special case of the former. The reader -will gather from what has preceded, but even more from what will be -expounded later, that everything is here taken as "percept" which -sensuously or spiritually enters into man's experience, so long as it -has not yet been seized upon by the actively constructed concept. No -"senses," as we ordinarily understand the term, are necessary in -order to have percepts of a psychical or spiritual kind. It may be -urged that this extension of ordinary usage is illegitimate. But the -extension is absolutely indispensable, unless we are to be prevented -by the current sense of a word from enlarging our knowledge of certain -realms of facts. If we use "percept" only as meaning "sense-percept," -we shall never advance beyond sense-percepts to a concept fit for the -purposes of knowledge. It is sometimes necessary to enlarge a concept -in order that it may get its appropriate meaning within a narrower -field. Again, it is at times necessary to add to the original content -of a concept, in order that the original thought may be justified -or, perhaps, readjusted. Thus we find it said here in this book: -"An idea is nothing but an individualised concept." It has been -objected that this is a solecism. But this terminology is necessary -if we are to find out what an idea really is. How can we expect any -progress in knowledge, if every one who finds himself compelled to -readjust concepts, is to be met by the objection: "This is a solecism"? - - - - - - - - -THE REALITY OF FREEDOM - - -VIII - -THE FACTORS OF LIFE - - -Let us recapitulate the results gained in the previous chapters. The -world appears to man as a multiplicity, as an aggregate of separate -entities. He himself is one of these entities, a thing among -things. Of this structure of the world we say simply that it is -given, and inasmuch as we do not construct it by conscious activity, -but simply find it, we say that it consists of percepts. Within this -world of percepts we perceive ourselves. This percept of Self would -remain merely one among many other percepts, did it not give rise to -something which proves capable of connecting all percepts one with -another and, therefore, the aggregate of all other percepts with the -percept of Self. This something which emerges is no longer a mere -percept; neither is it, like percepts, simply given. It is produced -by our activity. It appears, in the first instance, bound up with -what each of us perceives as his Self. In its inner significance, -however, it transcends the Self. It adds to the separate percepts -ideal determinations, which, however, are related to one another, -and which are grounded in a whole. What self-perception yields -is ideally determined by this something in the same way as all -other percepts, and placed as subject, or "I," over against the -objects. This something is thought, and the ideal determinations -are the concepts and ideas. Thought, therefore, first manifests -itself in connection with the percept of self. But it is not merely -subjective, for the Self characterises itself as subject only with -the help of thought. This relation of the Self to itself by means -of thought is one of the fundamental determinations of our personal -lives. Through it we lead a purely ideal existence. By means of it -we are aware of ourselves as thinking beings. This determination of -our lives would remain a purely conceptual (logical) one, if it were -not supplemented by other determinations of our Selves. Our lives -would then exhaust themselves in establishing ideal connections -between percepts themselves, and between them and ourselves. If we -call this establishment of an ideal relation an "act of cognition," -and the resulting condition of ourselves "knowledge," then, assuming -the above supposition to be true, we should have to consider ourselves -as beings who merely apprehend or know. - -The supposition is, however, untrue. We relate percepts to ourselves -not merely ideally, through concepts, but also, as we have already -seen, through feeling. In short, the content of our lives is not merely -conceptual. The Naïve Realist holds that the personality actually -lives more genuinely in the life of feeling than in the purely ideal -activity of knowledge. From his point of view he is quite right in -interpreting the matter in this way. Feeling plays on the subjective -side exactly the part which percepts play on the objective side. From -the principle of Naïve Realism, that everything is real which can be -perceived, it follows that feeling is the guarantee of the reality of -one's own personality. Monism, however, must bestow on feeling the -same supplementation which it considers necessary for percepts, if -these are to stand to us for reality in its full nature. For Monism, -feeling is an incomplete reality, which, in the form in which it -first appears to us, lacks as yet its second factor, the concept or -idea. This is why, in actual life, feelings, like percepts, appear -prior to knowledge. At first, we have merely a feeling of existence; -and it is only in the course of our gradual development, that we -attain to the point at which the concept of Self emerges from within -the blind mass of feelings which fills our existence. However, what -for us does not appear until later, is from the first indissolubly -bound up with our feelings. This is how the naïve man comes to believe -that in feeling he grasps existence immediately, in knowledge only -mediately. The development of the affective life, therefore, appears -to him more important than anything else. Not until he has grasped -the unity of the world through feeling will he believe that he has -comprehended it. He attempts to make feeling rather than thought -the instrument of knowledge. Now a feeling is entirely individual, -something equivalent to a percept. Hence a philosophy of feeling -makes a cosmic principle out of something which has significance only -within my own personality. Anyone who holds this view attempts to -infuse his own self into the whole world. What the Monist strives to -grasp by means of concepts the philosopher of feeling tries to attain -through feeling, and he looks on his own felt union with objects as -more immediate than knowledge. - -The tendency just described, the philosophy of feeling, is -Mysticism. The error in this view is that it seeks to possess by -immediate experience what must be known, that it seeks to develop -feeling, which is individual, into a universal principle. - -A feeling is a purely individual activity. It is the relation of -the external world to the subject, in so far as this relation finds -expression in a purely subjective experience. - -There is yet another expression of human personality. The Self, through -thought, takes part in the universal world-life. Through thought it -establishes purely ideal (conceptual) relations between percepts and -itself, and between itself and percepts. In feeling, it has immediate -experience of the relation of objects to itself as subject. In will, -the opposite is the case. In volition, we are concerned once more with -a percept, viz., that of the individual relation of the self to what -is objective. Whatever in the act of will is not an ideal factor, -is just as much mere object of perception as is any object in the -external world. - -Nevertheless, the Naïve Realist believes here again that he has -before him something far more real than can ever be attained by -thought. He sees in the will an element in which he is immediately -aware of an activity, a causation, in contrast with thought which -afterwards grasps this activity in conceptual form. On this view, the -realisation by the Self of its will is a process which is experienced -immediately. The adherent of this philosophy believes that in the will -he has really got hold of one end of reality. Whereas he can follow -other occurrences only from the outside by means of perception, -he is confident that in his will he experiences a real process -quite immediately. The mode of existence presented to him by the -will within himself becomes for him the fundamental reality of the -universe. His own will appears to him as a special case of the general -world-process; hence the latter is conceived as a universal will. The -will becomes the principle of reality just as, in Mysticism, feeling -becomes the principle of knowledge. This kind of theory is called -Voluntarism (Thelism). It makes something which can be experienced -only individually the dominant factor of the world. - -Voluntarism can as little be called scientific as can Mysticism. For -both assert that the conceptual interpretation of the world is -inadequate. Both demand, in addition to a principle of being which is -ideal, also a principle which is real. But as perception is our only -means of apprehending these so-called real principles, the assertion -of Mysticism and Voluntarism coincides with the view that we have -two sources of knowledge, viz., thought and perception, the latter -finding individual expression as will and feeling. Since the immediate -experiences which flow from the one source cannot be directly absorbed -into the thoughts which flow from the other, perception (immediate -experience) and thought remain side by side, without any higher -form of experience to mediate between them. Beside the conceptual -principle to which we attain by means of knowledge, there is also -a real principle which must be immediately experienced. In other -words, Mysticism and Voluntarism are both forms of Naïve Realism, -because they subscribe to the doctrine that the immediately perceived -(experienced) is real. Compared with Naïve Realism in its primitive -form, they are guilty of the yet further inconsistency of accepting -one definite form of perception (feeling, respectively will) as the -exclusive means of knowing reality. Yet they can do this only so -long as they cling to the general principle that everything that is -perceived is real. They ought, therefore, to attach an equal value -to external perception for purposes of knowledge. - -Voluntarism turns into Metaphysical Realism, when it asserts the -existence of will also in those spheres of reality in which will can no -longer, as in the individual subject, be immediately experienced. It -assumes hypothetically that a principle holds outside subjective -experience, for the existence of which, nevertheless, subjective -experience is the sole criterion. As a form of Metaphysical Realism, -Voluntarism is open to the criticism developed in the preceding -chapter, a criticism which makes it necessary to overcome the -contradictory element in every form of Metaphysical Realism, and to -recognise that the will is a universal world-process only in so far -as it is ideally related to the rest of the world. - - - - -ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -The difficulty of seizing the essential nature of thinking by -observation lies in this, that it has generally eluded the -introspecting mind all too easily by the time that the mind -tries to bring it into the focus of attention. Nothing but the -lifeless abstract, the corpse of living thought, then remains for -inspection. When we consider only this abstract, we find it hard, by -contrast, to resist yielding to the mysticism of feeling, or, again, -to the metaphysics of will, both of which are "full of life." We -are tempted to regard it as odd that anyone should want to seize -the essence of reality in "mere thoughts." But if we once succeed -in really holding fast the living essence of thinking, we learn to -understand that the self-abandonment to feelings, or the intuiting -of the will, cannot even be compared with the inward wealth of this -life of thinking, which we experience as within itself ever at rest, -yet at the same time ever in movement. Still less is it possible -to rank will and feeling above thinking. It is owing precisely to -this wealth, to this inward abundance of experience, that the image -of thinking which presents itself to our ordinary attitude of mind, -should appear lifeless and abstract. No other activity of the human -mind is so easily misapprehended as thinking. Will and feeling still -fill the mind with warmth even when we live through them again in -memory. Thinking all too readily leaves us cold in recollection; it is -as if the life of the mind had dried out. But this is really nothing -but the strongly marked shadow thrown by its luminous, warm nature -penetrating deeply into the phenomena of the world. This penetration -is effected by the activity of thinking with a spontaneous outpouring -of power--a power of spiritual love. There is no room here for the -objection that thus to perceive love in the activity of thinking -is to endow thinking with a feeling and a love which are not part -of it. This objection is, in truth, a confirmation of the view here -advocated. If we turn towards the essential nature of thinking, we find -in it both feeling and will, and both these in their most profoundly -real forms. If we turn away from thinking and towards "mere" feeling -and will, these lose for us their genuine reality. If we are willing -to make of thinking an intuitive experience, we can do justice, also, -to experiences of the type of feeling and will. But the mysticism of -feeling and the metaphysics of will do not know how to do justice -to the penetration of reality which partakes at once of intuition -and of thought. They conclude but too readily that they themselves -are rooted in reality, but that the intuitive thinker, untouched by -feeling, blind to reality, forms out of "abstract thoughts" a shadowy, -chilly picture of the world. - - - - - - - - -IX - -THE IDEA OF FREEDOM - - -The concept "tree" is conditioned for our knowledge by the percept -"tree." There is only one determinate concept which I can select from -the general system of concepts and apply to a given percept. The -connection of concept and percept is mediately and objectively -determined by thought in conformity with the percept. The connection -between a percept and its concept is recognised after the act of -perception, but the relevance of the one to the other is determined -by the character of each. - -Very different is the result when we consider knowledge, and, -more particularly, the relation of man to the world which occurs -in knowledge. In the preceding chapters the attempt has been made -to show that an unprejudiced examination of this relation is able to -throw light on its nature. A correct understanding of this examination -leads to the conclusion that thinking may be intuitively apprehended -in its unique, self-contained nature. Those who find it necessary, -for the explanation of thinking as such, to invoke something else, -e.g., physical brain-processes, or unconscious spiritual processes -lying behind the conscious thinking which they observe, fail to -grasp the facts which an unprejudiced examination yields. When we -observe our thinking, we live during the observation immediately -within the essence of a spiritual, self-sustaining activity. Indeed, -we may even affirm that if we want to grasp the essential nature of -Spirit in the form in which it immediately presents itself to man, -we need but look at our own self-sustaining thinking. - -For the study of thinking two things coincide which elsewhere must -always appear apart, viz., concept and percept. If we fail to see this, -we shall be unable to regard the concepts which we have elaborated in -response to percepts as anything but shadowy copies of these percepts, -and we shall take the percepts as presenting to us reality as it really -is. We shall, further, build up for ourselves a metaphysical world -after the pattern of the world of percepts. We shall, each according -to his habitual ideas, call this world a world of atoms, or of will, -or of unconscious spirit, and so on. And we shall fail to notice that -all the time we have been doing nothing but erecting hypothetically a -metaphysical world modeled on the world we perceive. But if we clearly -apprehend what thinking consists in, we shall recognise that percepts -present to us only a portion of reality, and that the complementary -portion which alone imparts to reality its full character as real, -is experienced by us in the organisation of percepts by thought. We -shall regard all thought, not as a shadowy copy of reality, but as a -self-sustaining spiritual essence. We shall be able to say of it, that -it is revealed to us in consciousness through intuition. Intuition -is the purely spiritual conscious experience of a purely spiritual -content. It is only through intuition that we can grasp the essence -of thinking. - -To win through, by means of unprejudiced observation, to the -recognition of this truth of the intuitive essence of thinking requires -an effort. But without this effort we shall not succeed in clearing -the way for a theory of the psycho-physical organisation of man. We -recognise that this organisation can produce no effect whatever on -the essential nature of thinking. At first sight this seems to be -contradicted by patent and obvious facts. For ordinary experience, -human thinking occurs only in connection with, and by means of, such -an organisation. This dependence on psycho-physical organisation is -so prominent that its true bearing can be appreciated by us only if we -recognise, that in the essential nature of thinking this organisation -plays no part whatever. Once we appreciate this, we can no longer -fail to notice how peculiar is the relation of human organisation to -thought. For this organisation contributes nothing to the essential -nature of thought, but recedes whenever thought becomes active. It -suspends its own activity, it yields ground. And the ground thus set -free is occupied by thought. The essence which is active in thought has -a two-fold function: first it restricts the human organisation in its -own activity; next, it steps into the place of that organisation. Yes, -even the former, the restriction of human organisation, is an effect -of the activity of thought, and more particularly of that part of -it which prepares the manifestation of thinking. This explains the -sense in which thinking has its counterpart in the organisation of -the body. Once we perceive this, we can no longer misapprehend the -significance for thinking of this physical counterpart. When we walk -over soft ground our feet leave deep tracks in the soil. We shall -not be tempted to say that the forces of the ground, from below, -have formed these tracks. We shall not attribute to these forces any -share in the production of the tracks. Just so, if with open minds -we observe the essential nature of thinking, we shall not attribute -any share in that nature to the traces in the physical organism which -thinking produces in preparing its manifestation through the body. [3] - -An important question, however, confronts us here. If human -organisation has no part in the essential nature of thinking, what -is its function within the whole nature of man? Well, the effects -of thinking upon this organisation have no bearing upon the essence -of thinking, but they have a bearing upon the origin of the "I," or -Ego-consciousness, through thinking. Thinking, in its unique character, -constitutes the real Ego, but it does not constitute, as such, the -Ego-consciousness. To see this we have but to study thinking with an -open mind. The Ego is to be found in thinking. The Ego-consciousness -arises through the traces which, in the sense above explained, the -activity of thinking impresses upon our general consciousness. The -Ego-consciousness thus arises through the physical organisation. This -view must not, however, be taken to imply that the Ego-consciousness, -once it has arisen, remains dependent on the physical organisation. On -the contrary, once it exists it is taken up into thought and shares -henceforth thought's spiritual self-subsistence. - -The Ego-consciousness is built upon human organisation. The latter -is the source of all acts of will. Following out the direction of -the preceding exposition, we can gain insight into the connection of -thought, conscious Ego, and act of will, only by studying first how -an act of will issues from human organisation. [4] - -In a particular act of will we must distinguish two factors: the -motive and the spring of action. The motive is a factor of the nature -of concept or idea; the spring of action is the factor in will which -is directly determined in the human organisation. The conceptual -factor, or motive, is the momentary determining cause of an act -of will; the spring of action is the permanent determining factor -in the individual. The motive of an act of will can be only a pure -concept, or else a concept with a definite relation to perception, -i.e., an idea. Universal and individual concepts (ideas) become -motives of will by influencing the human individual and determining -him to action in a particular direction. One and the same concept, -however, or one and the same idea, influence different individuals -differently. They determine different men to different actions. An -act of will is, therefore, not merely the outcome of a concept or -an idea, but also of the individual make-up of human beings. This -individual make-up we will call, following Eduard von Hartmann, the -"characterological disposition." The manner in which concept and idea -act on the characterological disposition of a man gives to his life -a definite moral or ethical stamp. - -The characterological disposition consists of the more or less -permanent content of the individual's life, that is, of his habitual -ideas and feelings. Whether an idea which enters my mind at this -moment stimulates me to an act of will or not, depends on its -relation to my other ideal contents, and also to my peculiar modes of -feeling. My ideal content, in turn, is conditioned by the sum total -of those concepts which have, in the course of my individual life, -come in contact with percepts, that is, have become ideas. This, -again, depends on my greater or lesser capacity for intuition, -and on the range of my perception, that is, on the subjective and -objective factors of my experiences, on the structure of my mind and -on my environment. My affective life more especially determines my -characterological disposition. Whether I shall make a certain idea -or concept the motive for action will depend on whether it gives me -pleasure or pain. - -These are the factors which we have to consider in an act of will. The -immediately present idea or concept, which becomes the motive, -determines the end or the purpose of my will; my characterological -disposition determines me to direct my activity towards this end. The -idea of taking a walk in the next half-hour determines the end of -my action. But this idea is raised to the level of a motive only if -it meets with a suitable characterological disposition, that is, if -during my past life I have formed the ideas of the wholesomeness of -walking and the value of health; and, further, if the idea of walking -is accompanied by a feeling of pleasure. - -We must, therefore, distinguish (1) the possible subjective -dispositions which are likely to turn given ideas and concepts into -motives, and (2) the possible ideas and concepts which are capable -of so influencing my characterological disposition that an act of -will results. The former are for morality the springs of action, -the latter its ends. - -The springs of action in the moral life can be discovered by analysing -the elements of which individual life is composed. - -The first level of individual life is that of perception, more -particularly sense-perception. This is the stage of our individual -lives in which a percept translates itself into will immediately, -without the intervention of either a feeling or a concept. The spring -of action here involved may be called simply instinct. Our lower, -purely animal, needs (hunger, sexual intercourse, etc.) find their -satisfaction in this way. The main characteristic of instinctive -life is the immediacy with which the percept starts off the act -of will. This kind of determination of the will, which belongs -originally only to the life of the lower senses, may, however, -become extended also to the percepts of the higher senses. We may -react to the percept of a certain event in the external world without -reflecting on what we do, and without any special feeling connecting -itself with the percept. We have examples of this especially in -our ordinary conventional intercourse with men. The spring of this -kind of action is called tact or moral good taste. The more often -such immediate reactions to a percept occur, the more the agent will -prove himself able to act purely under the guidance of tact; that is, -tact becomes his characterological disposition. - -The second level of human life is feeling. Definite feelings accompany -the percepts of the external world. These feelings may become springs -of action. When I see a hungry man, my pity for him may become the -spring of my action. Such feelings, for example, are modesty, pride, -sense of honour, humility, remorse, pity, revenge, gratitude, piety, -loyalty, love, and duty. [5] - -The third and last level of life is to have thoughts and ideas. An -idea or a concept may become the motive of an action through mere -reflection. Ideas become motives because, in the course of my life, -I regularly connect certain aims of my will with percepts which recur -again and again in a more or less modified form. Hence it is that, with -men who are not wholly without experience, the occurrence of certain -percepts is always accompanied also by the consciousness of ideas of -actions, which they have themselves carried out in similar cases or -which they have seen others carry out. These ideas float before their -minds as determining models in all subsequent decisions; they become -parts of their characterological disposition. We may give the name of -practical experience to the spring of action just described. Practical -experience merges gradually into purely tactful behaviour. That -happens, when definite typical pictures of actions have become so -closely connected in our minds with ideas of certain situations in -life, that, in any given instance, we omit all deliberation based on -experience and pass immediately from the percept to the action. - -The highest level of individual life is that of conceptual thought -without reference to any definite perceptual content. We determine -the content of a concept through pure intuition on the basis of an -ideal system. Such a concept contains, at first, no reference to any -definite percepts. When an act of will comes about under the influence -of a concept which refers to a percept, i.e., under the influence of -an idea, then it is the percept which determines our action indirectly -by way of the concept. But when we act under the influence of pure -intuitions, the spring of our action is pure thought. As it is the -custom in philosophy to call pure thought "reason," we may perhaps -be justified in giving the name of practical reason to the spring of -action characteristic of this level of life. The clearest account of -this spring of action has been given by Kreyenbühl (Philosophische -Monatshefte, vol. xviii, No. 3). In my opinion his article on this -subject is one of the most important contributions to present-day -philosophy, more especially to Ethics. Kreyenbühl calls the spring -of action, of which we are treating, the practical a priori i.e., -a spring of action issuing immediately from my intuition. - -It is clear that such a spring of action can no longer be counted in -the strictest sense as part of the characterological disposition. For -what is here effective in me as a spring of action is no longer -something purely individual, but the ideal, and hence universal, -content of my intuition. As soon as I regard this content as the -valid basis and starting-point of an action, I pass over into willing, -irrespective of whether the concept was already in my mind beforehand, -or whether it only occurs to me immediately before the action, that is, -irrespective of whether it was present in the form of a disposition -in me or not. - -A real act of will results only when a present impulse to action, -in the form of a concept or idea, acts on the characterological -disposition. Such an impulse thereupon becomes the motive of the will. - -The motives of moral conduct are ideas and concepts. There are -Moralists who see in feeling also a motive of morality; they assert, -e.g., that the end of moral conduct is to secure the greatest possible -quantity of pleasure for the agent. Pleasure itself, however, can -never be a motive; at best only the idea of pleasure can act as -motive. The idea of a future pleasure, but not the feeling itself, -can act on my characterological disposition. For the feeling does not -yet exist in the moment of action; on the contrary, it has first to -be produced by the action. - -The idea of one's own or another's well-being is, however, rightly -regarded as a motive of the will. The principle of producing the -greatest quantity of pleasure for oneself through one's action, that -is, to attain individual happiness, is called Egoism. The attainment -of this individual happiness is sought either by thinking ruthlessly -only of one's own good, and striving to attain it even at the cost -of the happiness of other individuals (Pure Egoism), or by promoting -the good of others, either because one anticipates indirectly a -favourable influence on one's own happiness through the happiness -of others, or because one fears to endanger one's own interest by -injuring others (Morality of Prudence). The special content of the -egoistical principle of morality will depend on the ideas which we form -of what constitutes our own, or others', good. A man will determine -the content of his egoistical striving in accordance with what he -regards as one of life's good things (luxury, hope of happiness, -deliverance from different evils, etc.). - -Further, the purely conceptual content of an action is to be regarded -as yet another kind of motive. This content has no reference, like the -idea of one's own pleasure, solely to the particular action, but to -the deduction of an action from a system of moral principles. These -moral principles, in the form of abstract concepts, may guide the -individual's moral life without his worrying himself about the origin -of his concepts. In that case, we feel merely the moral necessity of -submitting to a moral concept which, in the form of law, controls -our actions. The justification of this necessity we leave to those -who demand from us moral subjection, that is, to those whose moral -authority over us we acknowledge (the head of the family, the state, -social custom, the authority of the church, divine revelation). We -meet with a special kind of these moral principles when the law is -not proclaimed to us by an external authority, but comes from our own -selves (moral autonomy). In this case we believe that we hear the -voice, to which we have to submit ourselves, in our own souls. The -name for this voice is conscience. - -It is a great moral advance when a man no longer takes as the motive -of his action the commands of an external or internal authority, but -tries to understand the reason why a given maxim of action ought to be -effective as a motive in him. This is the advance from morality based -on authority to action from moral insight. At this level of morality, -a man will try to discover the demands of the moral life, and will -let his action be determined by this knowledge. Such demands are (1) -the greatest possible happiness of humanity as a whole purely for its -own sake, (2) the progress of civilisation, or the moral development -of mankind towards ever greater perfection, (3) the realisation of -individual moral ends conceived by an act of pure intuition. - -The greatest possible happiness of humanity as a whole will naturally -be differently conceived by different people. The above-mentioned maxim -does not imply any definite idea of this happiness, but rather means -that every one who acknowledges this principle strives to do all that, -in his opinion, most promotes the good of the whole of humanity. - -The progress of civilisation is seen to be a special application of -the moral principle just mentioned, at any rate for those to whom the -goods which civilisation produces bring feelings of pleasure. However, -they will have to pay the price of progress in the destruction and -annihilation of many things which also contribute to the happiness -of humanity. It is, however, also possible that some men look upon -the progress of civilisation as a moral necessity, quite apart from -the feelings of pleasure which it brings. If so, the progress of -civilisation will be a new moral principle for them, different from -the previous one. - -Both the principle of the public good, and that of the progress of -civilisation, alike depend on the way in which we apply the content -of our moral ideas to particular experiences (percepts). The highest -principle of morality which we can conceive, however, is that which -contains, to start with, no such reference to particular experiences, -but which springs from the source of pure intuition and does not -seek until later any connection with percepts, i.e., with life. The -determination of what ought to be willed issues here from a point of -view very different from that of the previous two principles. Whoever -accepts the principle of the public good will in all his actions ask -first what his ideals contribute to this public good. The upholder of -the progress of civilisation as the principle of morality will act -similarly. There is, however, a still higher mode of conduct which, -in a given case, does not start from any single limited moral ideal, -but which sees a certain value in all moral principles, always asking -whether this or that principle is more important in a particular -case. It may happen that a man considers in certain circumstances -the promotion of the public good, in others that of the progress of -civilisation, and in yet others the furthering of his own private good, -to be the right course, and makes that the motive of his action. But -when all other grounds of determination take second place, then we -rely, in the first place, on conceptual intuition itself. All other -motives now drop out of sight, and the ideal content of an action -alone becomes its motive. - -Among the levels of characterological disposition, we have singled -out as the highest that which manifests itself as pure thought, -or practical reason. Among the motives, we have just singled out -conceptual intuition as the highest. On nearer consideration, we now -perceive that at this level of morality the spring of action and the -motive coincide, i.e., that neither a predetermined characterological -disposition, nor an external moral principle accepted on authority, -influence our conduct. The action, therefore, is neither a merely -stereotyped one which follows the rules of a moral code, nor is it -automatically performed in response to an external impulse. Rather -it is determined solely through its ideal content. - -For such an action to be possible, we must first be capable of moral -intuitions. Whoever lacks the capacity to think out for himself the -moral principles that apply in each particular case, will never rise -to the level of genuine individual willing. - -Kant's principle of morality: Act so that the principle of your action -may be valid for all men--is the exact opposite of ours. His principle -would mean death to all individual action. The norm for me can never -be what all men would do, but rather what it is right for me to do -in each special case. - -A superficial criticism might urge against these arguments: How can -an action be individually adapted to the special case and the special -situation, and yet at the same time be ideally determined by pure -intuition? This objection rests on a confusion of the moral motive -with the perceptual content of an action. The latter, indeed, may -be a motive, and is actually a motive when we act for the progress -of culture, or from pure egoism, etc., but in action based on pure -moral intuition it never is a motive. Of course, my Self takes -notice of these perceptual contents, but it does not allow itself -to be determined by them. The content is used only to construct a -theoretical concept, but the corresponding moral concept is not derived -from the object. The theoretical concept of a given situation which -faces me, is a moral concept also only if I adopt the standpoint -of a particular moral principle. If I base all my conduct on the -principle of the progress of civilisation, then my way through life -is tied down to a fixed route. From every occurrence which comes to -my notice and attracts my interest there springs a moral duty, viz., -to do my tiny share towards using this occurrence in the service -of the progress of civilisation. In addition to the concept which -reveals to me the connections of events or objects according to the -laws of nature, there is also a moral label attached to them which -contains for me, as a moral agent, ethical directions as to how I have -to conduct myself. At a higher level these moral labels disappear, -and my action is determined in each particular instance by my idea; -and more particularly by the idea which is suggested to me by the -concrete instance. - -Men vary greatly in their capacity for intuition. In some, ideas bubble -up like a spring, others acquire them with much labour. The situations -in which men live, and which are the scenes of their actions, are no -less widely different. The conduct of a man will depend, therefore, -on the manner in which his faculty of intuition reacts to a given -situation. The aggregate of the ideas which are effective in us, -the concrete content of our intuitions, constitute that which is -individual in each of us, notwithstanding the universal character -of our ideas. In so far as this intuitive content has reference to -action, it constitutes the moral substance of the individual. To let -this substance express itself in his life is the moral principle of -the man who regards all other moral principles as subordinate. We -may call this point of view Ethical Individualism. - -The determining factor of an action, in any concrete instance, is the -discovery of the corresponding purely individual intuition. At this -level of morality, there can be no question of general moral concepts -(norms, laws). General norms always presuppose concrete facts from -which they can be deduced. But facts have first to be created by -human action. - -When we look for the regulating principles (the conceptual principles -guiding the actions of individuals, peoples, epochs), we obtain a -system of Ethics which is not a science of moral norms, but rather -a science of morality as a natural fact. Only the laws discovered in -this way are related to human action as the laws of nature are related -to particular phenomena. These laws, however, are very far from being -identical with the impulses on which we base our actions. If we want -to understand how man's moral will gives rise to an action, we must -first study the relation of this will to the action. For this purpose -we must single out for study those actions in which this relation -is the determining factor. When I, or another, subsequently review -my action we may discover what moral principles come into play in -it. But so long as I am acting, I am influenced, not by these moral -principles, but by my love for the object which I want to realise -through my action. I ask no man and no moral code, whether I shall -perform this action or not. On the contrary, I carry it out as soon -as I have formed the idea of it. This alone makes it my action. If a -man acts because he accepts certain moral norms, his action is the -outcome of the principles which compose his moral code. He merely -carries out orders. He is a superior kind of automaton. Inject some -stimulus to action into his mind, and at once the clock-work of his -moral principles will begin to work and run its prescribed course, so -as to issue in an action which is Christian, or humane, or unselfish, -or calculated to promote the progress of culture. It is only when -I follow solely my love for the object, that it is I, myself, who -act. At this level of morality, I acknowledge no lord over me, neither -an external authority, nor the so-called voice of my conscience. I -acknowledge no external principle of my action, because I have found -in myself the ground for my action, viz., my love of the action. I -do not ask whether my action is good or bad; I perform it, because I -am in love with it. My action is "good" when, with loving intuition, -I insert myself in the right way into the world-nexus as I experience -it intuitively; it is "bad" when this is not the case. Neither do I -ask myself how another man would act in my position. On the contrary, -I act as I, this unique individuality, will to act. No general usage, -no common custom, no general maxim current among men, no moral norm -guides me, but my love for the action. I feel no compulsion, neither -the compulsion of nature which dominates me through my instincts, -nor the compulsion of the moral commandments. My will is simply to -realise what in me lies. - -Those who hold to general moral norms will reply to these arguments -that, if every one has the right to live himself out and to do what he -pleases, there can be no distinction between a good and a bad action; -every fraudulent impulse in me has the same right to issue in action -as the intention to serve the general good. It is not the mere fact -of my having conceived the idea of an action which ought to determine -me as a moral agent, but the further examination of whether it is a -good or an evil action. Only if it is good ought I to carry it out. - -This objection is easily intelligible, and yet it had its root in -what is but a misapprehension of my meaning. My reply to it is this: -If we want to get at the essence of human volition, we must distinguish -between the path along which volition attains to a certain degree of -development, and the unique character which it assumes as it approaches -its goal. It is on the path towards the goal that the norms play a -legitimate part. The goal consists in the realisation of moral aims -which are apprehended by pure intuition. Man attains such aims in -proportion as he is able to rise at all to the level at which intuition -grasps the ideal content of the world. In any particular volition, -other elements will, as a rule, be mixed up, as motives or springs -of action, with such moral aims. But, for all that, intuition may be, -wholly or in part, the determining factor in human volition. What we -ought to do, that we do. We supply the stage upon which duty becomes -deed. It is our own action which, as such, issues from us. The impulse, -then, can only be wholly individual. And, in fact, only a volition -which issues out of intuition can be individual. It is only in an age -in which immature men regard the blind instincts as part of a man's -individuality, that the act of a criminal can be described as living -out one's individuality in the same sense, in which the embodiment -in action of a pure intuition can be so described. - -The animal instinct which drives a man to a criminal act does not -spring from intuition, and does not belong to what is individual in -him, but rather to that which is most general in him, to that which -is equally present in all individuals. The individual element in me -is not my organism with its instincts and feelings, but rather the -unified world of ideas which reveals itself through this organism. My -instincts, cravings, passions, justify no further assertion about -me than that I belong to the general species man. The fact that -something ideal expresses itself in its own unique way through these -instincts, passions, and feelings, constitutes my individuality. My -instincts and cravings make me the sort of man of whom there are -twelve to the dozen. The unique character of the idea, by means of -which I distinguish myself within the dozen as "I," makes of me an -individual. Only a being other than myself could distinguish me from -others by the difference in my animal nature. By thought, i.e., by the -active grasping of the ideal element working itself out through my -organism, I distinguish myself from others. Hence it is impossible -to say of the action of a criminal that it issues from the idea -within him. Indeed, the characteristic feature of criminal actions -is precisely that they spring from the non-ideal elements in man. - -An act the grounds for which lie in the ideal part of my individual -nature is free. Every other act, whether done under the compulsion -of nature or under the obligation imposed by a moral norm, is unfree. - -That man alone is free who in every moment of his life is able to obey -only himself. A moral act is my act only when it can be called free -in this sense. So far we are concerned here with the presuppositions -under which an act of will is felt to be free; the sequel will show -how this purely ethical concept of freedom is realised in the essential -nature of man. - -Action on the basis of freedom does not exclude, but include, the -moral laws. It only shows that it stands on a higher level than -actions which are dictated by these laws. Why should my act serve -the general good less well when I do it from pure love of it, than -when I perform it because it is a duty to serve the general good? The -concept of duty excludes freedom, because it will not acknowledge the -right of individuality, but demands the subjection of individuality -to a general norm. Freedom of action is conceivable only from the -standpoint of Ethical Individualism. - -But how about the possibility of social life for men, if each aims -only at asserting his own individuality? This question expresses yet -another objection on the part of Moralism wrongly understood. The -Moralist believes that a social community is possible only if all -men are held together by a common moral order. This shows that the -Moralist does not understand the community of the world of ideas. He -does not realise that the world of ideas which inspires me is no other -than that which inspires my fellow-men. This identity is, indeed, -but a conclusion from our experience of the world. However, it cannot -be anything else. For if we could recognise it in any other way than -by observation, it would follow that universal norms, not individual -experience, were dominant in its sphere. Individuality is possible only -if every individual knows others only through individual observation. I -differ from my neighbour, not at all because we are living in two -entirely different mental worlds, but because from our common world -of ideas we receive different intuitions. He desires to live out his -intuitions, I mine. If we both draw our intuitions really from the -world of ideas, and do not obey mere external impulses (physical or -moral), then we cannot but meet one another in striving for the same -aims, in having the same intentions. A moral misunderstanding, a clash -of aims, is impossible between men who are free. Only the morally -unfree who blindly follow their natural instincts or the commands of -duty, turn their backs on their neighbours, if these do not obey the -same instincts and the same laws as themselves. To live in love of -action and to let live in understanding of the other's volition, this -is the fundamental maxim of the free man. He knows no other "ought" -than that with which his will intuitively puts itself in harmony. How -he shall will in any given case, that will be determined for him by -the range of his ideas. - -If sociability were not deeply rooted in human nature, no external -laws would be able to inoculate us with it. It is only because human -individuals are akin in spirit that they can live out their lives -side by side. The free man lives out his life in the full confidence -that all other free men belong to one spiritual world with himself, -and that their intentions will coincide with his. The free man does -not demand agreement from his fellow-men, but he expects it none the -less, believing that it is inherent in human nature. I am not referring -here to the necessity for this or that external institution. I refer -to the disposition, to the state of mind, through which a man, aware -of himself as one of a group of fellow-men for whom he cares, comes -nearest to living up to the ideal of human dignity. - -There are many who will say that the concept of the free man which -I have here developed, is a chimera nowhere to be found realised, -and that we have got to deal with actual human beings, from whom we -can expect morality only if they obey some moral law, i.e., if they -regard their moral task as a duty and do not simply follow their -inclinations and loves. I do not deny this. Only a blind man could -do that. But, if so, away with all this hypocrisy of morality! Let us -say simply that human nature must be compelled to act as long as it is -not free. Whether the compulsion of man's unfree nature is effected by -physical force or through moral laws, whether man is unfree because he -indulges his unmeasured sexual desire, or because he is bound tight -in the bonds of conventional morality, is quite immaterial. Only let -us not assert that such a man can rightly call his actions his own, -seeing that he is driven to them by an external force. But in the midst -of all this network of compulsion, there arise free spirits who, in -all the welter of customs, legal codes, religious observances, etc., -learn to be true to themselves. They are free in so far as they obey -only themselves; unfree in so far as they submit to control. Which of -us can say that he is really free in all his actions? Yet in each of us -there dwells something deeper in which the free man finds expression. - -Our life is made up of free and unfree actions. We cannot, however, -form a final and adequate concept of human nature without coming upon -the free spirit as its purest expression. After all, we are men in -the fullest sense only in so far as we are free. - -This is an ideal, many will say. Doubtless; but it is an ideal which -is a real element in us working up to the surface of our nature. It is -no ideal born of mere imagination or dream, but one which has life, -and which manifests itself clearly even in the least developed form -of its existence. If men were nothing but natural objects, the search -for ideals, that is, for ideas which as yet are not actual but the -realisation of which we demand, would be an impossibility. In dealing -with external objects the idea is determined by the percept. We -have done our share when we have recognised the connection between -idea and percept. But with a human being the case is different. The -content of his existence is not determined without him. His concept -of his true self as a moral being (free spirit) is not a priori united -objectively with the perceptual content "man," so that knowledge need -only register the fact subsequently. Man must by his own act unite -his concept with the percept "man." Concept and percept coincide -with one another in this instance, only in so far as the individual -himself makes them coincide. This he can do only if he has found the -concept of the free spirit, that is, if he has found the concept of -his own Self. In the objective world, a boundary-line is drawn by our -organisation between percept and concept. Knowledge breaks down this -barrier. In our subjective nature this barrier is no less present. The -individual overcomes it in the course of his development, by embodying -his concept of himself in his outward existence. Hence man's moral life -and his intellectual life lead him both alike to his two-fold nature, -perception (immediate experience) and thought. The intellectual life -overcomes his two-fold nature by means of knowledge, the moral life -succeeds through the actual realisation of the free spirit. Every -being has its inborn concept (the laws of its being and action), -but in external objects this concept is indissolubly bound up with -the percept, and separated from it only in the organisation of human -minds. In human beings concept and percept are, at first, actually -separated, to be just as actually reunited by them. Someone might -object that to our percept of a man there corresponds at every moment -of his life a definite concept, just as with external objects. I can -construct for myself the concept of an average man, and I may also -have given to me a percept to fit this pattern. Suppose now I add to -this the concept of a free spirit, then I have two concepts for the -same object. - -Such an objection is one-sided. As object of perception I am subject -to perpetual change. As a child I was one thing, another as a youth, -yet another as a man. Moreover, at every moment I am different, as -percept, from what I was the moment before. These changes may take -place in such a way that either it is always only the same (average) -man who exhibits himself in them, or that they represent the expression -of a free spirit. Such are the changes which my actions, as objects -of perception, undergo. - -In the perceptual object "man" there is given the possibility of -transformation, just as in the plant-seed there lies the possibility -of growth into a fully developed plant. The plant transforms itself -in growth, because of the objective law of nature which is inherent -in it. The human being remains in his undeveloped state, unless he -takes hold of the material for transformation within him and develops -himself through his own energy. Nature makes of man merely a natural -being; Society makes of him a being who acts in obedience to law; only -he himself can make a free man of himself. At a definite stage in his -development Nature releases man from her fetters; Society carries his -development a step further; he alone can give himself the final polish. - -The theory of free morality, then, does not assert that the free spirit -is the only form in which man can exist. It looks upon the freedom of -the spirit only as the last stage in man's evolution. This is not to -deny that conduct in obedience to norms has its legitimate place as a -stage in development. The point is that we cannot acknowledge it to be -the absolute standpoint in morality. For the free spirit transcends -norms, in the sense that he is insensible to them as commands, but -regulates his conduct in accordance with his impulses (intuitions). - -When Kant apostrophises duty: "Duty! Thou sublime and mighty name, -that dost embrace nothing charming or insinuating, but requirest -submission," thou that "holdest forth a law ... before which all -inclinations are dumb, even though they secretly counterwork it," [6] -then the free spirit replies: "Freedom! thou kindly and humane name, -which dost embrace within thyself all that is morally most charming, -all that insinuates itself most into my humanity, and which makest -me the servant of nobody, which holdest forth no law, but waitest -what my inclination itself will proclaim as law, because it resists -every law that is forced upon it." - -This is the contrast of morality according to law and according -to freedom. - -The philistine who looks upon the State as embodied morality is sure -to look upon the free spirit as a danger to the State. But that is -only because his view is narrowly focused on a limited period of -time. If he were able to look beyond, he would soon find that it is -but on rare occasions that the free spirit needs to go beyond the -laws of his state, and that it never needs to confront them with any -real contradiction. For the laws of the state, one and all, have had -their origin in the intuitions of free spirits, just like all other -objective laws of morality. There is no traditional law enforced by -the authority of a family, which was not, once upon a time, intuitively -conceived and laid down by an ancestor. Similarly the conventional laws -of morality are first of all established by particular men, and the -laws of the state are always born in the brain of a statesman. These -free spirits have set up laws over the rest of mankind, and only he is -unfree who forgets this origin and makes them either divine commands, -or objective moral duties, or--falsely mystical--the authoritative -voice of his own conscience. - -He, on the other hand, who does not forget the origin of laws, but -looks for it in man, will respect them as belonging to the same world -of ideas which is the source also of his own moral intuitions. If he -thinks his intuitions better than the existing laws, he will try to -put them into the place of the latter. If he thinks the laws justified, -he will act in accordance with them as if they were his own intuitions. - -Man does not exist in order to found a moral order of the world. Anyone -who maintains that he does, stands in his theory of man still at -that same point, at which natural science stood when it believed -that a bull has horns in order that it may butt. Scientists, happily, -have cast the concept of objective purposes in nature into the limbo -of dead theories. For Ethics, it is more difficult to achieve the -same emancipation. But just as horns do not exist for the sake of -butting, but butting because of horns, so man does not exist for the -sake of morality, but morality exists through man. The free man acts -morally because he has a moral idea, he does not act in order to be -moral. Human individuals are the presupposition of a moral world order. - -The human individual is the fountain of all morality and the centre of -all life. State and society exist only because they have necessarily -grown out of the life of individuals. That state and society, in turn, -should react upon the lives of individuals, is no more difficult to -comprehend, than that the butting which is the result of the existence -of horns, reacts in turn upon the further development of the horns, -which would become atrophied by prolonged disuse. Similarly, the -individual must degenerate if he leads an isolated existence beyond -the pale of human society. That is just the reason why the social -order arises, viz., that it may react favourably upon the individual. - - - - - - - - -X - -MONISM AND THE PHILOSOPHY OF SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY - - -The naïve man who acknowledges nothing as real except what he can see -with his eyes and grasp with his hands, demands for his moral life, -too, grounds of action which are perceptible to his senses. He wants -some one who will impart to him these grounds of action in a manner -that his senses can apprehend. He is ready to allow these grounds of -action to be dictated to him as commands by anyone whom he considers -wiser or more powerful than himself, or whom he acknowledges, for -whatever reason, to be a power superior to himself. This accounts -for the moral principles enumerated above, viz., the principles which -rest on the authority of family, state, society, church, and God. The -most narrow-minded man still submits to the authority of some single -fellow-man. He who is a little more progressive allows his moral -conduct to be dictated by a majority (state, society). In every -case he relies on some power which is present to his senses. When, -at last, the conviction dawns on someone that his authorities are, -at bottom, human beings just as weak as himself, then he seeks refuge -with a higher power, with a Divine Being, whom, in turn, he endows -with qualities perceptible to the senses. He conceives this Being as -communicating to him the ideal content of his moral life by way of -his senses--believing, for example, that God appears in the flaming -bush, or that He moves about among men in manifest human shape, and -that their ears can hear His voice telling them what they are to do -and what not to do. - -The highest stage of development which Naïve Realism attains in the -sphere of morality is that at which the moral law (the moral idea) -is conceived as having no connection with any external being, -but, hypothetically, as being an absolute power in one's own -consciousness. What man first listened to as the voice of God, to -that he now listens as an independent power in his own mind which he -calls conscience. This conception, however, takes us already beyond -the level of the naïve consciousness into the sphere where moral -laws are treated as independent norms. They are there no longer -made dependent on a human mind, but are turned into self-existent -metaphysical entities. They are analogous to the visible-invisible -forces of Metaphysical Realism. Hence also they appear always as -a corollary of Metaphysical Realism, which seeks reality, not in -the part which human nature, through its thinking, plays in making -reality what it is, but which hypothetically posits reality over -and above the facts of experience. Hence these extra-human moral -norms always appear as corollaries of Metaphysical Realism. For this -theory is bound to look for the origin of morality likewise in the -sphere of extra-human reality. There are different possible views of -its origin. If the thing-in-itself is unthinking and acts according -to purely mechanical laws, as modern Materialism conceives that it -does, then it must also produce out of itself, by purely mechanical -necessity, the human individual and all that belongs to him. On -that view the consciousness of freedom can be nothing more than -an illusion. For whilst I consider myself the author of my action, -it is the matter of which I am composed and the movements which are -going on in it that determine me. I imagine myself free, but actually -all my actions are nothing but the effects of the metabolism which is -the basis of my physical and mental organisation. It is only because -we do not know the motives which compel us that we have the feeling -of freedom. "We must emphasise that the feeling of freedom depends -on the absence of external compelling motives." "Our actions are as -much subject to necessity as our thoughts" (Ziehen, Leitfaden der -Physiologischen Psychologie, pp. 207, ff.). [7] - -Another possibility is that some one will find in a spiritual being -the Absolute lying behind all phenomena. If so, he will look for the -spring of action in some kind of spiritual power. He will regard the -moral principles which his reason contains as the manifestation of this -spiritual being, which pursues in men its own special purposes. Moral -laws appear to the Dualist, who holds this view, as dictated by the -Absolute, and man's only task is to discover, by means of his reason, -the decisions of the Absolute and to carry them out. For the Dualist, -the moral order of the world is the visible symbol of the higher order -that lies behind it. Our human morality is a revelation of the divine -world-order. It is not man who matters in this moral order but reality -in itself, that is, God. Man ought to do what God wills. Eduard von -Hartmann, who identifies reality, as such, with God, and who treats -God's existence as a life of suffering, believes that the Divine -Being has created the world in order to gain, by means of the world, -release from his infinite suffering. Hence this philosopher regards the -moral evolution of humanity as a process, the function of which is the -redemption of God. "Only through the building up of a moral world-order -on the part of rational, self-conscious individuals is it possible for -the world-process to approximate to its goal." "Real existence is the -incarnation of God. The world-process is the passion of God who has -become flesh, and at the same time the way of redemption for Him who -was crucified in the flesh; and morality is our co-operation in the -shortening of this process of suffering and redemption" (Hartmann, -Phänomenologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins, § 871). On this view, -man does not act because he wills, but he must act because it is -God's will to be redeemed. Whereas the Materialistic Dualist turns -man into an automaton, the action of which is nothing but the effect -of causality according to purely mechanical laws, the Spiritualistic -Dualist (i.e., he who treats the Absolute, the thing-in-itself, as -a spiritual something in which man with his conscious experience has -no share), makes man the slave of the will of the Absolute. Neither -Materialism, nor Spiritualism, nor in general Metaphysical Realism -which infers, as true reality, an extra-human something which it does -not experience, have any room for freedom. - -Naïve and Metaphysical Realism, if they are to be consistent, have to -deny freedom for one and the same reason, viz., because, for them, -man does nothing but carry out, or execute, principles necessarily -imposed upon him. Naïve Realism destroys freedom by subjecting man -to authority, whether it be that of a perceptible being, or that of -a being conceived on the analogy of perceptible beings, or, lastly, -that of the abstract voice of conscience. The Metaphysician, content -merely to infer an extra-human reality, is unable to acknowledge -freedom because, for him, man is determined, mechanically or morally, -by a "thing-in-itself." - -Monism will have to admit the partial justification of Naïve Realism, -with which it agrees in admitting the part played by the world -of percepts. He who is incapable of producing moral ideas through -intuition must receive them from others. In so far as a man receives -his moral principles from without he is actually unfree. But Monism -ascribes to the idea the same importance as to the percept. The -idea can manifest itself only in human individuals. In so far -as man obeys the impulses coming from this side he is free. But -Monism denies all justification to Metaphysics, and consequently -also to the impulses of action which are derived from so-called -"things-in-themselves." According to the Monistic view, man's action -is unfree when he obeys some perceptible external compulsion; it -is free when he obeys none but himself. There is no room in Monism -for any kind of unconscious compulsion hidden behind percept and -concept. If anybody maintains of the action of a fellow-man that it -has not been freely done, he is bound to produce within the visible -world the thing or the person or the institution which has caused the -agent to act. And if he supports his contention by an appeal to causes -of action lying outside the real world of our percepts and thoughts, -then Monism must decline to take account of such an assertion. - -According to the Monistic theory, then, man's action is partly free, -partly unfree. He is conscious of himself as unfree in the world of -percepts, and he realises in himself the spirit which is free. - -The moral laws which his inferences compel the Metaphysician to regard -as issuing from a higher power have, according to the upholder of -Monism, been conceived by men themselves. To him the moral order is -neither a mere image of a purely mechanical order of nature nor of -the divine government of the world, but through and through the free -creation of men. It is not man's business to realise God's will in the -world, but his own. He carries out his own decisions and intentions, -not those of another being. Monism does not find behind human agents a -ruler of the world, determining them to act according to his will. Men -pursue only their own human ends. Moreover, each individual pursues -his own private ends. For the world of ideas realises itself, not in a -community, but only in individual men. What appears as the common goal -of a community is nothing but the result of the separate volitions -of its individual members, and most commonly of a few outstanding -men whom the rest follow as their leaders. Each one of us has it in -him to be a free spirit, just as every rosebud is potentially a rose. - -Monism, then, is in the sphere of genuinely moral action the true -philosophy of freedom. Being also a philosophy of reality, it -rejects the metaphysical (unreal) restriction of the free spirit as -emphatically as it acknowledges the physical and historical (naïvely -real) restrictions of the naïve man. Inasmuch as it does not look -upon man as a finished product, exhibiting in every moment of his -life his full nature, it considers idle the dispute whether man, -as such, is free or not. It looks upon man as a developing being, -and asks whether, in the course of this development, he can reach -the stage of the free spirit. - -Monism knows that Nature does not send forth man ready-made as a free -spirit, but that she leads him up to a certain stage, from which he -continues to develop still as an unfree being, until he reaches the -point where he finds his own self. - -Monism perceives clearly that a being acting under physical or moral -compulsion cannot be truly moral. It regards the stages of automatic -action (in accordance with natural impulses and instincts), and of -obedient action (in accordance with moral norms), as a necessary -propædeutic for morality, but it understands that it is possible for -the free spirit to transcend both these transitory stages. Monism -emancipates man in general from all the self-imposed fetters of the -maxims of naïve morality, and from all the externally imposed maxims of -speculative Metaphysicians. The former Monism can as little eliminate -from the world as it can eliminate percepts. The latter it rejects, -because it looks for all principles of explanation of the phenomena -of the world within that world and not outside it. Just as Monism -refuses even to entertain the thought of cognitive principles other -than those applicable to men (p. 125), so it rejects also the concept -of moral maxims other than those originated by men. Human morality, -like human knowledge, is conditioned by human nature, and just as -beings of a higher order would probably mean by knowledge something -very different from what we mean by it, so we may assume that other -beings would have a very different morality. For Monists, morality -is a specifically human quality, and freedom the human way being moral. - - - - -1. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -In forming a judgment about the argument of the two preceding chapters, -a difficulty may arise from what may appear to be a contradiction. On -the one side, we have spoken of the experience of thinking as one -the significance of which is universal and equally valid for every -human consciousness. On the other side, we have pointed out that the -ideas which we realise in moral action and which are homogeneous -with those that thinking elaborates, manifest themselves in every -human consciousness in a uniquely individual way. If we cannot get -beyond regarding this antithesis as a "contradiction," and if we -do not recognise that in the living intuition of this actually -existing antithesis a piece of man's essential nature reveals -itself, we shall not be able to apprehend in the true light either -what knowledge is or what freedom is. Those who think of concepts -as nothing more than abstractions from the world of percepts, -and who do not acknowledge the part which intuition plays, cannot -but regard as a "pure contradiction" the thought for which we have -here claimed reality. But if we understand how ideas are experienced -intuitively in their self-sustaining essence, we see clearly that, -in knowledge, man lives and enters into the world of ideas as -into something which is identical for all men. On the other hand, -when man derives from that world the intuitions for his voluntary -actions, he individualises a member of the world of ideas by that -same activity which he practises as a universally human one in the -spiritual and ideal process of cognition. The apparent contradiction -between the universal character of cognitive ideas and the individual -character of moral ideas becomes, when intuited in its reality, -a living concept. It is a criterion of the essential nature of man -that what we intuitively apprehend of his nature oscillates, like a -living pendulum, between knowledge which is universally valid, and -individualised experience of this universal content. Those who fail -to perceive the one oscillation in its real character, will regard -thinking as a merely subjective human activity. For those who are -unable to grasp the other oscillation, man's activity in thinking -will seem to lose all individual life. Knowledge is to the former, -the moral life to the latter, an unintelligible fact. Both will fall -back on all sorts of ideas for the explanation of the one or of the -other, because both either do not understand at all how thinking can -be intuitively experienced, or, else, misunderstand it as an activity -which merely abstracts. - - - - -2. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -On page 180 I have spoken of Materialism. I am well aware that there -are thinkers, like the above-mentioned Th. Ziehen, who do not call -themselves Materialists at all, but yet who must be called so from -the point of view adopted in this book. It does not matter whether -a thinker says that for him the world is not restricted to merely -material being, and that, therefore, he is not a Materialist. No, -what matters is whether he develops concepts which are applicable only -to material being. Anyone who says, "our action, like our thought, -is necessarily determined," lays down a concept which is applicable -only to material processes, but not applicable either to what we do or -to what we are. And if he were to think out what his concept implies, -he would end by thinking materialistically. He saves himself from this -fate only by the same inconsistency which so often results from not -thinking one's thoughts out to the end. It is often said nowadays that -the Materialism of the nineteenth century is scientifically dead. But -in truth it is not so. It is only that nowadays we frequently fail -to notice that we have no other ideas than those which apply only to -the material world. Thus recent Materialism is disguised, whereas -in the second half of the nineteenth century it openly flaunted -itself. Towards a theory which apprehends the world spiritually the -camouflaged Materialism of the present is no less intolerant than -the self-confessed Materialism of the last century. But it deceives -many who think they have a right to reject a theory of the world in -terms of Spirit, on the ground that the scientific world-view "has -long ago abandoned Materialism." - - - - - - - - -XI - -WORLD-PURPOSE AND LIFE-PURPOSE - -(THE DESTINY OF MAN) - - -Among the manifold currents in the spiritual life of humanity -there is one which we must now trace, and which we may call the -elimination of the concept of purpose from spheres to which it does -not belong. Adaptation to purpose is a special kind of sequence of -phenomena. Such adaptation is genuinely real only when, in contrast -to the relation of cause and effect in which the antecedent event -determines the subsequent, the subsequent event determines the -antecedent. This is possible only in the sphere of human actions. Man -performs actions which he first presents to himself in idea, and he -allows himself to be determined to action by this idea. The consequent, -i.e., the action, influences by means of the idea the antecedent, -i.e., the human agent. If the sequence is to have purposive character, -it is absolutely necessary to have this circuitous process through -human ideas. - -In the process which we can analyse into cause and effect, we must -distinguish percept from concept. The percept of the cause precedes -the percept of the effect. Cause and effect would simply stand side by -side in our consciousness, if we were not able to connect them with -one another through the corresponding concepts. The percept of the -effect must always be consequent upon the percept of the cause. If -the effect is to have a real influence upon the cause, it can do so -only by means of the conceptual factor. For the perceptual factor -of the effect simply does not exist prior to the perceptual factor -of the cause. Whoever maintains that the flower is the purpose of -the root, i.e., that the former determines the latter, can make good -this assertion only concerning that factor in the flower which his -thought reveals in it. The perceptual factor of the flower is not -yet in existence at the time when the root originates. - -In order to have a purposive connection, it is not only necessary to -have an ideal connection of consequent and antecedent according to -law, but the concept (law) of the effect must really, i.e., by means -of a perceptible process, influence the cause. Such a perceptible -influence of a concept upon something else is to be observed only in -human actions. Hence this is the only sphere in which the concept of -purpose is applicable. The naïve consciousness, which regards as real -only what is perceptible, attempts, as we have repeatedly pointed out, -to introduce perceptible factors even where only ideal factors can -actually be found. In sequences of perceptible events it looks for -perceptible connections, or, failing to find them, it imports them -by imagination. The concept of purpose, valid for subjective actions, -is very convenient for inventing such imaginary connections. The naïve -mind knows how it produces events itself, and consequently concludes -that Nature proceeds likewise. In the connections of Nature which are -purely ideal it finds, not only invisible forces, but also invisible -real purposes. Man makes his tools to suit his purposes. On the same -principle, so the Naïve Realist imagines, the Creator constructs all -organisms. It is but slowly that this mistaken concept of purpose is -being driven out of the sciences. In philosophy, even at the present -day, it still does a good deal of mischief. Philosophers still ask such -questions as, What is the purpose of the world? What is the function -(and consequently the purpose) of man? etc. - -Monism rejects the concept of purpose in every sphere, with the sole -exception of human action. It looks for laws of Nature, but not for -purposes of Nature. Purposes of Nature, no less than invisible forces -(p. 118), are arbitrary assumptions. But even life-purposes which -man does not set up for himself, are, from the standpoint of Monism, -illegitimate assumptions. Nothing is purposive except what man -has made so, for only the realisation of ideas originates anything -purposive. But an idea becomes effective, in the realistic sense, -only in human actions. Hence life has no other purpose or function -than the one which man gives to it. If the question be asked, What is -man's purpose in life? Monism has but one answer: The purpose which -he gives to himself. I have no predestined mission in the world; -my mission, at any one moment, is that which I choose for myself. I -do not enter upon life's voyage with a fixed route mapped out for me. - -Ideas are realised only by human agents. Consequently, it is -illegitimate to speak of the embodiment of ideas by history. All such -statements as "history is the evolution of man towards freedom," or -"the realisation of the moral world-order," etc., are, from a Monistic -point of view, untenable. - -The supporters of the concept of purpose believe that, in surrendering -it, they are forced to surrender also all unity and order in the -world. Listen, for example, to Robert Hamerling (Atomistik des Willens, -vol. ii, p. 201): "As long as there are instincts in Nature, so long -is it foolish to deny purposes in Nature. Just as the structure of a -limb of the human body is not determined and conditioned by an idea -of this limb, floating somewhere in mid-air, but by its connection -with the more inclusive whole, the body, to which the limb belongs, -so the structure of every natural object, be it plant, animal, or man, -is not determined and conditioned by an idea of it floating in mid-air, -but by the formative principle of the more inclusive whole of Nature -which unfolds and organises itself in a purposive manner." And on -page 191 of the same volume we read: "Teleology maintains only that, -in spite of the thousand misfits and miseries of this natural life, -there is a high degree of adaptation to purpose and plan unmistakable -in the formations and developments of Nature--an adaptation, however, -which is realised only within the limits of natural laws, and which -does not tend to the production of some imaginary fairy-land, in which -life would not be confronted by death, growth by decay, with all the -more or less unpleasant, but quite unavoidable, intermediary stages -between them. When the critics of Teleology oppose a laboriously -collected rubbish-heap of partial or complete, imaginary or real, -maladaptations to a world full of wonders of purposive adaptation, -such as Nature exhibits in all her domains, then I consider this just -as amusing----" - -What is here meant by purposive adaptation? Nothing but the consonance -of percepts within a whole. But, since all percepts are based upon -laws (ideas), which we discover by means of thinking, it follows that -the orderly coherence of the members of a perceptual whole is nothing -more than the ideal (logical) coherence of the members of the ideal -whole which is contained in this perceptual whole. To say that an -animal or a man is not determined by an idea floating in mid-air is a -misleading way of putting it, and the view which the critic attacks -loses its apparent absurdity as soon as the phrase is put right. An -animal certainly is not determined by an idea floating in mid-air, -but it is determined by an idea inborn in it and constituting the -law of its nature. It is just because the idea is not external to -the natural object, but is operative in it as its very essence, that -we cannot speak here of adaptation to purpose. Those who deny that -natural objects are determined from without (and it does not matter, -in this context, whether it be by an idea floating in mid-air or -existing in the mind of a creator of the world), are the very men who -ought to admit that such an object is not determined by purpose and -plan from without, but by cause and law from within. A machine is -produced in accordance with a purpose, if I establish a connection -between its parts which is not given in Nature. The purposive -character of the combinations which I effect consists just in this, -that I embody my idea of the working of the machine in the machine -itself. In this way the machine comes into existence as an object of -perception embodying a corresponding idea. Natural objects have a very -similar character. Whoever calls a thing purposive because its form -is in accordance with plan or law may, if he so please, call natural -objects also purposive, provided only that he does not confuse this -kind of purposiveness with that which belongs to a subjective human -action. In order to have a purpose, it is absolutely necessary that -the efficient cause should be a concept, more precisely a concept of -the effect. But in Nature we can nowhere point to concepts operating -as causes. A concept is never anything but the ideal nexus of cause -and effect. Causes occur in Nature only in the form of percepts. - -Dualism may talk of cosmic and natural purposes. Wherever for our -perception there is a nexus of cause and effect according to law, -there the Dualist is free to assume that we have but the image of a -nexus in which the Absolute has realised its purposes. For Monism, -on the other hand, the rejection of an Absolute Reality implies also -the rejection of the assumption of purposes in World and Nature. - - - - -ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -No one who, with an open mind, has followed the preceding argument, -will come to the conclusion that the author, in rejecting the -concept of purpose for extra-human facts, intended to side with those -thinkers who reject this concept in order to be able to regard, first, -everything outside human action and, next, human action itself, as -a purely natural process. Against such misunderstanding the author -should be protected by the fact that the process of thinking is in -this book represented as a purely spiritual process. The reason for -rejecting the concept of purpose even for the spiritual world, so -far as it lies outside human action, is that in this world there is -revealed something higher than a purpose, such as is realised in human -life. And when we characterise as erroneous the attempt to conceive -the destiny of the human race as purposive according to the pattern -of human purposiveness, we mean that the individual adopts purposes, -and that the result of the total activity of humanity is composed of -these individual purposes. This result is something higher than its -component parts, the purposes of individual men. - - - - - - - - -XII - -MORAL IMAGINATION - -(DARWIN AND MORALITY) - - -A free spirit acts according to his impulses, i.e., intuitions, which -his thought has selected out of the whole world of his ideas. For an -unfree spirit, the reason why he singles out a particular intuition -from his world of ideas, in order to make it the basis of an action, -lies in the perceptual world which is given to him, i.e., in his -past experiences. He recalls, before making a decision, what some -one else has done, or recommended as proper in an analogous case, -or what God has commanded to be done in such a case, etc., and he -acts on these recollections. A free spirit dispenses with these -preliminaries. His decision is absolutely original. He cares as -little what others have done in such a case as what commands they have -laid down. He has purely ideal (logical) reasons which determine him -to select a particular concept out of the sum of his concepts, and -to realise it in action. But his action will belong to perceptible -reality. Consequently, what he achieves will coincide with a definite -content of perception. His concept will have to be realised in a -concrete particular event. As a concept it will not contain this -event as particular. It will refer to the event only in its generic -character, just as, in general, a concept is related to a percept, -e.g., the concept lion to a particular lion. The link between concept -and percept is the idea (cp. pp. 104 ff). To the unfree spirit this -intermediate link is given from the outset. Motives exist in his -consciousness from the first in the form of ideas. Whenever he intends -to do anything he acts as he has seen others act, or he obeys the -instructions he receives in each separate case. Hence authority is most -effective in the form of examples, i.e., in the form of traditional -patterns of particular actions handed down for the guidance of the -unfree spirit. A Christian models his conduct less on the teaching than -on the pattern of the Saviour. Rules have less value for telling men -positively what to do than for telling them what to leave undone. Laws -take on the form of universal concepts only when they forbid actions, -not when they prescribe actions. Laws concerning what we ought to -do must be given to the unfree spirit in wholly concrete form. Clean -the street in front of your door! Pay your taxes to such and such an -amount to the tax-collector! etc. Conceptual form belongs to laws -which inhibit actions. Thou shalt not steal! Thou shalt not commit -adultery! But these laws, too, influence the unfree spirit only by -means of a concrete idea, e.g., the idea of the punishments attached -by human authority, or of the pangs of conscience, or of eternal -damnation, etc. - -Even when the motive to an action exists in universal conceptual form -(e.g., Thou shalt do good to thy fellow-men! Thou shalt live so that -thou promotest best thy welfare!), there still remains to be found, -in the particular case, the concrete idea of the action (the relation -of the concept to a content of perception). For a free spirit who -is not guided by any model nor by fear of punishment, etc., this -translation of the concept into an idea is always necessary. - -Concrete ideas are formed by us on the basis of our concepts by -means of the imagination. Hence what the free spirit needs in order to -realise his concepts, in order to assert himself in the world, is moral -imagination. This is the source of the free spirit's action. Only those -men, therefore, who are endowed with moral imagination are, properly -speaking, morally productive. Those who merely preach morality, -i.e., those who merely excogitate moral rules without being able to -condense them into concrete ideas, are morally unproductive. They are -like those critics who can explain very competently how a work of art -ought to be made, but who are themselves incapable of the smallest -artistic production. - -Moral imagination, in order to realise its ideas, must enter into -a determinate sphere of percepts. Human action does not create -percepts, but transforms already existing percepts and gives them a -new character. In order to be able to transform a definite object of -perception, or a sum of such objects, in accordance with a moral idea, -it is necessary to understand the object's law (its mode of action -which one intends to transform, or to which one wants to give a new -direction). Further, it is necessary to discover the procedure by which -it is possible to change the given law into the new one. This part of -effective moral activity depends on knowledge of the particular world -of phenomena with which one has got to deal. We shall, therefore, -find it in some branch of scientific knowledge. Moral action, then, -presupposes, in addition to the faculty of moral concepts [8] and of -moral imagination, the ability to alter the world of percepts without -violating the natural laws by which they are connected. This ability -is moral technique. It may be learnt in the same sense in which science -in general may be learnt. For, in general, men are better able to find -concepts for the world as it is, than productively to originate out -of their imaginations future, and as yet non-existing, actions. Hence, -it is very well possible for men without moral imagination to receive -moral ideas from others, and to embody these skilfully in the actual -world. Vice versa, it may happen that men with moral imagination lack -technical skill, and are dependent on the service of other men for -the realisation of their ideas. - -In so far as we require for moral action knowledge of the objects upon -which we are about to act, our action depends upon such knowledge. What -we need to know here are the laws of nature. These belong to the -Natural Sciences, not to Ethics. - -Moral imagination and the faculty of moral concepts can become -objects of theory only after they have first been employed by the -individual. But, thus regarded, they no longer regulate life, but have -already regulated it. They must now be treated as efficient causes, -like all other causes (they are purposes only for the subject). The -study of them is, as it were, the Natural Science of moral ideas. - -Ethics as a Normative Science, over and above this science, is -impossible. - -Some would maintain the normative character of moral laws at least -in the sense that Ethics is to be taken as a kind of dietetic which, -from the conditions of the organism's life, deduces general rules, on -the basis of which it hopes to give detailed directions to the body -(Paulsen, System der Ethik). This comparison is mistaken, because -our moral life cannot be compared with the life of the organism. The -behaviour of the organism occurs without any volition on our part. Its -laws are fixed data in our world; hence we can discover them and -apply them when discovered. Moral laws, on the other hand, do not -exist until we create them. We cannot apply them until we have created -them. The error is due to the fact that moral laws are not at every -moment new creations, but are handed down by tradition. Those which -we take over from our ancestors appear to be given like the natural -laws of the organism. But it does not follow that a later generation -has the right to apply them in the same way as dietetic rules. For -they apply to individuals, and not, like natural laws, to specimens -of a genus. Considered as an organism, I am such a generic specimen, -and I shall live in accordance with nature if I apply the laws of my -genus to my particular case. As a moral agent I am an individual and -have my own private laws. [9] - -The view here upheld appears to contradict that fundamental doctrine of -modern Natural Science which is known as the Theory of Evolution. But -it only appears to do so. By evolution we mean the real development of -the later out of the earlier in accordance with natural law. In the -organic world, evolution means that the later (more perfect) organic -forms are real descendants of the earlier (imperfect) forms, and have -grown out of them in accordance with natural laws. The upholders -of the theory of organic evolution believe that there was once a -time on our earth, when we could have observed with our own eyes -the gradual evolution of reptiles out of Proto-Amniotes, supposing -that we could have been present as men, and had been endowed with -a sufficiently long span of life. Similarly, Evolutionists suppose -that man could have watched the development of the solar system -out of the primordial nebula of the Kant-Laplace hypothesis, if he -could have occupied a suitable spot in the world-ether during that -infinitely long period. But no Evolutionist will dream of maintaining -that he could from his concept of the primordial Amnion deduce that -of the reptile with all its qualities, even if he had never seen -a reptile. Just as little would it be possible to derive the solar -system from the concept of the Kant-Laplace nebula, if this concept -of an original nebula had been formed only from the percept of the -nebula. In other words, if the Evolutionist is to think consistently, -he is bound to maintain that out of earlier phases of evolution later -ones really develop; that once the concept of the imperfect and that -of the perfect have been given, we can understand the connection. But -in no case will he admit that the concept formed from the earlier -phases is, in itself, sufficient for deducing from it the later -phases. From this it follows for Ethics that, whilst we can understand -the connection of later moral concepts with earlier ones, it is not -possible to deduce a single new moral idea from earlier ones. The -individual, as a moral being, produces his own content. This content, -thus produced, is for Ethics a datum, as much as reptiles are a datum -for Natural Science. Reptiles have evolved out of the Proto-Amniotes, -but the scientist cannot manufacture the concept of reptiles out -of the concept of the Proto-Amniotes. Later moral ideas evolve out -of the earlier ones, but Ethics cannot manufacture out of the moral -principles of an earlier age those of a later one. The confusion is due -to the fact that, as scientists, we start with the facts before us, -and then make a theory about them, whereas in moral action we first -produce the facts ourselves, and then theorise about them. In the -evolution of the moral world-order we accomplish what, at a lower -level, Nature accomplishes: we alter some part of the perceptual -world. Hence the ethical norm cannot straightway be made an object of -knowledge, like a law of nature, for it must first be created. Only -when that has been done can the norm become an object of knowledge. - -But is it not possible to make the old a measure for the new? Is -not every man compelled to measure the deliverances of his moral -imagination by the standard of traditional moral principles? If he -would be truly productive in morality, such measuring is as much an -absurdity as it would be an absurdity if one were to measure a new -species in nature by an old one and say that reptiles, because they -do not agree with the Proto-Amniotes, are an illegitimate (degenerate) -species. - -Ethical Individualism, then, so far from being in opposition to -the theory of evolution, is a direct consequence of it. Haeckel's -genealogical tree, from protozoa up to man as an organic being, ought -to be capable of being worked out without a breach of natural law, -and without a gap in its uniform evolution, up to the individual -as a being with a determinate moral nature. But, whilst it is quite -true that the moral ideas of the individual have perceptibly grown -out of those of his ancestors, it is also true that the individual -is morally barren, unless he has moral ideas of his own. - -The same Ethical Individualism which I have developed on the basis -of the preceding principles, might be equally well developed on the -basis of the theory of evolution. The final result would be the same; -only the path by which it was reached would be different. - -That absolutely new moral ideas should be developed by the moral -imagination is for the theory of evolution no more inexplicable than -the development of one animal species out of another, provided only -that this theory, as a Monistic world-view, rejects, in morality as -in science, every transcendent (metaphysical) influence. In doing -so, it follows the same principle by which it is guided in seeking -the causes of new organic forms in forms already existing, but not -in the interference of an extra-mundane God, who produces every new -species in accordance with a new creative idea through supernatural -interference. Just as Monism has no use for supernatural creative ideas -in explaining living organisms, so it is equally impossible for it -to derive the moral world-order from causes which do not lie within -the world. It cannot admit any continuous supernatural influence -upon moral life (divine government of the world from the outside), -nor an influence either through a particular act of revelation at -a particular moment in history (giving of the ten commandments), or -through God's appearance on the earth (Divinity of Christ [10]). Moral -processes are, for Monism, natural products like everything else that -exists, and their causes must be looked for in nature, i.e., in man, -because man is the bearer of morality. - -Ethical Individualism, then, is the crown of the edifice that Darwin -and Haeckel have erected for Natural Science. It is the theory of -evolution applied to the moral life. - -Anyone who restricts the concept of the natural from the outset to an -artificially limited and narrowed sphere, is easily tempted not to -allow any room within it for free individual action. The consistent -Evolutionist does not easily fall a prey to such a narrow-minded -view. He cannot let the process of evolution terminate with the ape, -and acknowledge for man a supernatural origin. Again, he cannot -stop short at the organic reactions of man and regard only these as -natural. He has to treat also the life of moral self-determination -as the continuation of organic life. The Evolutionist, then, -in accordance with his fundamental principles, can maintain only -that moral action evolves out of the less perfect forms of natural -processes. He must leave the characterisation of action, i.e., -its determination as free action, to the immediate observation of -each agent. All that he maintains is only that men have developed -out of non-human ancestors. What the nature of men actually is must -be determined by observation of men themselves. The results of this -observation cannot possibly contradict the history of evolution. Only -the assertion that the results are such as to exclude their being due -to a natural world-order would contradict recent developments in the -Natural Sciences. [11] - -Ethical Individualism, then, has nothing to fear from a Natural -Science which understands itself. Observation yields freedom as the -characteristic quality of the perfect form of human action. Freedom -must be attributed to the human will, in so far as the will realises -purely ideal intuitions. For these are not the effects of a necessity -acting upon them from without, but are grounded in themselves. When -we find that an action embodies such an ideal intuition, we feel it -to be free. Freedom consists in this character of an action. - -What, then, from the standpoint of nature are we to say of the -distinction, already mentioned above (p. 8), between the two -statements, "To be free means to be able to do what you will," -and "To be able, as you please, to strive or not to strive is the -real meaning of the dogma of free will"? Hamerling bases his theory -of free will precisely on this distinction, by declaring the first -statement to be correct but the second to be an absurd tautology. He -says, "I can do what I will, but to say I can will what I will is an -empty tautology." Whether I am able to do, i.e., to make real, what -I will, i.e., what I have set before myself as my idea of action, -that depends on external circumstances and on my technical skill -(cp. p. 200). To be free means to be able to determine by moral -imagination out of oneself those ideas (motives) which lie at the -basis of action. Freedom is impossible if anything other than I myself -(whether a mechanical process or God) determines my moral ideas. In -other words, I am free only when I myself produce these ideas, but -not when I am merely able to realise the ideas which another being -has implanted in me. A free being is one who can will what he regards -as right. Whoever does anything other than what he wills must be -impelled to it by motives which do not lie in himself. Such a man is -unfree in his action. Accordingly, to be able to will, as you please, -what you consider right or wrong means to be free or unfree as you -please. This is, of course, just as absurd as to identify freedom with -the faculty of doing what one is compelled to will. But this is just -what Hamerling maintains when he says, "It is perfectly true that the -will is always determined by motives, but it is absurd to say that on -this ground it is unfree; for a greater freedom can neither be desired -nor conceived than the freedom to realise oneself in proportion to -one's own power and strength of will." On the contrary, it is well -possible to desire a greater freedom and that a true freedom, viz., -the freedom to determine for oneself the motives of one's volitions. - -Under certain conditions a man may be induced to abandon the execution -of his will; but to allow others to prescribe to him what he shall -do--in other words, to will what another and not what he himself -regards as right--to this a man will submit only when he does not -feel free. - -External powers may prevent me from doing what I will, but that is -only to condemn me to do nothing or to be unfree. Not until they -enslave my spirit, drive my motives out of my head, and put their -own motives in the place of mine, do they really aim at making -me unfree. That is the reason why the church attacks not only the -mere doing, but especially the impure thoughts, i.e., motives of my -action. And for the church all those motives are impure which she -has not herself authorised. A church does not produce genuine slaves -until her priests turn themselves into advisers of consciences, i.e., -until the faithful depend upon the church, i.e., upon the confessional, -for the motives of their actions. - - - - -ADDITION TO REVISED EDITION (1918). - -In these chapters I have given an account of how every one may -experience in his actions something which makes him aware that his -will is free. It is especially important to recognise that we derive -the right to call an act of will free from the experience of an ideal -intuition realising itself in the act. This can be nothing but a datum -of observation, in the sense that we observe the development of human -volition in the direction towards the goal of attaining the possibility -of just such volition sustained by purely ideal intuition. This -attainment is possible because the ideal intuition is effective through -nothing but its own self-dependent essence. Where such an intuition is -present in the mind, it has not developed itself out of the processes -in the organism (cp. pp. 146 ff.), but the organic processes have -retired to make room for the ideal processes. Observation of an act -of will which embodies an intuition shows that out of it, likewise, -all organically necessary activity has retired. The act of will is -free. No one can observe this freedom of will who is unable to see -how free will consists in this, that, first, the intuitive factor -lames and represses the necessary activity of the human organism, -and then puts in its place the spiritual activity of a will guided by -ideas. Only those who are unable to observe these two factors in the -free act of will believe that every act of will is unfree. Those who -are able to observe them win through to the recognition that man is -unfree in so far as he fails to repress organic activity completely, -but that this unfreedom is tending towards freedom, and that this -freedom, so far from being an abstract ideal, is a directive force -inherent in human nature. Man is free in proportion as he succeeds -in realising in his acts of will the same disposition of mind, which -possesses him when he is conscious in himself of the formation of -purely ideal (spiritual) intuitions. - - - - - - - - -XIII - -THE VALUE OF LIFE - -(OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM) - - -A counterpart of the question concerning the purpose and function -of life (cp. pp. 190 ff.) is the question concerning its value. We -meet here with two mutually opposed views, and between them with all -conceivable attempts at compromise. One view says that this world is -the best conceivable which could exist at all, and that to live and act -in it is a good of inestimable value. Everything that exists displays -harmonious and purposive co-operation and is worthy of admiration. Even -what is apparently bad and evil may, from a higher point of view, -be seen to be a good, for it represents an agreeable contrast with -the good. We are the more able to appreciate the good when it is -clearly contrasted with evil. Moreover, evil is not genuinely real; -it is only that we perceive as evil a lesser degree of good. Evil is -the absence of good, it has no positive import of its own. - -The other view maintains that life is full of misery and -agony. Everywhere pain outweighs pleasure, sorrow outweighs -joy. Existence is a burden, and non-existence would, from every point -of view, be preferable to existence. - -The chief representatives of the former view, i.e., Optimism, are -Shaftesbury and Leibnitz; the chief representatives of the second, -i.e., Pessimism, are Schopenhauer and Eduard von Hartmann. - -Leibnitz says the world is the best of all possible worlds. A better -one is impossible. For God is good and wise. A good God wills to -create the best possible world, a wise God knows which is the best -possible. He is able to distinguish the best from all other and worse -possibilities. Only an evil or an unwise God would be able to create -a world worse than the best possible. - -Whoever starts from this point of view will find it easy to lay down -the direction which human action must follow, in order to make its -contribution to the greatest good of the universe. All that man need do -will be to find out the counsels of God and to act in accordance with -them. If he knows what God's purposes are concerning the world and the -human race, he will be able, for his part, to do what is right. And -he will be happy in the feeling that he is adding his share to all -the other good in the world. From this optimistic standpoint, then, -life is worth living. It is such as to stimulate us to co-operate with, -and enter into, it. - -Quite different is the picture Schopenhauer paints. He thinks of -ultimate reality not as an all-wise and all-beneficent being, but -as blind striving or will. Eternal striving, ceaseless craving for -satisfaction which yet is ever beyond reach, these are the fundamental -characteristics of all will. For as soon as we have attained what we -want, a fresh need springs up, and so on. Satisfaction, when it occurs, -endures always only for an infinitesimal time. The whole rest of our -lives is unsatisfied craving, i.e., discontent and suffering. When at -last blind craving is dulled, every definite content is gone from our -lives. Existence is filled with nothing but an endless ennui. Hence -the best we can do is to throttle all desires and needs within us -and exterminate the will. Schopenhauer's Pessimism leads to complete -inactivity; its moral aim is universal idleness. - -By a very different argument Von Hartmann attempts to establish -Pessimism and to make use of it for Ethics. He attempts, in keeping -with the fashion of our age, to base his world-view on experience. By -observation of life he hopes to discover whether there is more pain or -more pleasure in the world. He passes in review before the tribunal of -reason whatever men consider to be happiness and a good, in order to -show that all apparent satisfaction turns out, on closer inspection, -to be nothing but illusion. It is illusion when we believe that in -health, youth, freedom, sufficient income, love (sexual satisfaction), -pity, friendship and family life, honour, reputation, glory, power, -religious edification, pursuit of science and of art, hope of a life -after death, participation in the advancement of civilisation--that -in all these we have sources of happiness and satisfaction. Soberly -considered, every enjoyment brings much more evil and misery than -pleasure into the world. The disagreeableness of "the morning after" -is always greater than the agreeableness of intoxication. Pain far -outweighs pleasure in the world. No man, even though relatively the -happiest, would, if asked, wish to live through this miserable life -a second time. Now, since Hartmann does not deny the presence of an -ideal factor (wisdom) in the world, but, on the contrary, grants to it -equal rights with blind striving (will), he can attribute the creation -of the world to his Absolute Being only on condition that He makes -the pain in the world subserve a world-purpose that is wise. But the -pain of created beings is nothing but God's pain itself, for the life -of Nature as a whole is identical with the life of God. An All-wise -Being can aim only at release from pain, and since all existence is -pain, at release from existence. Hence the purpose of the creation -of the world is to transform existence into the non-existence which -is so much better. The world-process is nothing but a continuous -battle against God's pain, a battle which ends with the annihilation -of all existence. The moral life for men, therefore, will consist in -taking part in the annihilation of existence. The reason why God has -created the world is that through the world he may free himself from -his infinite pain. The world must be regarded, "as it were, as an -itching eruption on the Absolute," by means of which the unconscious -healing power of the Absolute rids itself of an inward disease; or -it may be regarded "as a painful drawing-plaster which the All-One -applies to itself in order first to divert the inner pain outwards, -and then to get rid of it altogether." Human beings are members of the -world. In their sufferings God suffers. He has created them in order -to split up in them his infinite pain. The pain which each one of us -suffers is but a drop in the infinite ocean of God's pain (Hartmann, -Phänomenologie des Sittlichen Bewusstseins, pp. 866 ff.). - -It is man's duty to permeate his whole being with the recognition -that the pursuit of individual satisfaction (Egoism) is a folly, and -that he ought to be guided solely by the task of assisting in the -redemption of God by unselfish service of the world-process. Thus, -in contrast with the Pessimism of Schopenhauer, that of Von Hartmann -leads us to devoted activity in a sublime cause. - -But what of the claim that this view is based on experience? - -To strive after satisfaction means that our activity reaches out beyond -the actual content of our lives. A creature is hungry, i.e., it desires -satiety, when its organic functions demand for their continuation the -supply of fresh life-materials in the form of nourishment. The pursuit -of honour consists in that a man does not regard what he personally -does or leaves undone as valuable unless it is endorsed by the approval -of others from without. The striving for knowledge arises when a man -is not content with the world which he sees, hears, etc., so long -as he has not understood it. The fulfilment of the striving causes -pleasure in the individual who strives, failure causes pain. It is -important here to observe that pleasure and pain are attached only to -the fulfilment or non-fulfilment of my striving. The striving itself -is by no means to be regarded as a pain. Hence, if we find that, -in the very moment in which a striving is fulfilled, at once a new -striving arises, this is no ground for saying that pleasure has given -birth to pain, because enjoyment in every case gives rise to a desire -for its repetition, or for a fresh pleasure. I can speak of pain only -when desire runs up against the impossibility of fulfilment. Even -when an enjoyment that I have had causes in me the desire for the -experience of a greater, more subtle, and more exotic pleasure, I -have no right to speak of this desire as a pain caused by the previous -pleasure until the means fail me to gain the greater and more subtle -pleasure. I have no right to regard pleasure as the cause of pain -unless pain follows on pleasure as its consequence by natural law, -e.g., when a woman's sexual pleasure is followed by the suffering of -child-birth and the cares of nursing. If striving caused pain, then the -removal of striving ought to be accompanied by pleasure. But the very -reverse is true. To have no striving in one's life causes boredom, -and boredom is always accompanied by displeasure. Now, since it may -be a long time before a striving meets with fulfilment, and since, -in the interval, it is content with the hope of fulfilment, we must -acknowledge that there is no connection in principle between pain -and striving, but that pain depends solely on the non-fulfilment of -the striving. Schopenhauer, then, is wrong, in any case, in regarding -desire or striving (will) as being in principle the source of pain. - -In truth, the very reverse of this is correct. Striving (desire) is in -itself pleasurable. Who does not know the pleasure which is caused by -the hope of a remote but intensely desired enjoyment? This pleasure -is the companion of all labour, the results of which will be enjoyed -by us only in the future. It is a pleasure which is wholly independent -of the attainment of the end. For when the aim has been attained, the -pleasure of satisfaction is added as a fresh thrill to the pleasure -of striving. If anyone were to argue that the pain caused by the -non-attainment of an aim is increased by the pain of disappointed -hope, and that thus, in the end, the pain of non-fulfilment will -still always outweigh the utmost possible pleasure of fulfilment, we -shall have to reply that the reverse may be the case, and that the -recollection of past pleasure at a time of unsatisfied desire will -as often mitigate the displeasure of non-satisfaction. Whoever at the -moment when his hopes suffer shipwreck exclaims, "I have done my part," -proves thereby my assertion. The blessed feeling of having willed the -best within one's powers is ignored by all who make every unsatisfied -desire an occasion for asserting that, not only has the pleasure of -fulfilment been lost, but that the enjoyment of the striving itself -has been destroyed. - -The satisfaction of a desire causes pleasure and its non-satisfaction -causes pain. But we have no right to infer from this fact that pleasure -is nothing but the satisfaction of a desire, and pain nothing but -its non-satisfaction. Both pleasure and pain may be experienced -without being the consequence of desire. All illness is pain not -preceded by any desire. If anyone were to maintain that illness is -unsatisfied desire for health, he would commit the error of regarding -the inevitable and unconscious wish not to fall ill as a positive -desire. When some one receives a legacy from a rich relative of whose -existence he had not the faintest idea, he experiences a pleasure -without having felt any preceding desire. - -Hence, if we set out to inquire whether the balance is on the side -of pleasure or of pain, we must allow in our calculation for the -pleasure of striving, the pleasure of the satisfaction of striving, -and the pleasure which comes to us without any striving whatever. On -the debit side we shall have to enter the displeasure of boredom, -the displeasure of unfulfilled striving, and, lastly, the displeasure -which comes to us without any striving on our part. Under this last -heading we shall have to put also the displeasure caused by work that -has been forced upon us, not chosen by ourselves. - -This leads us to the question, What is the right method for striking -the balance between the credit and the debit columns? Eduard von -Hartmann asserts that reason holds the scales. It is true that he -says (Philosophie des Unbewussten, 7th edition, vol. ii. p. 290): -"Pain and pleasure exist only in so far as they are actually being -felt." It follows that there can be no standard for pleasure other than -the subjective standard of feeling. I must feel whether the sum of my -disagreeable feelings, contrasted with my agreeable feelings, results -in me in a balance of pleasure or of pain. But, notwithstanding this, -Von Hartmann maintains that "though the value of the life of every -being can be set down only according to its own subjective measure, -yet it follows by no means that every being is able to compute the -correct algebraic sum of all the feelings of its life--or, in other -words, that its total estimate of its own life, with regard to its -subjective feelings, should be correct." But this means that rational -estimation of feelings is reinstated as the standard of value. [12] - -It is because Von Hartmann holds this view that he thinks it necessary, -in order to arrive at a correct valuation of life, to clear out of -the way those factors which falsify our judgment about the balance -of pleasure and of pain. He tries to do this in two ways: first, -by showing that our desire (instinct, will) operates as a disturbing -factor in the sober estimation of feeling-values; e.g., whereas we -ought to judge that sexual enjoyment is a source of evil, we are -beguiled by the fact that the sexual instinct is very strong in us, -into pretending to experience a pleasure which does not occur in -the alleged intensity at all. We are bent on indulging ourselves, -hence we do not acknowledge to ourselves that the indulgence makes -us suffer. Secondly, Von Hartmann subjects feelings to a criticism -designed to show, that the objects to which our feelings attach -themselves reveal themselves as illusions when examined by reason, -and that our feelings are destroyed from the moment that our constantly -growing insight sees through the illusions. - -Von Hartmann, then, conceives the matter as follows. Suppose an -ambitious man wants to determine clearly whether, up to the moment of -his inquiry, there has been a surplus of pleasure or of pain in his -life. He has to eliminate two sources of error that may affect his -judgment. Being ambitious, this fundamental feature of his character -will make him see all the pleasures of the public recognition of -his achievements larger than they are, and all the insults suffered -through rebuffs smaller than they are. At the time when he suffered -the rebuffs he felt the insults just because he is ambitious, but -in recollection they appear to him in a milder light, whereas the -pleasures of recognition to which he is so much more susceptible -leave a far deeper impression. Undeniably, it is a real benefit to an -ambitious man that it should be so, for the deception diminishes his -pain in the moment of self-analysis. But, none the less, it falsifies -his judgments. The sufferings which he now reviews as through a veil -were actually experienced by him in all their intensity. Hence he -enters them at a wrong valuation on the debit side of his account. In -order to arrive at a correct estimate, an ambitious man would have to -lay aside his ambition for the time of his inquiry. He would have to -review his past life without any distorting glasses before his mind's -eye, else he will resemble a merchant who, in making up his books, -enters among the items on the credit side his own zeal in business. - -But Von Hartmann goes even further. He says the ambitious man must -make clear to himself that the public recognition which he craves -is not worth having. By himself, or with the guidance of others, -he must attain the insight that rational beings cannot attach any -value to recognition by others, seeing that "in all matters which are -not vital questions of development, or which have not been definitely -settled by science," it is always as certain as anything can be "that -the majority is wrong and the minority right." "Whoever makes ambition -the lode-star of his life puts the happiness of his life at the mercy -of so fallible a judgment" (Philosophie des Unbewussten, vol. ii, -p. 332). If the ambitious man acknowledges all this to himself, he -is bound to regard all the achievements of his ambition as illusions, -including even the feelings which attach themselves to the satisfaction -of his ambitious desires. This is the reason why Von Hartmann says -that we must also strike out of the balance-sheet of our life-values -whatever is seen to be illusory in our feelings of pleasure. What -remains after that represents the sum-total of pleasure in life, -and this sum is so small compared with the sum-total of pain that -life is no enjoyment and non-existence preferable to existence. - -But whilst it is immediately evident that the interference of the -instinct of ambition produces self-deception in striking the balance -of pleasures and thus leads to a false result, we must none the less -challenge what Von Hartmann says concerning the illusory character of -the objects to which pleasure is attached. For the elimination, from -the credit-side of life, of all pleasurable feelings which accompany -actual or supposed illusions would positively falsify the balance -of pleasure and of pain. An ambitious man has genuinely enjoyed the -acclamations of the multitude, irrespective of whether subsequently -he himself, or some other person, recognises that this acclamation is -an illusion. The pleasure, once enjoyed, is not one whit diminished by -such recognition. Consequently the elimination of all these "illusory" -feelings from life's balance, so far from making our judgment about -our feelings more correct, actually cancels out of life feelings -which were genuinely there. - -And why are these feelings to be eliminated? He who has them derives -pleasure from them; he who has overcome them, gains through the -experience of self-conquest (not through the vain emotion: What a -noble fellow I am! but through the objective sources of pleasure which -lie in the self-conquest) a pleasure which is, indeed, spiritualised, -but none the less valuable for that. If we strike feelings from the -credit side of pleasure in our account, on the ground that they -are attached to objects which turn out to have been illusory, we -make the value of life dependent, not on the quantity, but on the -quality of pleasure, and this, in turn, on the value of the objects -which cause the pleasure. But if I am to determine the value of life -only by the quantity of pleasure or pain which it brings, I have no -right to presuppose something else by which first to determine the -positive or negative value of pleasure. If I say I want to compare -quantity of pleasure and quantity of pain, in order to see which is -greater, I am bound to bring into my account all pleasures and pains -in their actual intensities, regardless of whether they are based on -illusions or not. If I credit a pleasure which rests on an illusion -with a lesser value for life than one which can justify itself before -the tribunal of reason, I make the value of life dependent on factors -other than mere quantity of pleasure. - -Whoever, like Eduard von Hartmann, puts down pleasure as less valuable -when it is attached to a worthless object, is like a merchant who -enters the considerable profits of a toy-factory at only one-quarter -of their real value on the ground that the factory produces nothing -but playthings for children. - -If the point is simply to weigh quantity of pleasure against quantity -of pain, we ought to leave the illusory character of the objects of -some pleasures entirely out of account. - -The method, then, which Von Hartmann recommends, viz., rational -criticism of the quantities of pleasure and pain produced by life, -has taught us so far how we are to get the data for our calculation, -i.e., what we are to put down on the one side of our account and what -on the other. But how are we to make the actual calculation? Is reason -able also to strike the balance? - -A merchant makes a miscalculation when the gain calculated by him does -not balance with the profits which he has demonstrably enjoyed from his -business or is still expecting to enjoy. Similarly, the philosopher -will undoubtedly have made a mistake in his estimate, if he cannot -demonstrate in actual feeling the surplus of pleasure or, as the case -may be, of pain which his manipulation of the account may have yielded. - -For the present I shall not criticise the calculations of those -Pessimists who support their estimate of the value of the world by -an appeal to reason. But if we are to decide whether to carry on the -business of life or not, we shall demand first to be shown where the -alleged balance of pain is to be found. - -Here we touch the point where reason is not in a position by itself -to determine the surplus of pleasure or of pain, but where it must -exhibit this surplus in life as something actually felt. For man -reaches reality not through concepts by themselves, but through the -interpenetration of concepts and percepts (and feelings are percepts) -which thinking brings about (cp. pp. 82 ff.). A merchant will give -up his business only when the loss of goods, as calculated by his -accountant, is actually confirmed by the facts. If the facts do not -bear out the calculation, he asks his accountant to check the account -once more. That is exactly what a man will do in the business of -life. If a philosopher wants to prove to him that the pain is far -greater than the pleasure, but that he does not feel it so, then he -will reply: "You have made a mistake in your theorisings; repeat -your analysis once more." But if there comes a time in a business -when the losses are really so great that the firm's credit no longer -suffices to satisfy the creditors, bankruptcy results, even though -the merchant may avoid keeping himself informed by careful accounts -about the state of his affairs. Similarly, supposing the quantity -of pain in a man's life became at any time so great that no hope -(credit) of future pleasure could help him to get over the pain, -the bankruptcy of life's business would inevitably follow. - -Now the number of those who commit suicide is relatively small compared -with the number of those who live bravely on. Only very few men give up -the business of life because of the pain involved. What follows? Either -that it is untrue to say that the quantity of pain is greater than -the quantity of pleasure, or that we do not make the continuation of -life dependent on the quantity of felt pleasure or pain. - -In a very curious way, Eduard von Hartmann's Pessimism, having -concluded that life is valueless because it contains a surplus of pain, -yet affirms the necessity of going on with life. This necessity lies -in the fact that the world-purpose mentioned above (p. 216) can be -achieved only by the ceaseless, devoted labour of human beings. But -so long as men still pursue their egoistical appetites they are unfit -for this devoted labour. It is not until experience and reason have -convinced them that the pleasures which Egoism pursues are incapable -of attainment, that they give themselves up to their proper task. In -this way the pessimistic conviction is offered as the fountain of -unselfishness. An education based on Pessimism is to exterminate -Egoism by convincing it of the hopelessness of achieving its aims. - -According to this view, then, the striving for pleasure is -fundamentally inherent in human nature. It is only through the insight -into the impossibility of satisfaction that this striving abdicates -in favour of the higher tasks of humanity. - -It is, however, impossible to say of this ethical theory, which -expects from the establishment of Pessimism a devotion to unselfish -ends in life, that it really overcomes Egoism in the proper sense of -the word. The moral ideas are said not to be strong enough to dominate -the will until man has learnt that the selfish striving after pleasure -cannot lead to any satisfaction. Man, whose selfishness desires the -grapes of pleasure, finds them sour because he cannot attain them, -and so he turns his back on them and devotes himself to an unselfish -life. Moral ideals, then, according to the opinion of Pessimists, -are too weak to overcome Egoism, but they establish their kingdom -on the territory which previous recognition of the hopelessness of -Egoism has cleared for them. - -If men by nature strive after pleasure but are unable to attain it, -it follows that annihilation of existence and salvation through -non-existence are the only rational ends. And if we accept the view -that the real bearer of the pain of the world is God, it follows that -the task of men consists in helping to bring about the salvation of -God. To commit suicide does not advance, but hinders, the realisation -of this aim. God must rationally be conceived as having created men -for the sole purpose of bringing about his salvation through their -action, else would creation be purposeless. Every one of us has to -perform his own definite task in the general work of salvation. If he -withdraws from the task by suicide, another has to do the work which -was intended for him. Somebody else must bear in his stead the agony -of existence. And since in every being it is, at bottom, God who is -the ultimate bearer of all pain, it follows that to commit suicide -does not in the least diminish the quantity of God's pain, but rather -imposes upon God the additional difficulty of providing a substitute. - -This whole theory presupposes that pleasure is the standard of value -for life. Now life manifests itself through a number of instincts -(needs). If the value of life depended on its producing more pleasure -than pain, an instinct would have to be called valueless which brought -to its owner a balance of pain. Let us, if you please, inspect instinct -and pleasure, in order to see whether the former can be measured by -the latter. And lest we give rise to the suspicion that life does not -begin for us below the sphere of the "aristocrats of the intellect," we -shall begin our examination with a "purely animal" need, viz., hunger. - -Hunger arises when our organs are unable to continue functioning -without a fresh supply of food. What a hungry man desires, in the -first instance, is to have his hunger stilled. As soon as the supply -of nourishment has reached the point where hunger ceases, everything -has been attained that the food-instinct craves. The pleasure which is -connected with satiety consists, to begin with, in the removal of the -pain which is caused by hunger. But to the mere food-instinct there -is added a further need. For man does not merely desire to restore, -by the consumption of food, the disturbance in the functioning of his -organs, or to get rid of the pain of hunger, but he seeks to effect -this to the accompaniment of pleasurable sensations of taste. When -he feels hungry, and is within half an hour of a meal to which he -looks forward with pleasure, he avoids spoiling his enjoyment of the -better food by taking inferior food which might satisfy his hunger -sooner. He needs hunger in order to get the full enjoyment out of -his meal. Thus hunger becomes for him at the same time a cause of -pleasure. Supposing all the hunger in the world could be satisfied, -we should get the total quantity of pleasure which we owe to the -existence of the desire for nourishment. But we should still have to -add the additional pleasure which gourmets gain by cultivating the -sensibility of their taste-nerves beyond the common measure. - -The greatest conceivable value of this quantity of pleasure would be -reached, if no need remained unsatisfied which was in any way connected -with this kind of pleasure, and if with the smooth of pleasure we -had not at the same time to take a certain amount of the rough of pain. - -Modern Science holds the view that Nature produces more life than it -can maintain, i.e., that Nature also produces more hunger than it is -able to satisfy. The surplus of life thus produced is condemned to a -painful death in the struggle for existence. Granted that the needs -of life are, at every moment of the world-process, greater than the -available means of satisfaction, and that the enjoyment of life is -correspondingly diminished, yet such enjoyment as actually occurs is -not one whit reduced thereby. Wherever a desire is satisfied, there -the corresponding quantity of pleasure exists, even though in the -creature itself which desires, or in its fellow-creatures, there are -a large number of unsatisfied instincts. What is diminished is, not -the quantity, but the "value" of the enjoyment of life. If only a part -of the needs of a living creature find satisfaction, it experiences -still a corresponding pleasure. This pleasure is inferior in value in -proportion as it is inadequate to the total demand of life within a -given group of desires. We might represent this value as a fraction, -the numerator of which is the actually experienced pleasure, whilst the -denominator is the sum-total of needs. This fraction has the value 1 -when the numerator and the denominator are equal, i.e., when all needs -are also satisfied. The fraction becomes greater than 1 when a creature -experiences more pleasure than its desires demand. It becomes smaller -than 1 when the quantity of pleasure falls short of the sum-total -of desires. But the fraction can never have the value 0 so long as -the numerator has any value at all, however small. If a man were to -make up the account before his death and to distribute in imagination -over the whole of life the quantity belonging to a particular instinct -(e.g., hunger), as well as the demands of this instinct, then the total -pleasure which he has experienced might have only a very small value, -but this value would never become altogether nil. If the quantity of -pleasure remains constant, then with every increase in the needs of -the creature the value of the pleasure diminishes. The same is true for -the totality of life in Nature. The greater the number of creatures in -proportion to those which are able fully to satisfy their instincts, -the smaller is the average pleasure-value of life. The cheques on -life's pleasure which are drawn in our favour in the form of our -instincts, become increasingly less valuable in proportion as we -cannot expect to cash them at their full face value. Suppose I get -enough to eat on three days and am then compelled to go hungry for -another three days, the actual pleasure on the three days of eating is -not thereby diminished. But I have now to think of it as distributed -over six days, and this reduces its "value" for my food-instinct by -half. The same applies to the quantity of pleasure as measured by the -degree of my need. Suppose I have hunger enough for two sandwiches -and can only get one, the pleasure which this one gives me has only -half the value it would have had if the eating of it had stilled my -hunger. This is the way in which we determine the value of a pleasure -in life. We determine it by the needs of life. Our desires supply the -measure; pleasure is what is measured. The pleasure of stilling hunger -has value only because hunger exists, and it has determinate value -through the proportion which it bears to the intensity of the hunger. - -Unfulfilled demands of our life throw their shadow even upon fulfilled -desires, and thus detract from the value of pleasurable hours. But we -may speak also of the present value of a feeling of pleasure. This -value is the smaller, the more insignificant the pleasure is in -proportion to the duration and intensity of our desire. - -A quantity of pleasure has its full value for us when its duration and -degree exactly coincide with our desire. A quantity of pleasure which -is smaller than our desire diminishes the value of the pleasure. A -quantity which is greater produces a surplus which has not been -demanded and which is felt as pleasure only so long as, whilst -enjoying the pleasure, we can correspondingly increase the intensity -of our desire. If we are not able to keep pace in the increase of -our desire with the increase in pleasure, then pleasure turns into -displeasure. The object which would otherwise satisfy us, when it -assails us unbidden makes us suffer. This proves that pleasure has -value for us only so long as we have desires by which to measure -it. An excess of pleasurable feeling turns into pain. This may be -observed especially in those men whose desire for a given kind of -pleasure is very small. In people whose desire for food is dulled, -eating easily produces nausea. This again shows that desire is the -measure of value for pleasure. - -Now Pessimism might reply that an unsatisfied desire for food produces, -not only the pain of a lost enjoyment, but also positive ills, agony, -and misery in the world. It appeals for confirmation to the untold -misery of all who are harassed by anxieties about food, and to the -vast amount of pain which for these unfortunates results indirectly -from their lack of food. And if it wants to extend its assertion also -to non-human nature, it can point to the agonies of animals which, -in certain seasons, die from lack of food. Concerning all these evils -the Pessimist maintains that they far outweigh the quantity of pleasure -which the food-instinct brings into the world. - -There is no doubt that it is possible to compare pleasure and pain -one with another, and determine the surplus of the one or the other -as we determine commercial gain or loss. But if Pessimists think that -a surplus on the side of pain is a ground for inferring that life is -valueless, they fall into the mistake of making a calculation which -in actual life is never made. - -Our desire, in any given case, is directed to a particular object. The -value of the pleasure of satisfaction, as we have seen, will be the -greater in proportion as the quantity of the pleasure is greater -relatively to the intensity of our desire. [13] It depends, further, -on this intensity how large a quantity of pain we are willing to -bear in order to gain the pleasure. We compare the quantity of pain, -not with the quantity of pleasure, but with the intensity of our -desire. He who finds great pleasure in eating will, by reason of his -pleasure in better times, be more easily able to bear a period of -hunger than one who does not derive pleasure from the satisfaction -of the instinct for food. A woman who wants a child compares the -pleasures resulting from the possession of a child, not with the -quantities of pain due to pregnancy, birth, nursing, etc., but with -her desire for the possession of the child. - -We never aim at a certain quantity of pleasure in the abstract, -but at concrete satisfaction of a perfectly determinate kind. When -we are aiming at a definite object or a definite sensation, it -will not satisfy us to be offered some other object or some other -sensation, even though they give the same amount of pleasure. If we -desire satisfaction of hunger, we cannot substitute for the pleasure -which this satisfaction would bring a pleasure equally great but -produced by a walk. Only if our desire were, quite generally, for -a certain quantity of pleasure, would it have to die away at once -if this pleasure were unattainable except at the price of an even -greater quantity of pain. But because we desire a determinate kind of -satisfaction, we experience the pleasure of realisation even when, -along with it, we have to bear an even greater pain. The instincts -of living beings tend in a determinate direction and aim at concrete -objects, and it is just for this reason that it is impossible, in our -calculations, to set down as an equivalent factor the quantities of -pain which we have to bear in the pursuit of our object. Provided the -desire is sufficiently intense to be still to some degree in existence -even after having overcome the pain--however great that pain, taken -in the abstract, may be--the pleasure of satisfaction may still be -enjoyed to its full extent. The desire, therefore, does not measure -the pain directly against the pleasure which we attain, but indirectly -by measuring the pain (proportionately) against its own intensity. The -question is not whether the pleasure to be gained is greater than the -pain, but whether the desire for the object at which we aim is greater -than the inhibitory effect of the pain which we have to face. If -the inhibition is greater than the desire, the latter yields to the -inevitable, slackens, and ceases to strive. But inasmuch as we strive -after a determinate kind of satisfaction, the pleasure we gain thereby -acquires an importance which makes it possible, once satisfaction has -been attained, to allow in our calculation for the inevitable pain -only in so far as it has diminished the intensity of our desire. If -I am passionately fond of beautiful views, I never calculate the -amount of pleasure which the view from the mountain-top gives me as -compared directly with the pain of the toilsome ascent and descent; -but I reflect whether, after having overcome all difficulties, my -desire for the view will still be sufficiently intense. Thus pleasure -and pain can be made commensurate only mediately through the intensity -of the desire. Hence the question is not at all whether there is a -surplus of pleasure or of pain, but whether the desire for pleasure -is sufficiently intense to overcome the pain. - -A proof for the accuracy of this view is to be found in the fact, -that we put a higher value on pleasure when it has to be purchased -at the price of great pain than when it simply falls into our lap -like a gift from heaven. When sufferings and agonies have toned down -our desire and yet after all our aim is attained, then the pleasure -is all the greater in proportion to the intensity of the desire that -has survived. Now it is just this proportion which, as I have shown -(p. 233), represents the value of the pleasure. A further proof is to -be found in the fact that all living creatures (including men) develop -their instincts as long as they are able to bear the opposition of -pains and agonies. The struggle for existence is but a consequence -of this fact. All living creatures strive to expand, and only those -abandon the struggle whose desires are throttled by the overwhelming -magnitude of the difficulties with which they meet. Every living -creature seeks food until sheer lack of food destroys its life. Man, -too, does not turn his hand against himself until, rightly or wrongly, -he believes that he cannot attain those aims in life which alone -seem to him worth striving for. So long as he still believes in -the possibility of attaining what he thinks worth striving for, he -will battle against all pains and miseries. Philosophy would have to -convince man that striving is rational only when pleasure outweighs -pain, for it is his nature to strive for the attainment of the objects -which he desires, so long as he can bear the inevitable incidental -pain, however great that may be. Such a philosophy, however, would be -mistaken, because it would make the human will dependent on a factor -(the surplus of pleasure over pain) which, at first, is wholly foreign -to man's point of view. The original measure of his will is his desire, -and desire asserts itself as long as it can. If I am compelled, -in purchasing a certain quantity of apples, to take twice as many -rotten ones as sound ones--because the seller wishes to clear out his -stock--I shall not hesitate a moment to take the bad apples as well, -if I put so high a value on the smaller quantity of good apples that -I am prepared, in addition to the purchase price, to bear also the -expense for the transportation of the rotten goods. This example -illustrates the relation between the quantities of pleasure and of -pain which are caused by a given instinct. I determine the value of -the good apples, not by subtracting the sum of the good from that of -the bad ones, but by the fact that, in spite of the presence of the -bad ones, I still attach a value to the good ones. - -Just as I leave out of account the bad apples in the enjoyment of -the good ones, so I surrender myself to the satisfaction of a desire -after having shaken off the inevitable pains. - -Supposing even Pessimism were in the right with its assertion that the -world contains more pain than pleasure, it would nevertheless have no -influence upon the will, for living beings would still strive after -such pleasure as remains. The empirical proof that pain overbalances -pleasure is indeed effective for showing up the futility of that -school of philosophy, which looks for the value of life in a surplus -of pleasure (Eudæmonism), but not for exhibiting the will, as such, as -irrational. For the will is not set upon a surplus of pleasure, but on -whatever quantity of pleasure remains after subtracting the pain. This -remaining pleasure still appears always as an object worth pursuing. - -An attempt has been made to refute Pessimism by asserting that it is -impossible to determine by calculation the surplus of pleasure or -of pain in the world. The possibility of every calculation depends -on our being able to compare the things to be calculated in respect -of their quantity. Every pain and every pleasure has a definite -quantity (intensity and duration). Further, we can compare pleasurable -feelings of different kinds one with another, at least approximately, -with regard to their intensity. We know whether we derive more -pleasure from a good cigar or from a good joke. No objection can be -raised against the comparability of different pleasures and pains -in respect of their intensity. The thinker who sets himself the -task of determining the surplus of pleasure or pain in the world, -starts from presuppositions which are undeniably legitimate. It is -possible to maintain that the Pessimistic results are false, but -it is not possible to doubt that quantities of pleasure and pain -can be scientifically estimated, and that the surplus of the one -or the other can thereby be determined. It is incorrect, however, -to assert that from this calculation any conclusions can be drawn -for the human will. The cases in which we really make the value of -our activity dependent on whether pleasure or pain shows a surplus, -are those in which the objects towards which our activity is directed -are indifferent to us. If it is a question whether, after the day's -work, I am to amuse myself by a game or by light conversation, and -if I am totally indifferent what I do so long as it amuses me, then I -simply ask myself: What gives me the greatest surplus of pleasure? And -I abandon the activity altogether if the scales incline towards the -side of displeasure. If we are buying a toy for a child we consider, -in selecting, what will give him the greatest pleasure, but in all -other cases we are not determined exclusively by considerations of -the balance of pleasure. - -Hence, if Pessimistic thinkers believe that they are preparing -the ground for an unselfish devotion to the work of civilisation, -by demonstrating that there is a greater quantity of pain than of -pleasure in life, they forget altogether that the human will is so -constituted that it cannot be influenced by this knowledge. The whole -striving of men is directed towards the greatest possible satisfaction -that is attainable after overcoming all difficulties. The hope of this -satisfaction is the basis of all human activity. The work of every -single individual and the whole achievement of civilisation have -their roots in this hope. The Pessimistic theory of Ethics thinks -it necessary to represent the pursuit of pleasure as impossible, -in order that man may devote himself to his proper moral tasks. But -these moral tasks are nothing but the concrete natural and spiritual -instincts; and he strives to satisfy these notwithstanding all -incidental pain. The pursuit of pleasure, then, which the Pessimist -sets himself to eradicate is nowhere to be found. But the tasks which -man has to fulfil are fulfilled by him because from his very nature -he wills to fulfil them. The Pessimistic system of Ethics maintains -that a man cannot devote himself to what he recognises as his task -in life until he has first given up the desire for pleasure. But no -system of Ethics can ever invent other tasks than the realisation of -those satisfactions which human desires demand, and the fulfilment of -man's moral ideas. No Ethical theory can deprive him of the pleasure -which he experiences in the realisation of what he desires. When -the Pessimist says, "Do not strive after pleasure, for pleasure is -unattainable; strive instead after what you recognise to be your task," -we must reply that it is human nature to strive to do one's tasks, -and that philosophy has gone astray in inventing the principle that man -strives for nothing but pleasure. He aims at the satisfaction of what -his nature demands, and the attainment of this satisfaction is to him -a pleasure. Pessimistic Ethics, in demanding that we should strive, -not after pleasure, but after the realisation of what we recognise as -our task, lays its finger on the very thing which man wills in virtue -of his own nature. There is no need for man to be turned inside out by -philosophy, there is no need for him to discard his nature, in order -to be moral. Morality means striving for an end so long as the pain -connected with this striving does not inhibit the desire for the end -altogether; and this is the essence of all genuine will. Ethics is not -founded on the eradication of all desire for pleasure, in order that, -in its place, bloodless moral ideas may set up their rule where no -strong desire for pleasure stands in their way, but it is based on -the strong will, sustained by ideal intuitions, which attains its -end even when the path to it is full of thorns. - -Moral ideals have their root in the moral imagination of man. Their -realisation depends on the desire for them being sufficiently intense -to overcome pains and agonies. They are man's own intuitions. In them -his spirit braces itself to action. They are what he wills, because -their realisation is his highest pleasure. He needs no Ethical theory -first to forbid him to strive for pleasure and then to prescribe -to him what he shall strive for. He will, of himself, strive for -moral ideals provided his moral imagination is sufficiently active -to inspire him with the intuitions, which give strength to his will -to overcome all resistance. - -If a man strives towards sublimely great ideals, it is because they are -the content of his will, and because their realisation will bring him -an enjoyment compared with which the pleasure which inferior spirits -draw from the satisfaction of their commonplace needs is a mere -nothing. Idealists delight in translating their ideals into reality. - -Anyone who wants to eradicate the pleasure which the fulfilment of -human desires brings, will have first to degrade man to the position -of a slave who does not act because he wills, but because he must. For -the attainment of the object of will gives pleasure. What we call the -good is not what a man must do, but what he wills to do when he unfolds -the fulness of his nature. Anyone who does not acknowledge this must -deprive man of all the objects of his will, and then prescribe to -him from without what he is to make the content of his will. - -Man values the satisfaction of a desire because the desire springs -from his own nature. What he attains is valuable because it is the -object of his will. If we deny any value to the ends which men do -will, then we shall have to look for the ends that are valuable among -objects which men do not will. - -A system of Ethics, then, which is built up on Pessimism has its root -in the contempt for man's moral imagination. Only he who does not -consider the individual human mind capable of determining for itself -the content of its striving, can look for the sum and substance of -will in the craving for pleasure. A man without imagination does not -create moral ideas; they must be imparted to him. Physical nature -sees to it that he seeks the satisfaction of his lower desires; but -for the development of the whole man the desires which have their -origin in the spirit are fully as necessary. Only those who believe -that man has no such spiritual desires at all can maintain that they -must be imparted to him from without. On that view it will also be -correct to say that it is man's duty to do what he does not will to -do. Every Ethical system which demands of man that he should suppress -his will in order to fulfil tasks which he does not will, works, not -with the whole man, but with a stunted being who lacks the faculty -of spiritual desires. For a man who has been harmoniously developed, -the so-called ideas of the Good lie, not without, but within the -range of his will. Moral action consists, not in the extirpation -of one's individual will, but in the fullest development of human -nature. To regard moral ideals as attainable only on condition that -man destroys his individual will, is to ignore the fact that these -ideals are as much rooted in man's will as the satisfaction of the -so-called animal instincts. - -It cannot be denied that the views here outlined may easily be -misunderstood. Immature youths without any moral imagination like to -look upon the instincts of their half-developed natures as the full -substance of humanity, and reject all moral ideas which they have -not themselves originated, in order that they may "live themselves -out" without restriction. But it goes without saying that a theory -which holds for a fully developed man does not hold for half-developed -boys. Anyone who still requires to be brought by education to the point -where his moral nature breaks through the shell of his lower passions, -cannot expect to be measured by the same standard as a mature man. But -it was not my intention to set down what a half-fledged youth requires -to be taught, but the essential nature of a mature man. My intention -was to demonstrate the possibility of freedom, which becomes manifest, -not in actions physically or psychically determined, but in actions -sustained; by spiritual intuitions. - -Every mature man is the maker of his own value. He does not aim at -pleasure, which comes to him as a gift of grace on the part of Nature -or of the Creator; nor does he live for the sake of what he recognises -as duty, after he has put away from him the desire for pleasure. He -acts as he wills, that is, in accordance with his moral intuitions; -and he finds in the attainment of what he wills the true enjoyment of -life. He determines the value of his life by measuring his attainments -against his aims. An Ethical system which puts "ought" in the place of -"will," duty in the place of inclination, is consistent in determining -the value of man by the ratio between the demands of duty and his -actual achievements. It applies to man a measure that is external to -his own nature. The view which I have here developed points man back -to himself. It recognises as the true value of life nothing except -what each individual regards as such by the measure of his own will. A -value of life which the individual does not recognise is as little -acknowledged by my views as a purpose of life which does not spring -from the value thus recognised. My view looks upon the individual as -his own master and the assessor of his own value. - - - - -ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -The argument of this chapter is open to misapprehension by those who -obstinately insist on the apparent objection, that the will, as such, -is the irrational factor in man, and that its irrationality should -be exhibited in order to make man see, that the goal of his moral -endeavour ought to be his ultimate emancipation from will. Precisely -such an illusory objection has been brought against me by a competent -critic who urged that it is the business of the philosopher to -make good what animals and most men thoughtlessly forget, viz., to -strike a genuine balance of life's account. But the objection ignores -precisely the main point. If freedom is to be realised, the will in -human nature must be sustained by intuitive thinking. At the same -time we find that the will may also be determined by factors other -than intuition, and that morality and its work can have no other root -than the free realisation of intuition issuing from man's essential -nature. Ethical Individualism is well fitted to exhibit morality in -its full dignity. It does not regard true morality as the outward -conformity of the will to a norm. Morality, for it, consists in the -actions which issue from the unfolding of man's moral will as an -integral part of his whole nature, so that immorality appears to man -as a stunting and crippling of his nature. - - - - - - - - -XIV - -THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE GENUS - - -The view that man is a wholly self-contained, free individuality stands -in apparent conflict with the facts, that he appears as a member of -a natural whole (race, tribe, nation, family, male or female sex), -and that he acts within a whole (state, church, etc.). He exhibits -the general characteristics of the community to which he belongs, -and gives to his actions a content which is defined by the place -which he occupies within a social whole. - -This being so, is any individuality left at all? Can we regard man -as a whole in himself, in view of the fact that he grows out of a -whole and fits as a member into a whole? - -The character and function of a member of a whole are defined by -the whole. A tribe is a whole, and all members of the tribe exhibit -the peculiar characteristics which are conditioned by the nature of -the tribe. The character and activity of the individual member are -determined by the character of the tribe. Hence the physiognomy and -the conduct of the individual have something generic about them. When -we ask why this or that in a man is so or so, we are referred from -the individual to the genus. The genus explains why something in the -individual appears in the form observed by us. - -But man emancipates himself from these generic characteristics. He -develops qualities and activities the reason for which we can seek -only in himself. The generic factors serve him only as a means to -develop his own individual nature. He uses the peculiarities with -which nature has endowed him as material, and gives them a form which -expresses his own individuality. We seek in vain for the reason -of such an expression of a man's individuality in the laws of the -genus. We are dealing here with an individual who can be explained -only through himself. If a man has reached the point of emancipation -from what is generic in him, and we still attempt to explain all his -qualities by reference to the character of the genus, then we lack -the organ for apprehending what is individual. - -It is impossible to understand a human being completely if one makes -the concept of the genus the basis of one's judgment. The tendency -to judge according to the genus is most persistent where differences -of sex are involved. Man sees in woman, woman in man, almost always -too much of the generic characteristics of the other's sex, and too -little of what is individual in the other. In practical life this does -less harm to men than to women. The social position of women is, in -most instances, so low because it is not determined by the individual -characteristics of each woman herself, but by the general ideas which -are current concerning the natural function and needs of woman. A -man's activity in life is determined by his individual capacity and -inclination, whereas a woman's activity is supposed to be determined -solely by the fact that she is just a woman. Woman is to be the slave -of the generic, of the general idea of womanhood. So long as men -debate whether woman, from her "natural disposition," is fitted for -this, that, or the other profession, the so-called Woman's Question -will never advance beyond the most elementary stage. What it lies in -woman's nature to strive for had better be left to woman herself to -decide. If it is true that women are fitted only for that profession -which is theirs at present, then they will hardly have it in them to -attain any other. But they must be allowed to decide for themselves -what is conformable to their nature. To all who fear an upheaval of -our social structure, should women be treated as individuals and not -as specimens of their sex, we need only reply that a social structure -in which the status of one-half of humanity is unworthy of a human -being stands itself in great need of improvement. [14] - -Anyone who judges human beings according to their generic character -stops short at the very point beyond which they begin to be individuals -whose activity rests on free self-determination. Whatever lies short of -this point may naturally become matter for scientific study. Thus the -characteristics of race, tribe, nation, and sex are the subject-matter -of special sciences. Only men who are simply specimens of the genus -could possibly fit the generic picture which the methods of these -sciences produce. But all these sciences are unable to get as far -as the unique character of the single individual. Where the sphere -of freedom (thinking and acting) begins, there the possibility -of determining the individual according to the laws of his genus -ceases. The conceptual content which man, by an act of thought, -has to connect with percepts, in order to possess himself fully of -reality (cp. pp. 83 ff.), cannot be fixed by anyone once and for all, -and handed down to humanity ready-made. The individual must gain -his concepts through his own intuition. It is impossible to deduce -from any concept of the genus how the individual ought to think; -that depends singly and solely on the individual himself. So, again, -it is just as impossible to determine, on the basis of the universal -characteristics of human nature, what concrete ends the individual -will set before himself. Anyone who wants to understand the single -individual must penetrate to the innermost core of his being, and -not stop short at those qualities which he shares with others. In -this sense every single human being is a problem. And every science -which deals only with abstract thoughts and generic concepts is but -a preparation for the kind of knowledge which we gain when a human -individual communicates to us his way of viewing the world, and for -that other kind of knowledge which each of us gains from the content -of his own will. Wherever we feel that here we are dealing with a -man who has emancipated his thinking from all that is generic, and -his will from the grooves typical of his kind, there we must cease -to call in any concepts of our own making if we would understand -his nature. Knowledge consists in the combination by thought of a -concept and a percept. With all other objects the observer has to -gain his concepts through his intuition. But if the problem is to -understand a free individuality, we need only to take over into our -own minds those concepts by which the individual determines himself, -in their pure form (without admixture). Those who always mix their -own ideas into their judgment on another person can never attain to -the understanding of an individuality. Just as the free individual -emancipates himself from the characteristics of the genus, so our -knowledge of the individual must emancipate itself from the methods -by which we understand what is generic. - -A man counts as a free spirit in a human community only to the degree -in which he has emancipated himself, in the way we have indicated, from -all that is generic. No man is all genus, none is all individuality; -but every man gradually emancipates a greater or lesser sphere of -his being, both from the generic characteristics of animal life, -and from the laws of human authorities which rule him despotically. - -In respect of that part of his nature for which man is not able to -win this freedom for himself, he forms a member within the organism -of nature and of spirit. He lives, in this respect, by the imitation -of others, or in obedience to their command. But ethical value belongs -only to that part of his conduct which springs from his intuitions. And -whatever moral instincts man possesses through the inheritance of -social instincts, acquire ethical value through being taken up into -his intuitions. In such ethical intuitions all moral activity of men -has its root. To put this differently: the moral life of humanity is -the sum-total of the products of the moral imagination of free human -individuals. This is Monism's confession of faith. - - - - - - - - -ULTIMATE QUESTIONS - - -XV - -THE CONSEQUENCES OF MONISM - - -An explanation of Nature on a single principle, or, in other -words, Monism, derives from human experience all the material -which it requires for the explanation of the world. In the -same way, it looks for the springs of action also within the -world of observation, i.e., in that human part of Nature which -is accessible to our self-observation, and more particularly in -the moral imagination. Monism declines to seek outside that world -the ultimate grounds of the world which we perceive and think. For -Monism, the unity which reflective observation adds to the manifold -multiplicity of percepts, is identical with the unity which the human -desire for knowledge demands, and through which this desire seeks -entrance into the physical and spiritual realms. Whoever looks for -another unity behind this one, only shows that he fails to perceive -the coincidence of the results of thinking with the demands of -the instinct for knowledge. A particular human individual is not -something cut off from the universe. He is a part of the universe, -and his connection with the cosmic whole is broken, not in reality, -but only for our perception. At first we apprehend the human part -of the universe as a self-existing thing, because we are unable to -perceive the cords and ropes by which the fundamental forces of the -cosmos keep turning the wheel of our life. - -All who remain at this perceptual standpoint see the part of the -whole as if it were a truly independent, self-existing thing, -a monad which gains all its knowledge of the rest of the world in -some mysterious manner from without. But Monism has shown that we can -believe in this independence only so long as thought does not gather -our percepts into the network of the conceptual world. As soon as this -happens, all partial existence in the universe, all isolated being, -reveals itself as a mere appearance due to perception. Existence as -a self-contained totality can be predicated only of the universe as a -whole. Thought destroys the appearances due to perception and assigns -to our individual existence a place in the life of the cosmos. The -unity of the conceptual world which contains all objective percepts, -has room also within itself for the content of our subjective -personality. Thought gives us the true structure of reality as a -self-contained unity, whereas the multiplicity of percepts is but -an appearance conditioned by our organisation (cp. pp. 178 ff.). The -recognition of the true unity of reality, as against the appearance -of multiplicity, is at all times the goal of human thought. Science -strives to apprehend our apparently disconnected percepts as a unity by -tracing their inter-relations according to natural law. But, owing to -the prejudice that an inter-relation discovered by human thought has -only a subjective validity, thinkers have sought the true ground of -unity in some object transcending the world of our experience (God, -will, absolute spirit, etc.). Further, basing themselves on this -prejudice, men have tried to gain, in addition to their knowledge -of inter-relations within experience, a second kind of knowledge -transcending experience, which should reveal the connection between -empirical inter-relations and those realities which lie beyond -the limits of experience (Metaphysics). The reason why, by logical -thinking, we understand the nexus of the world, was thought to be that -an original creator has built up the world according to logical laws, -and, similarly, the ground of our actions was thought to lie in the -will of this original being. It was overlooked that thinking embraces -in one grasp the subjective and the objective, and that it communicates -to us the whole of reality in the union which it effects between -percept and concept. Only so long as we contemplate the laws which -pervade and determine all percepts, in the abstract form of concepts, -do we indeed deal only with something purely subjective. But this -subjectivity does not belong to the content of the concept which, by -means of thought, is added to the percept. This content is taken, not -from the subject, but from reality. It is that part of reality which -is inaccessible to perception. It is experience, but not the kind of -experience which comes from perception. Those who cannot understand -that the concept is something real, have in mind only the abstract -form, in which we fix and isolate the concept. But in this isolation, -the concept is as much dependent solely on our organisation as is -the percept. The tree which I perceive, taken in isolation by itself, -has no existence; it exists only as a member in the immense mechanism -of Nature, and is possible only in real connection with Nature. An -abstract concept, taken by itself, has as little reality as a percept -taken by itself. The percept is that part of reality which is given -objectively, the concept that part which is given subjectively (by -intuition; cp. pp. 90 ff.). Our mental organisation breaks up reality -into these two factors. The one factor is apprehended by perception, -the other by intuition. Only the union of the two, which consists of -the percept fitted according to law into its place in the universe, is -reality in its full character. If we take mere percepts by themselves, -we have no reality but only a disconnected chaos. If we take the laws -which determine percepts by themselves, we have nothing but abstract -concepts. Reality is not to be found in the abstract concept. It is -revealed to the contemplative act of thought which regards neither -the concept by itself nor the percept by itself, but the union of both. - -Even the most orthodox Idealist will not deny that we live in the -real world (that, as real beings, we are rooted in it); but he will -deny that our knowledge, by means of its ideas, is able to grasp -reality as we live it. As against this view, Monism shows that -thought is neither subjective nor objective, but a principle which -holds together both these sides of reality. The contemplative act of -thought is a cognitive process which belongs itself to the sequence of -real events. By thought we overcome, within the limits of experience -itself, the one-sidedness of mere perception. We are not able by means -of abstract conceptual hypotheses (purely conceptual speculation) -to puzzle out the nature of the real, but in so far as we find for -our percepts the right concepts we live in the real. Monism does not -seek to supplement experience by something unknowable (transcending -experience), but finds reality in concept and percept. It does not -manufacture a metaphysical system out of pure concepts, because it -looks upon concepts as only one side of reality, viz., the side which -remains hidden from perception, but is meaningless except in union -with percepts. But Monism gives man the conviction that he lives in -the world of reality, and has no need to seek beyond the world for a -higher reality. It refuses to look for Absolute Reality anywhere but -in experience, because it recognises reality in the very content of -experience. Monism is satisfied with this reality, because it knows -that our thought points to no other. What Dualism seeks beyond the -world of experience, that Monism finds in this world itself. Monism -shows that our knowledge grasps reality in its true nature, not in a -purely subjective image. It holds the conceptual content of the world -to be identical for all human individuals (cp. pp. 84 ff.). According -to Monistic principles, every human individual regards every other -as akin to himself, because it is the same world-content which -expresses itself in all. In the single conceptual world there are -not as many concepts of "lion" as there are individuals who form the -thought of "lion," but only one. And the concept which A adds to the -percept of "lion" is identical with B's concept except so far as, -in each case, it is apprehended by a different perceiving subject -(cp. p. 85). Thought leads all perceiving subjects back to the ideal -unity in all multiplicity, which is common to them all. There is but -one ideal world, but it realises itself in human subjects as in a -multiplicity of individuals. So long as man apprehends himself merely -by self-observation, he looks upon himself as this particular being, -but so soon as he becomes conscious of the ideal world which shines -forth within him, and which embraces all particulars within itself, -he perceives that the Absolute Reality lives within him. Dualism fixes -upon the Divine Being as that which permeates all men and lives in them -all. Monism finds this universal Divine Life in Reality itself. The -ideal content of another subject is also my content, and I regard it -as a different content only so long as I perceive, but no longer when I -think. Every man embraces in his thought only a part of the total world -of ideas, and so far, individuals are distinguished one from another -also by the actual contents of their thought. But all these contents -belong to a self-contained whole, which comprises within itself the -thought-contents of all men. Hence every man, in so far as he thinks, -lays hold of the universal Reality which pervades all men. To fill -one's life with such thought-content is to live in Reality, and at -the same time to live in God. The thought of a Beyond owes its origin -to the misconception of those who believe that this world cannot have -the ground of its existence in itself. They do not understand that, -by thinking, they discover just what they demand for the explanation -of the perceptual world. This is the reason why no speculation has -ever produced any content which has not been borrowed from reality -as it is given to us. A personal God is nothing but a human being -transplanted into the Beyond. Schopenhauer's Will is the human will -made absolute. Hartmann's Unconscious, made up of idea and will, -is but a compound of two abstractions drawn from experience. Exactly -the same is true of all other transcendent principles. - -The truth is that the human mind never transcends the reality in which -it lives. Indeed, it has no need to transcend it, seeing that this -world contains everything that is required for its own explanation. If -philosophers declare themselves finally content when they have deduced -the world from principles which they borrow from experience and then -transplant into an hypothetical Beyond, the same satisfaction ought -to be possible, if these same principles are allowed to remain in this -world to which they belong anyhow. All attempts to transcend the world -are purely illusory, and the principles transplanted into the Beyond do -not explain the world any better than the principles which are immanent -in it. When thought understands itself, it does not demand any such -transcendence at all, for there is no thought-content which does not -find within the world a perceptual content, in union with which it can -form a real object. The objects of imagination, too, are contents which -have no validity, until they have been transformed into ideas that -refer to a perceptual content. Through this perceptual content they -have their place in reality. A concept the content of which is supposed -to lie beyond the world which is given to us, is an abstraction to -which no reality corresponds. Thought can discover only the concepts of -reality; in order to find reality itself, we need also perception. An -Absolute Being for which we invent a content, is a hypothesis which -no thought can entertain that understands itself. Monism does not -deny ideal factors; indeed, it refuses to recognise as fully real -a perceptual content which has no ideal counterpart, but it finds -nothing within the whole range of thought that is not immanent within -this world of ours. A science which restricts itself to a description -of percepts, without advancing to their ideal complements, is, for -Monism, but a fragment. But Monism regards as equally fragmentary -all abstract concepts which do not find their complement in percepts, -and which fit nowhere into the conceptual net that embraces the whole -perceptual world. Hence it knows no ideas referring to objects lying -beyond our experience and supposed to form the content of purely -hypothetical Metaphysics. Whatever mankind has produced in the way -of such ideas Monism regards as abstractions from experience, whose -origin in experience has been overlooked by their authors. - -Just as little, according to Monistic principles, are the ends of our -actions capable of being derived from the Beyond. So far as we can -think them, they must have their origin in human intuition. Man does -not adopt the purposes of an objective (transcendent) being as his -own individual purposes, but he pursues the ends which his own moral -imagination sets before him. The idea which realises itself in an -action is selected by the agent from the single ideal world and made -the basis of his will. Consequently his action is not a realisation -of commands which have been thrust into this world from the Beyond, -but of human intuitions which belong to this world. For Monism there -is no ruler of the world standing outside of us and determining the -aim and direction of our actions. There is for man no transcendent -ground of existence, the counsels of which he might discover, in order -thence to learn the ends to which he ought to direct his action. Man -must rest wholly upon himself. He must himself give a content to his -action. It is in vain that he seeks outside the world in which he lives -for motives of his will. If he is to go at all beyond the satisfaction -of the natural instincts for which Mother Nature has provided, he must -look for motives in his own moral imagination, unless he finds it more -convenient to let them be determined for him by the moral imagination -of others. In other words, he must either cease acting altogether, -or else act from motives which he selects for himself from the world -of his ideas, or which others select for him from that same world. If -he develops at all beyond a life absorbed in sensuous instincts and -in the execution of the commands of others, then there is nothing -that can determine him except himself. He has to act from a motive -which he gives to himself and which nothing else can determine for -him except himself. It is true that this motive is ideally determined -in the single world of ideas; but in actual fact it must be selected -by the agent from that world and translated into reality. Monism can -find the ground for the actual realisation of an idea through human -action only in the human being himself. That an idea should pass -into action must be willed by man before it can happen. Such a will -consequently has its ground only in man himself. Man, on this view, -is the ultimate determinant of his action. He is free. - - - - -1. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -In the second part of this book the attempt has been made to justify -the conviction that freedom is to be found in human conduct as it -really is. For this purpose it was necessary to sort out, from the -whole sphere of human conduct, those actions with respect to which -unprejudiced self-observation may appropriately speak of freedom. These -are the actions which appear as realisations of ideal intuitions. No -other actions will be called free by an unprejudiced observer. However, -open-minded self-observation compels man to regard himself as endowed -with the capacity for progress on the road towards ethical intuitions -and their realisation. Yet this open-minded observation of the ethical -nature of man is, by itself, insufficient to constitute the final court -of appeal for the question of freedom. For, suppose intuitive thinking -had itself sprung from some other essence; suppose its essence were -not grounded in itself, then the consciousness of freedom, which issues -from moral conduct, would prove to be a mere illusion. But the second -part of this book finds its natural support in the first part, which -presents intuitive thinking as an inward spiritual activity which man -experiences as such. To appreciate through experience this essence -of thinking is equivalent to recognising the freedom of intuitive -thinking. And once we know that this thinking is free, we know also -the sphere within which will may be called free. We shall regard man -as a free agent, if on the basis of inner experience we may attribute -to the life of intuitive thinking a self-sustaining essence. Whoever -cannot do this will be unable to discover any wholly unassailable -road to the belief in freedom. The experience to which we here refer -reveals in consciousness intuitive thinking, the reality of which -does not depend merely on our being conscious of it. Freedom, too, -is thereby revealed as the characteristic of all actions which issue -from the intuitions of consciousness. - - - - -2. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918). - -The argumentation of this book is built up on the fact of intuitive -thinking, which may be experienced in a purely spiritual way, and which -every perception inserts into reality so that reality comes thereby to -be known. All that this book aimed at presenting was the result of a -survey from the basis of our experience of intuitive thinking. However, -the intention also was to emphasise the systematic interpretation which -this thinking, as experienced by us, demands. It demands that we shall -not deny its presence in cognition as a self-sustaining experience. It -demands that we acknowledge its capacity for experiencing reality in -co-operation with perception, and that we do not make it seek reality -in a world outside experience and accessible only to inference, in -the face of which human thinking would be only a subjective activity. - -This view characterises thinking as that factor in man through which -he inserts himself spiritually into reality. (And, strictly, no one -should confuse this kind of world-view, which is based on thinking as -directly experienced, with mere Rationalism.) But, on the other hand, -the whole tenor of the preceding argumentation shows that perception -yields a determination of reality for human knowledge only when it -is taken hold of in thinking. Outside of thinking there is nothing to -characterise reality for what it is. Hence we have no right to imagine -that sense-perception is the only witness to reality. Whatever comes -to us by way of perception on our journey through life, we cannot -but expect. The only point open to question would be whether, from -the exclusive point of view of thinking as we intuitively experience -it, we have a right to expect that over and above sensuous perception -there is also spiritual perception. This expectation is justified. For, -though intuitive thinking is, on the one hand, an active process taking -place in the human mind, it is, on the other hand, also a spiritual -perception mediated by no sense-organ. It is a perception in which the -percipient is himself active, and a self-activity which is at the same -time perceived. In intuitive thinking man enters a spiritual world -also as a percipient. Whatever within this world presents itself to -him as percept in the same way in which the spiritual world of his own -thinking so presents itself, that is recognised by him as constituting -a world of spiritual perception. This world of spiritual perception we -may suppose to be standing in the same relation to thinking as does, -on the sensuous side, the world of sense-perception. Man does not -experience the world of spiritual perception as an alien something, -because he is already familiar in his intuitive thinking with an -experience of purely spiritual character. With such a world of -spiritual perception a number of the writings are concerned which -I have published since this present book appeared. The Philosophy -of Spiritual Activity lays the philosophical foundation for these -later writings. For it attempts to show that in the very experience -of thinking, rightly understood, we experience Spirit. This is the -reason why it appears to the author that no one will stop short of -entering the world of spiritual perception who has been able to adopt, -in all seriousness, the point of view of the Philosophy of Spiritual -Activity. True, logical deduction--by syllogisms--will not extract -out of the contents of this book the contents of the author's later -books. But a living understanding of what is meant in this book by -"intuitive thinking" will naturally prepare the way for living entry -into the world of spiritual perception. - - - - - - - - -TRUTH AND SCIENCE [15] - - -I - -PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS - - -Theory of Knowledge aims at being a scientific investigation of -the very fact which all other sciences take for granted without -examination, viz., knowing or knowledge-getting itself. To say this -is to attribute to it, from the very start, the character of being the -fundamental philosophical discipline. For, it is only this discipline -which can tell us what value and significance belong to the insight -gained by the other sciences. In this respect it is the foundation for -all scientific endeavour. But, it is clear that the Theory of Knowledge -can fulfil its task only if it works without any presuppositions of -its own, so far as that is possible in view of the nature of human -knowledge. This is probably conceded on all sides. And yet, a more -detailed examination of the better-known epistemological systems -reveals that, at the very starting-point of the inquiry, there is -made a whole series of assumptions which detract considerably from -the plausibility of the rest of the argument. In particular, it is -noticeable how frequently certain hidden assumptions are made in the -very formulation of the fundamental problems of epistemology. But, -if a science begins by misstating its problems, we must despair -from the start of finding the right solution. The history of the -sciences teaches us that countless errors, from which whole epochs have -suffered, are to be traced wholly and solely to the fact that certain -problems were wrongly formulated. For illustrations there is no need -to go back to Aristotle or to the Ars Magna Lulliana. There are plenty -of examples in more recent times. The numerous questions concerning -the purposes of the rudimentary organs of certain organisms could -be correctly formulated only after the discovery of the fundamental -law of biogenesis had created the necessary conditions. As long as -Biology was under the influence of teleological concepts, it was -impossible to put these problems in a form permitting a satisfactory -answer. What fantastic ideas, for example, were current concerning the -purpose of the so-called pineal gland, so long as it was fashionable -to frame biological questions in terms of "purpose." An answer was -not achieved until the solution of the problem was sought by the -method of Comparative Anatomy, and scientists asked whether this -organ might not be merely a residual survival in man from a lower -evolutionary level. Or, to mention yet another example, consider the -modifications in certain physical problems after the discovery of the -laws of the mechanical equivalents of heat and of the conservation -of energy! In short, the success of scientific investigations depends -essentially upon the investigator's ability to formulate his problems -correctly. Even though the Theory of Knowledge, as the presupposition -of all other sciences, occupies a position very different from -theirs, we may yet expect that for it, too, successful progress in -its investigations will become possible only when the fundamental -questions have been put in the correct form. - -The following discussions aim, in the first place, at such a -formulation of the problem of knowledge as will do justice to the -character of the Theory of Knowledge as a discipline which is without -any presuppositions whatever. Their secondary aim is to throw light on -the relation of J. G. Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre to such a fundamental -philosophical discipline. The reason why precisely Fichte's attempt -to provide an absolutely certain basis for the sciences will be -brought into closer relation with our own philosophical programme, -will become clear of itself in the course of our investigation. - - - - - - - - -II - -THE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEM OF KANT'S THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE - - -It is usual to designate Kant as the founder of the Theory of -Knowledge in the modern sense. Against this view it might plausibly -be argued that the history of philosophy records prior to Kant -numerous investigations which deserve to be regarded as something -more than mere beginnings of such a science. Thus Volkelt, in his -fundamental work on the Theory of Knowledge, [16] remarks that the -critical treatment of this discipline took its origin already with -Locke. But in the writings of even older philosophers, yes, even in -the philosophy of Ancient Greece, discussions are to be found which -at the present day are usually undertaken under the heading of Theory -of Knowledge. However, Kant has revolutionised all problems under this -head from their very depths up, and, following him, numerous thinkers -have worked them through so thoroughly that all the older attempts at -solutions may be found over again either in Kant himself or else in -his successors. Hence, for the purposes of a purely systematic, as -distinct from a historical, study of the Theory of Knowledge, there -is not much danger of omitting any important phenomenon by taking -account only of the period since Kant burst upon the world with his -Critique of Pure Reason. All previous epistemological achievements -are recapitulated during this period. - -The fundamental question of Kant's Theory of Knowledge is, How are -synthetic judgments a priori possible? Let us consider this question -for a moment in respect of its freedom from presuppositions. Kant -asks the question precisely because he believes that we can attain -unconditionally certain knowledge only if we are able to prove -the validity of synthetic judgments a priori. He says: "Should this -question be answered in a satisfactory way, we shall at the same time -learn what part reason plays in the foundation and completion of those -sciences which contain a theoretical a priori knowledge of objects;" -[17] and, further, "Metaphysics stands and falls with the solution of -this problem, on which, therefore, the very existence of Metaphysics -absolutely depends." [18] - -Are there any presuppositions in this question, as formulated by -Kant? Yes, there are. For the possibility of a system of absolutely -certain knowledge is made dependent on its being built up exclusively -out of judgments which are synthetic and acquired independently of -all experience. "Synthetic" is Kant's term for judgments in which -the concept of the predicate adds to the concept of the subject -something which lies wholly outside the subject, "although it stands -in some connection with the subject," [19] whereas in "analytic" -judgments the predicate affirms only what is already (implicitly) -contained in the subject. This is not the place for considering the -acute objections which Johannes Rehmke [20] brings forward against -this classification of judgments. For our present purpose, it is -enough to understand that we can attain to genuine knowledge only -through judgments which add to one concept another the content of -which was not, for us at least, contained in that of the former. If -we choose to call this class of judgments, with Kant, "synthetic," we -may agree that knowledge in judgment form is obtainable only where the -connection of predicate and subject is of this synthetic sort. But, -the case is very different with the second half of Kant's question, -which demands that these judgments are to be formed a priori, i.e., -independently of all experience. For one thing, it is altogether -possible [21] that such judgments do not occur at all. At the start -of the Theory of Knowledge we must hold entirely open the question, -whether we arrive at any judgments otherwise than by experience, or -only by experience. Indeed, to unprejudiced reflection the alleged -independence of experience seems from the first to be impossible. For, -let the object of our knowledge be what it may--it must, surely, always -present itself to us at some time in an immediate and unique way; in -short, it must become for us an experience. Mathematical judgments, -too, are known by us in no other way than by our experiencing them -in particular concrete cases. Even if, with Otto Liebmann, [22] for -example, we treat them as founded upon a certain organisation of our -consciousness, this empirical character is none the less manifest. We -shall then say that this or that proposition is necessarily valid, -because the denial of its truth would imply the denial of our -consciousness, but the content of a proposition can enter our knowledge -only by its becoming an experience for us in exactly the same way in -which a process in the outer world of nature does so. Let the content -of such a proposition include factors which guarantee its absolute -validity, or let its validity be based on other grounds--in either -case, I can possess myself of it only in one way and in no other: -it must be presented to me in experience. This is the first objection -to Kant's view. - -The other objection lies in this, that we have no right, at the outset -of our epistemological investigations, to affirm that no absolutely -certain knowledge can have its source in experience. Without doubt, -it is easily conceivable that experience itself might contain a -criterion guaranteeing the certainty of all knowledge which has an -empirical source. - -Thus, Kant's formulation of the problem implies two -presuppositions. The first is that we need, over and above experience, -another source of cognitions. The second is that all knowledge from -experience has only conditional validity. Kant entirely fails to -realise that these two propositions are open to doubt, that they stand -in need of critical examination. He takes them over as unquestioned -assumptions from the dogmatic philosophy of his predecessors and makes -them the basis of his own critical inquiries. The dogmatic thinkers -assume the validity of these two propositions and simply apply them in -order to get from each the kind of knowledge which it guarantees. Kant -assumed their validity and only asks, What are the conditions of -their validity? But, what if they are not valid at all? In that case, -the edifice of Kantian doctrine lacks all foundation whatever. - -The whole argumentation of the five sections which precede Kant's -formulation of the problem, amounts to an attempt to prove that the -propositions of Mathematics are synthetic. [23] But, precisely the -two presuppositions which we have pointed out are retained as mere -assumptions in his discussions. In the Introduction to the Second -Edition of the Critique of Pure Reason we read, "experience can tell us -that a thing is so and so, but not that it cannot be otherwise," and, -"experience never bestows on its judgments true or strict universality, -but only the assumed and relative universality of induction." [24] -In Prologomena, [25] we find it said, "First, as regards the sources -of metaphysics, the very concept of Metaphysics implies that they -cannot be empirical. The principles of Metaphysics (where the term -'principles' includes, not merely its fundamental propositions, but -also its fundamental concepts), can never be gained from experience, -for the knowledge of the metaphysician has precisely to be, not -physical, but 'metaphysical,' i.e., lying beyond the reach of -experience." Lastly Kant says in the Critique of Pure Reason: "The -first thing to notice is, that no truly mathematical judgments are -empirical, but always a priori. They carry necessity on their very -face, and therefore cannot be derived from experience. Should anyone -demur to this, I am willing to limit my assertion to the propositions -of Pure Mathematics, which, as everybody will admit, are not empirical -judgments, but perfectly pure a priori knowledge." [26] - -We may open the Critique of Pure Reason wherever we please, we shall -always find that in all its discussions these two dogmatic propositions -are taken for granted. Cohen [27] and Stadler [28] attempt to prove -that Kant has established the a priori character of the propositions -of Mathematics and Pure Natural Science. But all that Kant tries to do -in the Critique may be summed up as follows. The fact that Mathematics -and Pure Natural Science are a priori sciences implies that the "form" -of all experience has its ground in the subject. Hence, all that is -given by experience is the "matter" of sensations. This matter is -synthesised by the forms, inherent in the mind, into the system of -empirical science. It is only as principles of order for the matter -of sense that the formal principles of the a priori theories have -function and significance. They make empirical science possible, but -they cannot transcend it. These formal principles are nothing but the -synthetic judgments a priori, which therefore extend, as conditions -of all possible empirical knowledge, as far as that knowledge but no -further. Thus, the Critique of Pure Reason, so far from proving the -a priori character of Mathematics and Pure Natural Science, does but -delimit the sphere of their applicability on the assumption that their -principles must become known independently of experience. Indeed, -Kant is so far from attempting a proof of the a priori character of -these principles, that he simply excludes that part of Mathematics -(see the quotation above) in which, even according to his view, that -character might be called in question, and confines himself to the part -in which he thinks he can infer the a priori character from the bare -concepts involved. Johannes Volkelt, too, comes to the conclusion that -"Kant starts from the explicit presupposition" that "there actually -does exist knowledge which is universal and necessary." He goes -on to remark, "This presupposition which Kant has never explicitly -questioned, is so profoundly contradictory to the character of a truly -critical Theory of Knowledge, that the question must be seriously put -whether the Critique is to be accepted as critical Theory of Knowledge -at all." Volkelt does, indeed, decide that there are good grounds for -answering this question in the affirmative, but still, as he says, -"this dogmatic assumption does disturb the critical attitude of -Kant's epistemology in the most far-reaching way." [29] In short, -Volkelt, too, finds that the Critique of Pure Reason is not a Theory -of Knowledge free from all assumptions. - -In substantial agreement with our view are also the views of -O. Liebmann, [30] Holder, [31] Windelband, [32] Ueberweg, [33] Eduard -von Hartmann, [34] and Kuno Fischer, [35] all of whom acknowledge -that Kant makes the a priori character of Pure Mathematics and Physics -the basis of his whole argumentation. - -The propositions that we really have knowledge which is independent -of all experience, and that experience can furnish knowledge of -only relative universality, could be accepted by us as valid only -if they were conclusions deduced from other propositions. It would -be absolutely necessary for these propositions to be preceded by an -inquiry into the essential nature of experience, as well as by another -inquiry into the essential nature of knowing. The former might justify -the first, the latter the second, of the above two propositions. - -It would be possible to reply to the objections which we have urged -against the Critique of Pure Reason, as follows. It might be said -that every Theory of Knowledge must first lead the reader to the -place where the starting-point, free from all presuppositions, is to -be found. For, the knowledge which we have at any given moment of our -lives is far removed from this starting-point, so that we must first -be artificially led back to it. Now, it is true that some such mutual -understanding between author and reader concerning the starting-point -of the science is necessary in all Theory of Knowledge. But such an -understanding ought on no account to go beyond showing how far the -alleged starting-point of knowing is truly such. It ought to consist of -purely self-evident, analytic propositions. It ought not to lay down -any positive, substantial affirmations which influence, as in Kant, -the content of the subsequent argumentation. Moreover, it is the duty -of the epistemologist to show that the starting-point which he alleges -is really free from all presuppositions. But all this has nothing to -do with the essential nature of that starting-point. It lies wholly -outside the starting-point and makes no affirmations about it. At the -beginning of mathematical instruction, too, the teacher must exert -himself to convince the pupil of the axiomatic character of certain -principles. But no one will maintain that the content of the axioms is -in any way made dependent on these prior discussions of their axiomatic -character. [36] In exactly the same way, the epistemologist, in his -introductory remarks, ought to show the method by which we can reach -a starting-point free from all presuppositions. But the real content -of the starting-point ought to be independent of the reflections by -which it is discovered. There is, most certainly, a wide difference -between such an introduction to the Theory of Knowledge and Kant's way -of beginning with affirmations of quite definite, dogmatic character. - - - - - - - - -III - -THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE SINCE KANT - - -Kant's mistaken formulation of the problem has had a greater or lesser -influence on all subsequent students of the Theory of Knowledge. For -Kant, the view that all objects which are given to us in experience -are ideas in our minds is a consequence of his theory of the a -priori. For nearly all his successors, it has become the first -principle and starting-point of their epistemological systems. It is -said that the first and most immediate truth is, simply and solely, -the proposition that we know our own ideas. This has come to be -a well-nigh universal conviction among philosophers. G. E. Schulze -maintains in his Ænesidemus, as early as 1792, that all our cognitions -are mere ideas and that we can never transcend our ideas. Schopenhauer -puts forward, with all the philosophical pathos which distinguishes -him, the view that the permanent achievement of Kant's philosophy -is the thesis that "the world is my idea." To Eduard von Hartmann -this thesis is so incontestable, that he addresses his treatise, -Kritische Grundlegung des Transcendentalen Realismus, exclusively -to readers who have achieved critical emancipation from the naïve -identification of the world of perception with the thing-in-itself. He -demands of them that they shall have made clear to themselves the -absolute heterogeneity of the object of perception which through the -act of representation has been given as a subjective and ideal content -of consciousness, and of the thing-in-itself which is independent of -the act of representation and of the form of consciousness and which -exists in its own right. His readers are required to be thoroughly -convinced that the whole of what is immediately given to us consists -of ideas. [37] In his latest work on Theory of Knowledge, Hartmann -does, indeed, attempt to give reasons for this view. What value should -be attached to these reasons by an unprejudiced Theory of Knowledge -will appear in the further course of our discussions. Otto Liebmann -posits as the sacrosanct first principle of the Theory of Knowledge -the proposition, "Consciousness cannot transcend itself." [38] Volkelt -has called the proposition that the first and most immediate truth is -the limitation of all our knowledge, in the first instance, to our own -ideas exclusively, the positivistic principle of knowledge. He regards -only those theories of knowledge as "in the fullest sense critical" -which "place this principle, as the only fixed starting-point of -philosophy, at the head of their discussions and then consistently -think out its consequences." [39] Other philosophers place other -propositions at the head of the Theory of Knowledge, e.g., the -proposition that its real problem concerns the relation between -Thought and Being, and the possibility of a mediation between them; -[40] or that it concerns the way in which Being becomes an object -of Consciousness; [41] and many others. Kirchmann starts from two -epistemological axioms, "Whatever is perceived is," and, "Whatever -is self-contradictory, is not." [42] According to E. L. Fischer, -knowledge is the science of something actual, something real, [43] -and he criticises this dogma as little as does Goering who asserts -similarly, "To know means always to know something which is. This is a -fact which cannot be denied either by scepticism or by Kant's critical -philosophy." [44] These two latter thinkers simply lay down the law: -This is what knowledge is. They do not trouble to ask themselves with -what right they do it. - -But, even if these various propositions were correct, or led to correct -formulations of the problem, it would still be impossible to discuss -them at the outset of the Theory of Knowledge. For, they all belong, as -positive and definite cognitions, within the realm of knowledge. To say -that my knowledge extends, in the first instance, only to my ideas, -is to express in a perfectly definite judgment something which I -know. In this judgment I qualify the world which is given to me by -the predicate "existing in the form of idea." But how am I to know, -prior to all knowledge, that the objects given to me are ideas? - -The best way to convince ourselves of the truth of the assertion -that this proposition has no right to be put at the head of the -Theory of Knowledge, is to retrace the way which the human mind must -follow in order to reach this proposition, which has become almost -an integral part of the whole modern scientific consciousness. The -considerations which have led to it are systematically summarised, -with approximate exhaustiveness, in Part I of Eduard von Hartmann's -treatise, Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie. His statement, there, -may serve as a sort of guiding-thread for us in our task of reviewing -the reasons which may lead to the acceptance of this proposition. - -These reasons are physical, psycho-physical, physiological, and -properly philosophical. - -The Physicist is led by observation of the phenomena which occur -in our environment when, e.g., we experience a sensation of sound, -to the view that there is nothing in these phenomena which in the -very least resembles what we perceive immediately as sound. Outside, -in the space which surrounds us, nothing is to be found except -longitudinal oscillations of bodies and of the air. Thence it is -inferred that what in ordinary life we call "sound" or "tone" is -nothing but the subjective reaction of our organism to these wave-like -oscillations. Similarly, it is inferred that light and colour and -heat are purely subjective. The phenomena of colour-dispersion, of -refraction, of interference, of polarisation, teach us that to the -just-mentioned sensations there correspond in the outer space certain -transverse oscillations which we feel compelled to ascribe, in part -to the bodies, in part to an immeasurably fine, elastic fluid, the -"ether." Further, the Physicist is driven by certain phenomena in the -world of bodies to abandon the belief in the continuity of objects in -space, and to analyse them into systems of exceedingly minute particles -(molecules, atoms), the size of which, relatively to the distances -between them, is immeasurably small. Thence it is inferred that all -action of bodies on each other is across the empty intervening space, -and is thus a genuine actio in distans. The Physicist believes himself -justified in holding that the action of bodies on our senses of touch -and temperature does not take place through direct contact, because -there must always remain a definite, if small, distance between the -body and the spot on the skin which it is said to "touch." Thence it -is said to follow that what we sense as hardness or heat in bodies -is nothing but the reactions of the end-organs of our touch- and -temperature-nerves to the molecular forces of bodies which act upon -them across empty space. - -These considerations from the sphere of Physics are supplemented -by the Psycho-physicists with their doctrine of specific -sense-energies. J. Müller has shown that every sense can be affected -only in its own characteristic way as determined by its organisation, -and that its reaction is always of the same kind whatever may be the -external stimulus. If the optical nerve is stimulated, light-sensations -are experienced by us regardless of whether the stimulus was pressure, -or an electric current, or light. On the other hand, the same external -phenomena produce quite different sensations according as they are -perceived by different senses. From these facts the inference has -been drawn that there occurs only one sort of phenomenon in the -external world, viz., motions, and that the variety of qualities of -the world we perceive is essentially a reaction of our senses to these -motions. According to this view, we do not perceive the external world -as such, but only the subjective sensations which it evokes in us. - -Physiology adds its quota to the physical arguments. Physics deals -with the phenomena which occur outside our organisms and which -correspond to our percepts. Physiology seeks to investigate the -processes which go on in man's own body when a certain sensation is -evoked in him. It teaches us that the epidermis is wholly insensitive -to the stimuli in the external world. Thus, e.g., if external stimuli -are to affect the end-organs of our touch-nerves on the surface of -our bodies, the oscillations which occur outside our bodies have to -be transmitted through the epidermis. In the case of the senses of -hearing and of sight, the external motions have, in addition, to be -modified by a number of structures in the sense-organs, before they -reach the nerves. The nerves have to conduct the effects produced in -the end-organs up to the central organ, and only then can take place -the process by means of which purely mechanical changes in the brain -produce sensations. It is clear that the stimulus which acts upon -the sense-organs is so completely changed by the transformations -which it undergoes, that every trace of resemblance between the -initial impression on the sense-organs and the final sensation in -consciousness must be obliterated. Hartmann sums up the outcome of -these considerations in these words: "This content of consciousness -consists, originally, of sensations which are the reflex responses -of the soul to the molecular motions in the highest cortical centres, -but which have not the faintest resemblance to the molecular motions -by which they are elicited." - -If we think this line of argument through to the end, we must agree -that, assuming it to be correct, there survives in the content -of our consciousness not the least element of what may be called -"external existence." - -To the physical and physiological objections against so-called "Naïve -Realism" Hartmann adds some further objections which he describes -as philosophical in the strict sense. A logical examination of the -physical and physiological objections reveals that, after all, -the desired conclusion can be reached only if we start from the -existence and nexus of external objects, just as these are assumed by -the ordinary naïve consciousness, and then inquire how this external -world can enter the consciousness of beings with organisms such as -ours. We have seen that every trace of such an external world is lost -on the way from the impression on the sense-organ to the appearance -of the sensation in our consciousness, and that in the latter nothing -survives except our ideas. Hence, we have to assume that the picture -of the external world which we actually have, has been built up by -the soul on the basis of the sensations given to it. First, the soul -constructs out of the data of the senses of touch and sight a picture -of the world in space, and then the sensations of the other senses -are fitted into this space-system. When we are compelled to think of -a certain complex of sensations as belonging together, we are led -to the concept of substance and regard substance as the bearer of -sense-qualities. When we observe that some sense-qualities disappear -from a substance and that others appear in their place, we ascribe -this event in the world of phenomena to a change regulated by the law -of causality. Thus, according to this view, our whole world-picture -is composed of subjective sensations which are ordered by the activity -of our own souls. Hartmann says, "What the subject perceives is always -only modifications of its own psychic states and nothing else." [45] - -Now let us ask ourselves, How do we come by such a view? The -bare skeleton of the line of thought which leads to it is as -follows. Supposing an external world exists, we do not perceive -it as such but transform it through our organisation into a world -of ideas. This is a supposition which, when consistently thought -out, destroys itself. But is this reflection capable of supporting -any positive alternative? Are we justified in regarding the world, -which is given to us, as the subjective content of ideas because the -assumptions of the naïve consciousness, logically followed out, lead to -this conclusion? Our purpose is, rather, to exhibit these assumptions -themselves as untenable. Yet, so far we should have found only that -it is possible for a premise to be false and yet for the conclusion -drawn from it to be true. Granted that this may happen, yet we can -never regard the conclusion as proved by means of that premise. - -It is usual to apply the title of "Naïve Realism" to the theory -which accepts as self-evident and indubitable the reality of the -world-picture which is immediately given to us. The opposite theory, -which regards this world as merely the content of our consciousness, is -called "Transcendental Idealism." Hence, we may sum up the outcome of -the above discussion by saying, "Transcendental Idealism demonstrates -its own truth, by employing the premises of the Naïve Realism which it -seeks to refute." Transcendental Idealism is true, if Naïve Realism is -false. But the falsity of the latter is shown only by assuming it to be -true. Once we clearly realise this situation, we have no choice but to -abandon this line of argument and to try another. But are we to trust -to good luck, and experiment about until we hit by accident upon the -right line? This is Eduard von Hartmann's view when he believes himself -to have shown the validity of his own epistemological standpoint, on -the ground that his theory explains the phenomena whereas its rivals -do not. According to his view, the several philosophical systems are -engaged in a sort of struggle for existence in which the fittest is -ultimately accepted as victor. But this method appears to us to be -unsuitable, if only for the reason that there may well be several -hypotheses which explain the phenomena equally satisfactorily. Hence, -we had better keep to the above line of thought for the refutation -of Naïve Realism, and see where precisely its deficiency lies. For, -after all, Naïve Realism is the view from which we all start out. For -this reason alone it is advisable to begin by setting it right. When -we have once understood why it must be defective, we shall be led -upon the right path with far greater certainty than if we proceed -simply at haphazard. - -The subjectivism which we have sketched above is the result of the -elaboration of certain facts by thought. Thus, it takes for granted -that, from given facts as starting-point, we can by consistent -thinking, i.e., by logical combination of certain observations, gain -correct conclusions. But our right thus to employ our thinking remains -unexamined. There, precisely, lies the weakness of this method. Whereas -Naïve Realism starts from the unexamined assumption that the contents -of our perceptual experience have objective reality, the Idealism -just described starts from the no less unexamined conviction that by -the use of thought we can reach conclusions which are scientifically -valid. In contrast to Naïve Realism, we may call this point of view -"Naïve Rationalism." In order to justify this term, it may be well to -insert here a brief comment on the concept of the "Naïve." A. Döring, -in his essay Über den Begriff des Naiven Realismus, [46] attempts a -more precise determination of this concept. He says, "The concept -of the Naïve marks as it were the zero-point on the scale of our -reflection upon our own activity. In content the Naïve may well -coincide with the True, for, although the Naïve is unreflecting and, -therefore, uncritical or a-critical, yet this lack of reflection and -criticism excludes only the objective assurance of truth. It implies -the possibility and the danger of error, but it does not imply the -necessity of error. There are naïve modes of feeling and willing as -there are naïve modes of apprehending and thinking, in the widest sense -of the latter term. Further, there are naïve modes of expressing these -inward states in contrast with their repression or modification through -consideration for others and through reflection. Naïve activity is -not influenced, at least not consciously, by tradition, education, or -imposed rule. It is in all spheres (as its root nativus, brings out), -unconscious, impulsive, instinctive, dæmonic activity." Starting from -this account, we will try to determine the concept of the Naïve still -more precisely. In every activity we may consider two aspects--the -activity itself and our consciousness of its conformity to a law. We -may be wholly absorbed in the former, without caring at all for -the latter. The artist is in this position, who does not know in -reflective form the laws of his creative activity but yet practises -these laws by feeling and sense. We call him "naïve." But there is -a kind of self-observation which inquires into the laws of one's -own activity and which replaces the naïve attitude, just described, -by the consciousness of knowing exactly the scope and justification -of all one does. This we will call "critical." This account seems to -us best to hit off the meaning of this concept which, more or less -clearly understood, has since Kant acquired citizen-rights in the -world of philosophy. Critical reflection is, thus, the opposite of -naïve consciousness. We call an attitude "critical" which makes itself -master of the laws of its own activity in order to know how far it -can rely on them and what are their limits. Theory of Knowledge can -be nothing if not a critical science. Its object is precisely the most -subjective activity of man--knowing. What it aims at exhibiting is the -laws to which knowing conforms. Hence, the naïve attitude is wholly -excluded from this science. Its claim to strength lies precisely -in that it achieves what many minds, interested in practice rather -than in theory, pride themselves on never having attempted, viz., -"thinking about thought." - - - - - - - - -IV - -THE STARTING-POINTS OF THE THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE - - -At the beginning of an epistemological inquiry we must, in accordance -with the conclusions we have reached, put aside everything which we -have come to know. For, knowledge is something which man has produced, -something which he has originated by his activity. If the Theory of -Knowledge is really to extend the light of its explanation over the -whole field of what we know, it must set out from a point which has -remained wholly untouched by cognitive activity--indeed which rather -furnishes the first impulse for this activity. The point at which -we must start lies outside of what we know. It cannot as yet itself -be an item of knowledge. But we must look for it immediately prior -to the act of cognition, so that the very next step which man takes -shall be a cognitive act. The method for determining this absolutely -first starting-point must be such that nothing enters into it which -is already the result of cognitive activity. - -There is nothing but the immediately-given world-picture with which -we can make a start of this sort. This means the picture of the world -which is presented to man before he has in any way transformed it by -cognitive activity, i.e., before he has made the very least judgment -about it or submitted it to the very smallest determination by -thinking. What thus passes initially through our minds and what -our minds pass through--this incoherent picture which is not yet -differentiated into particular elements, in which nothing seems -distinguished from, nothing related to, nothing determined by, anything -else, this is the Immediately-Given. On this level of existence--if the -phrase is permissible--no object, no event, is as yet more important or -more significant than any other. The rudimentary organ of an animal, -which, in the light of the knowledge belonging to a higher level of -existence, is perhaps seen to be without any importance whatever for -the development and life of the animal, comes before us with the same -claim to our attention as the noblest and most necessary part of the -organism. Prior to all cognitive activity nothing in our picture of -the world appears as substance, nothing as quality, nothing as cause -or as effect. The contrasts of matter and spirit, of body and soul, -have not yet arisen. Every other predicate, too, must be kept away -from the world-picture presented at this level. We may think of it -neither as reality nor as appearance, neither as subjective nor as -objective, neither as necessary nor as contingent. We cannot decide -at this stage whether it is "thing-in-itself" or mere "idea." For, we -have seen already that the conclusions of Physics and Physiology, which -lead us to subsume the Given under one or other of the above heads, -must not be made the basis on which to build the Theory of Knowledge. - -Suppose a being with fully-developed human intelligence were to -be suddenly created out of Nothing and confronted with the world, -the first impression made by the world on his senses and his thought -would be pretty much what we have here called the immediately-given -world-picture. Of course, no actual man at any moment of his life has -nothing but this original world-picture before him. In his mental -development there is nowhere a sharp line between pure, passive -reception of the Given from without and the cognitive apprehension of -it by Thought. This fact might suggest critical doubts concerning -our method of determining the starting-point of the Theory of -Knowledge. Thus, e.g., Eduard von Hartmann remarks: "We do not ask -what is the content of consciousness of a child just awakening to -conscious life, nor of an animal on the lowest rung of the ladder of -organisms. For, of these things philosophising man has no experience, -and, if he tries to reconstruct the content of consciousness of beings -on primitive biogenetic or ontogenetic levels, he cannot but base his -conclusions on his own personal experience. Hence, our first task is to -determine what is the content of consciousness which philosophising man -discovers in himself when he begins his philosophical reflection." [47] -But, the objection to this view is that the picture of the world -with which we begin philosophical reflection, is already qualified by -predicates which are the results solely of knowledge. We have no right -to accept these predicates without question. On the contrary, we must -carefully extract them from out of the world-picture, in order that -it may appear in its purity without any admixture due to the process -of cognition. In general, the dividing line between what is given -and what is added by cognition cannot be identified with any single -moment of human development, but must be drawn artificially. But this -can be done at every level of development, provided only we divide -correctly what is presented to us prior to cognition, without any -determination by thinking, from what is made of it by cognition. - -Now, it may be objected that we have already piled up a whole -host of thought-determinations in the very process of extracting -the alleged primitive world-picture out of the complete picture -into which man's cognitive elaboration has transformed it. But, in -defence we must urge that all our conceptual apparatus was employed, -not for the characterisation of the primitive world-picture, nor -for the determination of its qualities, but solely for the guidance -of our analysis, in order to lead it to the point where knowledge -recognises that it began. Hence, there can be no question of the -truth or error, correctness or incorrectness, of the reflections -which, according to our view, precede the moment which brings us -to the starting-point of the Theory of Knowledge. Their purpose is -solely to guide us conveniently to that point. Nobody who is about to -occupy himself with epistemological problems, stands at the same time -at what we have rightly called the starting-point of knowledge, for -his knowledge is already, up to a certain degree, developed. Nothing -but analysis with the help of concepts enables us to eliminate from -our developed knowledge all the gains of cognitive activity and to -determine the starting-point which precedes all such activity. But -the concepts thus employed have no cognitive value. They have the -purely negative task to eliminate out of our field of vision whatever -is the result of cognitive activity and to lead us to the point where -this activity first begins. The present discussions point the way to -those primitive beginnings upon which the cognitive activity sets to -work, but they form no part of such activity. Thus, whatever Theory of -Knowledge has to say in the process of determining the starting-point, -must be judged, not as true or false, but only as fit or unfit for this -purpose. Error is excluded, too, from that starting-point itself. For, -error can begin only with the activity of cognition; prior to this, -it cannot occur. - -This last proposition is compatible only with the kind of Theory of -Knowledge which sets out from our line of thought. For, a theory which -sets out from some object (or subject) with a definite conceptual -determination is liable to error from the very start, viz., in this -very determination. Whether this determination is justified or not, -depends on the laws which the cognitive act establishes. This is -a question to which only the course of the epistemological inquiry -itself can supply the answer. All error is excluded only when I can -say that I have eliminated all conceptual determinations which are -the results of my cognitive activity, and that I retain nothing but -what enters the circle of my experience without any activity on my -part. Where, on principle, I abstain from every positive affirmation, -there I cannot fall into error. - -From the epistemological point of view, error can occur only within -the sphere of cognitive activity. An illusion of the senses is no -error. The fact that the rising moon appears to us bigger than the -moon overhead is not an error, but a phenomenon fully explained by the -laws of nature. An error would result only, if thought, in ordering -the data of perception, were to put a false interpretation on the -"bigger" or "smaller" size of the moon. But such an interpretation -would lie within the sphere of cognitive activity. - -If knowledge is really to be understood in its essential nature, -we must, without doubt, begin our study of it at the point where -it originates, where it starts. Moreover, it is clear that whatever -precedes its starting-point has no legitimate place in any explanatory -Theory of Knowledge, but must simply be taken for granted. It is -the task of science, in its several branches, to study the essential -nature of all that we are here taking for granted. Our aim, here, is -not to acquire specific knowledge of this or that, but to investigate -knowledge as such. We must first understand the act of cognition, -before we can judge what significance to attach to the affirmations -about the content of the world which come to be made in the process -of getting to know that content. - -For this reason, we abstain from every attempt to determine what is -immediately-given, so long as we are ignorant of the relation of our -determinations to what is determined by them. Not even the concept of -the "immediately-given" affirms any positive determination of what -precedes cognition. Its only purpose is to point towards the Given, -to direct our attention upon it. Here, at the starting-point of the -Theory of Knowledge, the term merely expresses, in conceptual form, the -initial relation of the cognitive activity to the world-content. The -choice of this term allows even for the case that the whole -world-content should turn out to be nothing but a figment of our own -"Ego," i.e., that the most extreme subjectivism should be right. For, -of course, subjectivism does not express a fact which is given. It can, -at best, be only the result of theoretical considerations. Its truth, -in other words, needs to be established by the Theory of Knowledge. It -cannot serve as the presupposition of that theory. - -This immediately-given world-content includes everything which can -appear within the horizon of our experience, in the widest sense of -this term, viz., sensations, percepts, intuitions, feelings, volitions, -dreams, fancies, representations, concepts, ideas. - -Illusions, too, and hallucinations stand at this level exactly on -a par with other elements of the world-content. Only theoretical -considerations can teach us in what relations illusions, etc., stand -to other percepts. - -A Theory of Knowledge which starts from the assumption that all the -experiences just enumerated are contents of our consciousness, -finds itself confronted at once by the question: How do we -transcend our consciousness so as to apprehend reality? Where is -the jumping-board which will launch us from the subjective into the -trans-subjective? For us, the situation is quite different. For us, -consciousness and the idea of the "Ego" are, primarily, only items -in the Immediately-Given, and the relation of the latter to the two -former has first to be discovered by knowledge. We do not start from -consciousness in order to determine the nature of knowledge, but, vice -versa, we start from knowledge in order to determine consciousness -and the relation of subject to object. Seeing that, at the outset, -we attach no predicates whatever to the Given, we are bound to ask: -How is it that we are able to determine it at all? How is it possible -to start knowledge anywhere at all? How do we come to designate one -item of the world-content, as, e.g., percept, another as concept, -a third as reality, others as appearance, as cause, as effect? How -do we come to differentiate ourselves from what is "objective," -and to contrast "Ego" and "Non-Ego?" - -We must discover the bridge which leads from the picture of the -world as given to the picture of it which our cognitive activity -unfolds. But the following difficulty confronts us. So long as we do -nothing but passively gaze at the Given, we can nowhere find a point -which knowledge can take hold of and from which it can develop its -interpretations. Somewhere in the Given we must discover the spot -where we can get to work, where something homogeneous to cognition -meets us. If everything were merely given, we should never get beyond -the bare gazing outwards into the external world and a no less bare -gazing inwards into the privacy of our inner world. We should, at most, -be able to describe, but never to understand, the objects outside of -us. Our concepts would stand in a purely external, not in an internal, -relation to that to which they apply. If there is to be knowledge, -everything depends on there being, somewhere within the Given, a field -in which our cognitive activity does not merely presuppose the Given, -but is at work in the very heart of the Given itself. In other words, -the very strictness with which we hold fast the Given, as merely -given, must reveal that not everything is given. Our demand for the -Given turns out to have been one which, in being strictly maintained, -partially cancels itself. We have insisted on the demand, lest we -should arbitrarily fix upon some point as the starting-point of the -Theory of Knowledge, instead of making a genuine effort to discover -it. In our sense of the word "given," everything may be given, even -what in its own innermost nature is not given. That is to say, the -latter presents itself, in that case, to us purely formally as given, -but reveals itself, on closer inspection, for what it really is. - -The whole difficulty in understanding knowledge lies in that we do -not create the world-content out of ourselves. If we did so create -it, there would be no knowledge at all. Only objects which are given -can occasion questions for me. Objects which I create receive their -determinations by my act. Hence, I do not need to ask whether these -determinations are true or false. - -This, then, is the second point in our Theory of Knowledge. It -consists in the postulate that there must, within the sphere of the -Given, be a point at which our activity does not float in a vacuum, -at which the world-content itself enters into our activity. - -We have already determined the starting-point of the Theory of -Knowledge by assigning it a place wholly antecedent to all cognitive -activity, lest we should distort that activity by some prejudice -borrowed from among its own results. Now we determine the first step -in the development of our knowledge in such a way that, once more, -there can be no question of error or incorrectness. For, we affirm no -judgment about anything whatsoever, but merely state the condition -which must be fulfilled if knowledge is to be acquired at all. It -is all-important that we should, with the most complete critical -self-consciousness, keep before our minds the fact that we are -postulating the very character which that part of the world-content -must possess on which our cognitive activity can begin to operate. - -Nothing else is, in fact, possible. As given, the world-content is -wholly without determinations. No part of it can by itself furnish -the impulse for order to begin to be introduced into the chaos. Hence, -cognitive activity must issue its edict and declare what the character -of that part is to be. Such an edict in no way infringes the character -of the Given as such. It introduces no arbitrary affirmation into -science. For, in truth, it affirms nothing. It merely declares that, -if the possibility of knowledge is to be explicable at all, we need -to look for a field like the one above described. If there is such a -field, knowledge can be explained; if not, not. We began our Theory -of Knowledge with the "Given" as a whole; now we limit our requirement -to the singling out of a particular field within the Given. - -Let us come to closer grips with this requirement. Where within -the world-picture do we find something which is not merely given, -but is given only in so far as it is at the same time created by the -cognitive activity? - -We need to be absolutely clear that this creative activity must, in -its turn, be given to us in all its immediacy. No inferences must be -required in order to know that it occurs. Thence it follows, at once, -that sense-data do not meet our requirement. For, the fact that they -do not occur without our activity is known to us, not immediately, -but as an inference from physical and physiological arguments. On the -other hand, we do know immediately that it is only in and through the -cognitive act that concepts and ideas enter into the sphere of the -Immediately-Given. Hence, no one is deceived concerning the character -of concepts and ideas. It is possible to mistake a hallucination for an -object given from without, but no one is ever likely to believe that -his concepts are given without the activity of his own thinking. A -lunatic will regard as real, though they are in fact unreal, only -things and relations which have attached to them the predicate of -"actuality," but he will never say of his concepts and ideas that they -have come into the world without his activity. Everything else in our -world-picture is such that it must be given, if it is to be experienced -by us. Only of our concepts and ideas is the opposite true: they must -be produced by us, if they are to be experienced. They, and only they, -are given in a way which might be called intellectual intuition. Kant -and the modern philosophers who follow him deny altogether that man -possesses this kind of intuition, on the ground that all our thinking -refers solely to objects and is absolutely impotent to produce anything -out of itself, whereas in intellectual intuition form and matter must -be given together. But, is not precisely this actually the case with -pure concepts and ideas? [48] To see this, we must consider them purely -in the form in which, as yet, they are quite free from all empirical -content. In order, e.g., to comprehend the pure concept of causality, -we must go, not to a particular instance of causality nor to the sum -of all instances, but to the pure concept itself. Particular causes -and effects must be discovered by investigation in the world, but -causality as a Form of Thought must be created by ourselves before we -can discover causes in the world. If we hold fast to Kant's thesis -that concepts without percepts are empty, it becomes unintelligible -how the determination of the Given by concepts is to be possible. For, -suppose there are given two items of the world-content, a and b. In -order to find a relation between them, I must be guided in my search -by a rule of determinate content. Such a rule I can only create in the -act of cognition itself. I cannot derive it from the object, because -it is only with the help of the rule that the object is to receive -its determinations. Such a rule, therefore, for the determination of -the real has its being wholly in purely conceptual form. - -Before passing on, we must meet a possible objection. It might seem as -if in our argument we had unconsciously assigned a prominent part to -the idea of the "Ego," or the "personal subject," and as if we employed -this idea in the development of our line of thought, without having -established our right to do so. For example, we have said that "we -produce concepts," or that "we make this or that demand." But these -are mere forms of speech which play no part in our argument. That -the cognitive act is the act of, and originates in, an "Ego," can, -as we have already pointed out, be affirmed only as an inference in -the process of knowledge itself. Strictly, we ought at the outset -to speak only of cognitive activity without so much as mentioning a -cognitive agent. For, all that has been established so far amounts -to no more than this, (1) that something is "given," and (2) that -at a certain point within the "given" there originates the postulate -set forth above; also, that concepts and ideas are the entities which -answer to that postulate. This is not to deny that the point at which -the postulate originates is the "Ego." But, in the first instance, -we are content to establish these two steps in the Theory of Knowledge -in their abstract purity. - - - - - - - - -V - -KNOWLEDGE AND REALITY - - -Concepts and ideas, then, though themselves part of the Given, yet at -the same time take us beyond the Given. Thus, they make it possible -to determine also the nature of the other modes of cognitive activity. - -By means of a postulate, we have selected a special part out of the -given world-picture, because it is the very essence of knowledge to -proceed from a part with just this character. Thus, we have made the -selection solely in order to be able to understand knowledge. But, -we must clearly confess to ourselves that by this selection we have -artificially torn in two the unity of the given world-picture. We -must bear in mind that the part which we have divorced from the Given -still continues, quite apart from our postulate and independently of -it, to stand in a necessary connection with the world as given. This -fact determines the next step forward in the Theory of Knowledge. It -will consist in restoring the unity which we have destroyed in order -to show how knowledge is possible. This restoration will consist -in thinking about the world as given. The act of thinking about the -world actually effects the synthesis of the two parts of the given -world-content--of the Given which we survey up to the horizon of -our experience, and of the part which, in order to be also given, -must be produced by us in the activity of cognition. The cognitive -act is the synthesis of these two factors. In every single cognitive -act the one factor appears as something produced in the act itself -and as added to the other factor which is the pure datum. It is only -at the very start of the Theory of Knowledge that the factor which -otherwise appears as always produced, appears also as given. - -To think about the world is to transmute the given world by means -of concepts and ideas. Thinking, thus, is in very truth the act -which brings about knowledge. Knowledge can arise only if thinking, -out of itself, introduces order into the content of the world as -given. Thinking is itself an activity which produces a content of -its own in the moment of cognition. Hence, the content cognised, in -so far as it has its origin solely in thinking, offers no difficulty -to cognition. We need only observe it, for in its essential nature -it is immediately given to us. The description of thinking is -also the science of thinking. In fact, Logic was never anything -but a description of the forms of thinking, never a demonstrative -science. For, demonstration occurs only when there is a synthesis -of the products of thinking with a content otherwise given. Hence, -Gideon Spicker is quite right when he says in his book, Lessing's -Weltanschauung (p. 5): "We have no means of knowing, either empirically -or logically, whether the results of thinking, as such, are true." We -may add that, since demonstration already presupposes thinking, -thinking itself cannot be demonstrated. We can demonstrate a particular -fact, but we cannot demonstrate the process of demonstrating itself. We -can only describe what a demonstration is. All logical theory is wholly -empirical. Logic is a science which consists only of observation. But -if we want to get to know anything over and above our thinking, we can -do so only with the help of thinking. That is to say, our thinking -must apply itself to something given and transform its chaotic into -a systematic connection with the world-picture. Thinking, then, in -its application to the world as given, is a formative principle. The -process is as follows. First, thinking selects certain details out -of the totality of the Given. For, in the Given, there are strictly -no individual details, but only an undifferentiated continuum. Next, -thinking relates the selected details to each other according to -the forms which it has itself produced. And, lastly, it determines -what follows from this relation. The act of relating two distinct -items of the world-content to each other does not imply that thinking -arbitrarily determines something about them. Thinking waits and sees -what is the spontaneous consequence of the relation established. With -this consequence we have at last some degree of knowledge of the -two selected items of the world-content. Suppose the world-content -reveals nothing of its nature in response to the establishment of -such a relation, then the effort of thinking must miscarry, and a -fresh effort must take its place. All cognitions consist in this, -that two or more items of the Given are brought into relation with -each other by us and that we apprehend what follows from this relation. - -Without doubt, many of our efforts of thinking miscarry, not only -in the sciences, as is amply proved by their history, but also in -ordinary life. But in the simple cases of mistake which are, after all, -the commonest, the correct thought so rapidly replaces the incorrect, -that the latter is never, or rarely, noticed. - -Kant, in his theory of the "synthetic unity of apperception," had an -inkling of this activity of thought in the systematic organisation of -the world-content, as we have here developed it. But his failure to -appreciate clearly the real function of thinking is revealed by the -fact, that he believes himself able to deduce the a priori laws of -Pure Natural Science from the rules according to which this synthetic -activity proceeds. Kant has overlooked that the synthetic activity of -thinking is merely the preparation for the discovery of natural laws -properly so-called. Suppose we select two items, a and b, from the -Given. For knowledge to arise of a nexus according to law between a -and b, the first requirement is that thinking should so relate a and -b, that the relation may appear to us as given. Thus, the content -proper of the law of nature is derived from what is given, and the -sole function of thinking is to establish such relations between the -items of the world-picture that the laws to which they are subject -become manifest. The pure synthetic activity of thinking is not the -source of any objective laws whatever. - -We must inquire what part thinking plays in the formation of our -scientific world-picture as distinct from the merely given one. It -follows from our account that thinking supplies the formal principle -of the conformity of phenomena to law. Suppose, in our example above, -that a is the cause, b the effect. Unless thinking were able to produce -the concept of causality, we should never be able to know that a and b -were causally connected. But, in order that we may know, in the given -case, that a is the cause and b the effect, it is necessary for a and b -to possess the characteristics which we mean when we speak of cause and -effect. A similar analysis applies to the other categories of thought. - -It will be appropriate to notice here in a few words Hume's discussion -of causality. According to Hume, the concepts of cause and effect -have their origin solely in custom. We observe repeatedly that one -event follows another and become accustomed to think of them as -causally connected, so that we expect the second to occur as soon -as we have observed the first. This theory, however, springs from a -totally mistaken view of the causal relation. Suppose for several -days running I observe the same person whenever I step out of the -door of my house, I shall gradually form the habit of expecting the -temporal sequence of the two events. But, it will never occur to me to -think that there is any causal connection between my own appearance -and that of the other person at the same spot. I shall call in aid -essentially other items of the world-content in order to explain the -coincidence of these events. In short, we determine the causal nexus -of two events, not according to their temporal sequence, but according -to the essential character of the items of the world-content which -we call, respectively, cause and effect. - -From this purely formal activity of our thinking in the construction -of the scientific picture of the world, it follows that the content of -every cognition cannot be fixed a priori in advance of observation -(in which thinking comes to grips with the Given), but must be -derived completely and exhaustively from observation. In this sense, -all our cognitions are empirical. Nor is it possible to see how it -could be otherwise. For, Kant's judgments a priori are at bottom, -not cognitions, but postulates. On Kant's principles, all we can -ever say is only this, that if a thing is to become the object -of possible experience, it must conform to these laws. They are, -therefore, rules which the subject prescribes to all objects. But, -we should rather expect cognitions of the Given to have their source, -not in the constitution of the subject, but in that of the object. - -Thinking makes no a priori affirmations about the Given. But it creates -the forms, on the basis of which the conformity of phenomena to law -becomes manifest a posteriori. - -From our point of view, it is impossible to determine anything a priori -about the degree of certainty belonging to a judgment which embodies -knowledge thus gained. For, certainty, too, derives from nothing -other than the Given. Perhaps it will be objected that observation -never establishes anything except that a certain nexus of phenomena -actually occurs, but not that it must occur, and will always occur, -in like conditions. But, this suggestion, too, is in error. For any -nexus which I apprehend between elements in the world-picture is, -on our principles, nothing but what is grounded in these elements -themselves. It is not imported into these elements by thinking, but -belongs to them essentially, and must, therefore, necessarily exist -whenever they themselves exist. - -Only a view which regards all scientific research as nothing but the -endeavour to correlate the facts of experience by means of principles -which are subjective and external to the facts, can hold that the -nexus of a and b may to-day obey one law and to-morrow another -(J. S. Mill). On the other hand, if we see clearly that the laws of -nature have their source in the Given, and that, therefore, the nexus -of phenomena essentially depends upon, and is determined by, them, -we shall never think of talking of a "merely relative universality" -of the laws which are derived from observation. This is, of course, -not to assert that any given law which we have once accepted as -correct, must be absolutely valid. But when, later, a negative -instance overthrows a law, the reason is, not that the law from the -first could be inferred only with relative universality, but that it -had not at first been inferred correctly. A genuine law of nature is -nothing but the formulation of a nexus in the given world-picture, -and it exists as little without the facts which it determines, as -these exist without it. - -Above, we have laid down that it is the essence of the cognitive -activity to transmute, by thinking, the given world-picture by -means of concepts and ideas. What follows from this fact? If the -Immediately-Given were a totality complete in itself, the work -which thinking does upon it in cognition would be both impossible -and unnecessary. We should simply accept the Given, as it is, and be -satisfied with it as such. Cognitive activity is possible only because -in the Given something lies hidden which does not yet reveal itself -so long as we gaze at the Given in its immediacy, but which becomes -manifest with the aid of the order which thinking introduces. Prior -to the work of thinking, the Given does not possess the fulness of -its own complete nature. - -This point becomes still more obvious by considering in greater -detail the two factors involved in the act of cognition. The first -factor is the Given. "Being given" is not a quality of the Given, -but merely a term expressing its relation to the second factor in the -act of cognition. This second factor, viz., the conceptual content -of the Given, is found by our thought in the act of cognition to -be necessarily connected with the Given. Two questions arise: (1) -Where are the Given and the Concept differentiated? (2) Where are they -united? The answer to these two questions is to be found, beyond any -doubt, in the preceding discussions. They are differentiated solely in -the act of cognition. They are united in the Given. Thence it follows -necessarily that the conceptual content is but a part of the Given, -and that the act of cognition consists in re-uniting with each other -the two parts of the world-picture which are, at first, given to it in -separation. The given world-picture thus attains its completion only -through that mediate kind of givenness which thinking brings about. In -its original immediacy the world-picture is altogether incomplete. - -If the conceptual content were from the first united with the Given -in our world-picture, there would be no cognition. For, no need could -ever arise of transcending the Given. So, again, if by thinking and -in thinking we could create the whole world-content, once more there -would be no cognition. For, what we create ourselves we do not need to -cognise. Hence, cognition exists because the world-content is given to -us originally in a form which is incomplete, which does not contain it -as a whole, but which, over and above what it presents immediately, -owns another, no less essential, aspect. This second aspect of -the world-content--an aspect not originally given--is revealed by -cognition. Pure thinking presents in the abstract, not empty forms, -but a sum of determinations (categories) which serve as forms for the -rest of the world-content. The world-content can be called REALITY -only in the form which it acquires through cognition and in which -both aspects of it are united. - - - - - - - - -VI - -THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT PRESUPPOSITIONS VERSUS FICHTE'S THEORY -OF SCIENCE - - -So far, we have determined the idea of knowledge. This idea is -given immediately in the human consciousness whenever it functions -cognitively. To the "Ego," as the centre [49] of consciousness, are -given immediately external and internal perceptions, as well as its -own existence. The Ego feels impelled to find more in the Given than -it immediately contains. Over against the given world, a second world, -the world of thinking, unfolds itself for the Ego and the Ego unites -these two by realising, of its own free will, the idea of knowledge -which we have determined. This accounts for the fundamental difference -between the way in which in the objects of human consciousness itself -the concept and the Immediately-Given unite to form Reality in its -wholeness, and the way in which their union obtains in the rest of -the world-content. For every other part of the world-content we must -assume that the union of the two factors is original and necessary from -the first, and that it is only for cognition, when cognition begins, -that an artificial separation has supervened, but that cognition -in the end undoes the separation in keeping with the original and -essential unity of the object-world. For consciousness the case is -quite otherwise. Here the union exists only when it is achieved by -the living activity of consciousness itself. With every other kind -of object, the separation of the two factors is significant, not for -the object, but only for knowledge. Their union is here original, -their separation derivative. Cognition effects a separation only -because it must first separate before it can achieve union by its -own methods. But, for consciousness, the Concept and the Given -are originally separate. Union is here derivative, and that is why -cognition has the character which we have described. Just because in -consciousness Idea and Given appear in separation, does the whole of -reality split itself for consciousness into these two factors. And, -again, just because consciousness can bring about the union of the two -factors only by its own activity, can it reach full reality only by -performing the act of cognition. The remaining categories (ideas) would -be necessarily united with the corresponding lands of the Given, even -if they were not taken up into cognition. But the idea of cognition -can be united with the Given which corresponds to it, only by the -activity of consciousness. Real consciousness exists only in realising -itself. With these remarks we believe ourselves to be sufficiently -equipped for laying bare the root-error of Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre -and, at the same time, for supplying the key to the understanding -of it. Fichte is among all Kant's successors the one who has felt -most vividly that nothing but a theory of consciousness can supply -the foundation for all the sciences. But he never clearly understood -why this is so. He felt that the act which we have called the second -step in the Theory of Knowledge and which we have formulated as a -postulate, must really be performed by the "Ego." This may be seen, -e.g., from the following passage. "The Theory of Science, then, arises, -as itself a systematic discipline, just as do all possible sciences -in so far as they are systematic, through a certain act of freedom, -the determinate function of which is, more particularly, to make us -conscious of the characteristic activity of intelligence as such. The -result of this free act is that the necessary activity of intelligence, -which in itself already is form, is further taken up as matter into a -fresh form of cognition or consciousness." [50] What does Fichte here -mean by the activity of the "intelligence," when we translate what he -has obscurely felt into clear concepts? Nothing but the realisation -of the idea of knowledge, taking place in consciousness. Had this been -perfectly clear to Fichte, he ought to have expressed his view simply -by saying, "It is the task of the Theory of Science to bring cognition, -in so far as it is still an unreflective activity of the 'Ego,' into -reflective consciousness; it has to show that the realisation of the -idea of cognition in actual fact is a necessary activity of the 'Ego.'" - -Fichte tries to determine the activity of the "Ego." He declares -"that the being, the essence of which consists solely in this that -it posits itself as existing, is the Ego as absolute subject." [51] -This positing of the Ego is for Fichte the original, unconditioned -act "which lies at the basis of all the rest of consciousness." [52] -It follows that the Ego, in Fichte's sense, can likewise begin -all its activity only through an absolute fiat of the will. But, -it is impossible for Fichte to supply any sort of content for this -activity which his "Ego" absolutely posits. For, Fichte can name -nothing upon which this activity might direct itself, or by which it -might be determined. His Ego is supposed to perform an act. Yes, but -what is it to do? Fichte failed to define the concept of cognition -which the Ego is to realise, and, in consequence, he struggled -in vain to find any way of advancing from his absolute act to the -detailed determinations of the Ego. Nay, in the end he declares that -the inquiry into the manner of this advance lies outside the scope -of his theory. In his deduction of the idea of cognition he starts -neither from an absolute act of the Ego, nor from one of the Non-Ego, -but from a state of being determined which is, at the same time, an act -of determining. His reason for this is that nothing else either is, -or can be, immediately contained in consciousness. His theory leaves -it wholly vague what determines, in turn, this determination. And it -is this vagueness which drives us on beyond Fichte's theory into the -practical part of the Wissenschaftslehre. [53] But, by this turn Fichte -destroys all knowledge whatsoever. For, the practical activity of the -Ego belongs to quite a different sphere. The postulate which we have -put forward above can, indeed, be realised--so much is clear--only by -a free act of the Ego. But, if this act is to be a cognitive act, the -all-important point is that its voluntary decision should be to realise -the idea of cognition. It is, no doubt, true that the Ego by its own -free will can do many other things as well. But, what matters for the -epistemological foundation of the sciences is not a definition of what -it is for the Ego to be free, but of what it is to know. Fichte has -allowed himself to be too much influenced by his subjective tendency to -present the freedom of human personality in the brightest light. Harms, -in his address on The Philosophy of Fichte (p. 15), rightly remarks, -"His world-view is predominantly and exclusively ethical, and the -same character is exhibited by his Theory of Knowledge." Knowledge -would have absolutely nothing to do, if all spheres of reality were -given in their totality. But, seeing that the Ego, so long as it has -not been, by thinking, inserted into its place in the systematic -whole of the world-picture, exists merely as an immediately-given -something, it is not enough merely to point out what it does. Fichte, -however, believes that all we need to do concerning the Ego is to seek -and find it. "We have to seek and find the absolutely first, wholly -unconditioned principle of all human knowledge. Being absolutely first, -this principle admits neither of proof nor of determination." [54] -We have seen that proof and determination are out of place solely as -applied to the content of Pure Logic. But the Ego is a part of reality, -and this makes it necessary to establish that this or that category is -actually to be found in the Given. Fichte has failed to do this. And -this is the reason why he has given such a mistaken form to his Theory -of Science. Zeller remarks [55] that the logical formulæ by means of -which Fichte seeks to reach the concept of the Ego, do but ill disguise -his predetermined purpose at any price to reach this starting-point for -his theory. This comment applies to the first form (1794) which Fichte -gave to his Wissenschaftslehre. Taking it, then, as established that -Fichte, in keeping with the whole trend of his philosophical thinking, -could not, in fact, rest content with any other starting-point for -knowledge than an absolute and arbitrary act, we have the choice -between only two ways of making this start intelligible. The one -way was to seize upon some one among the empirical activities of -consciousness and to strip off, one by one, all the characteristics -of it which do not follow originally from its essential nature, until -the pure concept of the Ego had been crystallised out. The other way -was to begin, straightway, with the original activity of the Ego, -and to exhibit its nature by introspection and reflection. Fichte -followed the first way at the outset of his philosophical thinking, -but in the course of it he gradually switched over to the other. - -Basing himself upon Kant's "synthesis of transcendental apperception," -Fichte concluded that the whole activity of the Ego in the synthesis -of the matter of experience proceeds according to the forms of the -judgment. To judge is to connect a predicate with a subject--an act of -which the purely formal expression is a = a. This proposition would be -impossible if the x which connects predicate and subject, did not rest -upon a power to affirm unconditionally. For, the proposition does not -mean, "a exists"; it means, "if a exists, then there exists a." Thus, -a is most certainly not affirmed absolutely. Hence, if there is to be -an absolute, unconditionally valid affirmation, there is no alternative -but to declare the act of affirming itself to be absolute. Whereas a -is conditioned, the affirming of a is unconditioned. This affirming -is the act of the Ego which, thus, possesses the power to affirm -absolutely and without conditions. In the proposition, a = a, the one a -is affirmed only on condition of the other being presupposed. Moreover, -the affirming is an act of the Ego. "If a is affirmed in the Ego, it -is affirmed." [56] This connection is possible only on condition that -there is in the Ego something always self-identical, which effects -the transition from the one a to the other. The above-mentioned x -is this self-identical aspect of the Ego. The Ego which affirms the -one a is the same Ego as that which affirms the other a. This is to -say Ego = Ego. But this proposition, expressed in judgment-form, "If -the Ego is, it is," is meaningless. For, the Ego is not affirmed on -condition of another Ego having been presupposed, but it presupposes -itself. In short, the Ego is absolute and unconditioned. The -hypothetical judgment-form which is the form of all judgments, -so long as the absolute Ego is not presupposed, changes for the -Ego into the form of the categorical affirmation of existence, "I -am unconditionally." Fichte has another way of putting this: "the -Ego originally affirms its own existence." [57] Clearly, this whole -deduction is nothing but a sort of elementary school-drill by means of -which Fichte tries to lead his readers to the point at which they will -perceive for themselves the unconditioned activity of the Ego. His aim -is to put clearly before their eyes that fundamental activity of the -Ego in the absence of which there is no such thing as an Ego at all. - -Let us now look back, once more, over Fichte's line of thought. On -closer inspection, it becomes obvious that it contains a leap--a leap, -moreover, which throws grave doubts upon the correctness of his theory -of the original act of the Ego. What precisely is it that is absolute -in the affirmation of the Ego? Take the judgment, "If a exists, -then there exists a." The a is affirmed by the Ego. So far there is -no room for doubt. But, though the act is unconditioned, yet the Ego -must affirm something in particular. It cannot affirm an "activity in -general and as such"; it can affirm only a particular, determinate -activity. In short, the affirmation must have a content. But, -it cannot derive this content from itself, for else we should get -nothing but affirmations of acts of affirmation in infinitum. Hence, -there must be something which is realised by this affirming, by -this absolute activity of the Ego. If the Ego does not seize upon -something given in order to affirm it, it can do nothing at all, and, -consequently, it cannot affirm either. This is proved, too, by Fichte's -proposition, "the Ego affirms its own existence." "Existence," here, -is a category. Thus, we are back at our own position: the activity of -the Ego consists in that it affirms, of its own free will, the concepts -and ideas inherent in the Given. If Fichte had not unconsciously -been determined to exhibit the Ego as "existing," he would have -got nowhere at all. If, instead, he had built up the concept of -cognition, he would have reached the true starting-point of the Theory -of Knowledge, viz., "The Ego affirms the act of cognition." Because -Fichte failed to make clear to himself what determines the activity -of the Ego, he fixed simply upon the affirmation of its own existence -as the character of that activity. But, this is at once to restrict -the absolute activity of the Ego. For, if nothing is unconditioned -except the Ego's affirmation of its own existence, then every other -activity of the Ego is conditioned. Moreover, the way is cut off -for passing from the unconditioned to the conditioned. If the Ego is -unconditioned only in the affirmation of its own existence, then at -once there is cut off all possibility of affirming by an original act -anything other than its own existence. Hence, the necessity arises to -assign a ground for all the other activities of the Ego. But Fichte, -as we have seen above, sought for such a ground in vain. - -This is the reason why he shifted to the second of the two ways, -indicated above, for the deduction of the Ego. Already in 1797, -in his Erste Einleitung in die Wissenschaftslehre, he recommends -self-observation as the right method for studying the Ego in its -true, original character. "Observe and watch thyself, turn thy -eye away from all that surrounds thee and look into thyself--this -is the first demand which philosophy makes upon its disciple. The -topic of our discourse, is, not anything outside thyself, but thyself -alone." [58] This introduction to the Theory of Science is, in truth, -in one way much superior to the other. For, self-observation does -not make us acquainted with the activity of the Ego one-sidedly in a -fixed direction. It exhibits that activity, not merely as affirming -its own existence, but as striving, in its many-sided development, to -comprehend by thinking the world-content which is immediately-given. To -self-observation, the Ego reveals itself as engaged in building up -its world-picture by the synthesis of the Given with concepts. But, -anyone who has not accompanied us in our line of thought above, and -who, consequently, does not know that the Ego can grasp the whole -content of reality only on condition of applying its Thought-Forms to -the Given, is liable to regard cognition as a mere process of spinning -the world out of the Ego itself. Hence, for Fichte the world-picture -tends increasingly to become a construction of the Ego. He emphasises -more and more that the main point in the Wissenschaftslehre is to -awaken the sense which is able to watch the Ego in this constructing -of its world. He who is able thus to watch stands, for Fichte, on a -higher level of knowledge than he who has eyes only for the finished -construct, the ready-made world. If we fix our eyes only on the world -of objects, we fail to perceive that, but for the creative activity -of the Ego, that world would not exist. If, on the other hand, -we watch the Ego in its constructive activity, we understand the -ground of the finished world-picture. We know how it has come to be -what it is. We understand it as the conclusion for which we have the -premises. The ordinary consciousness sees only what has been affirmed, -what has been determined thus or thus. It lacks the insight into the -premises, into the grounds why an affirmation is just as it is and not -otherwise. To mediate the knowledge of these premises is, according -to Fichte, the task of a wholly new sense. This is expressed most -clearly in the Einleitungsvorlesungen in die Wissenschaftslehre. [59] -"My theory presupposes a wholly novel inward sense-organ, by means -of which a new world is given which does not exist for the ordinary -man at all." Or, again, "The world of this novel sense, and thereby -this sense itself, are hereby for the present clearly determined: it -is the world in which we see the premises on which is grounded the -judgment, 'Something exists'; it is the ground of existence which, -just because it is the ground of existence, cannot, in its turn, -be said to be or to be an existence." [60] - -But, here, too, Fichte lacks clear insight into the activity of -the Ego. He has never worked his way through to it. That is why his -Wissenschaftslehre could not become what else, from its whole design, -it ought to have become, viz., a Theory of Knowledge as the fundamental -discipline of philosophy. For, after it had once been recognised that -the activity of the Ego must be affirmed by the Ego itself, it was very -easy to think that the activity receives its determination also from -the Ego. But how else can this happen except we assign a content to -the purely formal activity of the Ego? If the Ego is really to import -a content into its activity which, else, is wholly undetermined, then -the nature of that content must also be determined. For, failing this, -it could at best be realised only by some "thing-in-itself" in the Ego, -of which the Ego would be the instrument, but not by the Ego itself. If -Fichte had attempted to furnish this determination, he would have -been led to the concept of cognition which it is the task of the Ego -to realise. Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre proves that even the acutest -thinker fails to make fruitful contributions to any philosophical -discussion, unless he lays hold of the correct Thought-Form (category, -idea) which, supplemented by the Given, yields reality. Such a thinker -is like a man who fails to hear the most glorious melodies which are -being played for him, because he has no ear for tunes. If we are to -determine the nature of consciousness, as given, we must be able to -rise to, and make our own, the "idea of consciousness." - -At one point Fichte is actually quite close to the true view. He -declares, in the Einleitungen zur Wissenschaftslehre (1797), that -there are two theoretical systems, viz., Dogmatism, for which the Ego -is determined by the objects, and Idealism, for which the objects -are determined by the Ego. Both are, according to him, established -as possible theories of the world; both can be developed into -self-consistent systems. But, if we throw in our lot with Dogmatism, -we must abandon the independence of the Ego and make it dependent on -the "thing-in-itself." If we do not want to do this, we must adopt -Idealism. The philosopher's choice between these two systems is left -by Fichte wholly to the preference of the Ego. But he adds that if -the Ego desires to preserve its independence, it will give up the -belief in external things and surrender itself to Idealism. - -But, what Fichte forgot was the consideration that the Ego cannot make -any genuine, well-grounded decision or choice, unless something is -presupposed which helps the Ego to choose. All the Ego's attempts at -determination remain empty and without content, if the Ego does not -find something wholly determinate and full of content, which enables -it to determine the Given, and thereby also to choose between Idealism -and Dogmatism. This "something wholly determinate and full of content" -is, precisely, the world of Thought. And the determination of the -Given by thinking is, precisely, what we call cognition. We may take -Fichte where we please--everywhere we find that his line of thought -at once gets meaning and substance, as soon as we conceive his grey, -empty activity of the Ego to be filled and regulated by what we have -called "the process of cognition." - -The fact that the Ego is free to enter into activity out of itself, -makes it possible for it, by free self-determination, to realise the -category of cognition, whereas in the rest of the world all categories -are connected by objective necessity with the Given which corresponds -to them. The investigation of the nature of free self-determination -will be the task of Ethics and Metaphysics, based on our Theory of -Knowledge. These disciplines, too, will have to debate the question -whether the Ego is able to realise other ideas, besides the idea of -cognition. But, that the realisation of the idea of cognition issues -from a free act has been made sufficiently clear in the course of -our discussions above. For, the synthesis, effected by the Ego, -of the Immediately-Given and of the Form of Thought appropriate to -it, which two factors of reality remain otherwise always divorced -from each other in consciousness, can be brought about only by -an act of freedom. Moreover, our arguments throw, in another way, -quite a fresh light on Critical Idealism. To any close student of -Fichte's system it will appear as if Fichte cared for nothing so -much as for the defence of the proposition, that nothing can enter -the Ego from without, that nothing can appear in the Ego which was -not the Ego's own original creation. Now, it is beyond all dispute -that no type of Idealism will ever be able to derive from within -the Ego that form of the world-content which we have called "the -Immediately-Given." For, this form can only be given; it can never -be constructed by thinking. In proof of this, it is enough to reflect -that, even if the whole series of colours were given to us except one, -we should not be able to fill in that one out of the bare Ego. We -can form an image of the most remote countries, though we have never -seen them, provided we have once personally experienced, as given, -the details which go to form the image. We then build up the total -picture, according to the instructions supplied to us, out of the -particular facts which we have ourselves experienced. But we shall -strive in vain to invent out of ourselves even a single perceptual -element which has never appeared within the sphere of what has been -given to us. It is one thing to be merely acquainted with the world; -it is another to have knowledge of its essential nature. This nature, -for all that it is closely identified with the world-content, does -not become clear to us unless we build up reality ourselves out of -the Given and the Forms of Thought. The real "what" of the Given -comes to be affirmed for the Ego only through the Ego itself. The Ego -would have no occasion to affirm the nature of the Given for itself, -if it did not find itself confronted at the outset by the Given in -wholly indeterminate form. Thus, the essential nature of the world -is affirmed, not apart from, but through, the Ego. - -The true form of reality is not the first form in which it presents -itself to the Ego, but the last form which it receives through -the activity of the Ego. That first form is, in fact, without any -importance for the objective world and counts only as the basis for -the process of cognition. Hence, it is not the form given to the world -by theory which is subjective, but rather the form in which the world -is originally given to the Ego. If, following Volkelt and others, -we call the given world "experience," our view amounts to saying: -The world-picture presents itself, owing to the constitution of our -consciousness, in subjective form as experience, but science completes -it and makes its true nature manifest. - -Our Theory of Knowledge supplies the basis for an Idealism which, -in the true sense of the word, understands itself. It supplies -good grounds for the conviction that thinking brings home to us the -essential nature of the world. Nothing but thinking can exhibit the -relations of the parts of the world-content, be it the relation of -the heat of the sun to the stone which it warms, or the relation of -the Ego to the external world. Thinking alone has the function of -determining all things in their relations to each other. - -The objection might still be urged by the followers of Kant, that the -determination, above-described, of the Given holds, after all, only -for the Ego. Our reply must be, consistently with our principles, -that the distinction between Ego and Outer World, too, holds only -within the Given, and that, therefore, it is irrelevant to insist on -the phrase, "for the Ego," in the face of the activity of thinking -which unites all opposites. The Ego, as divorced from the outer world, -disappears completely in the process of thinking out the nature of the -world. Hence it becomes meaningless still to talk of determinations -which hold only for the Ego. - - - - - - - - -VII - -CONCLUDING REMARKS: EPISTEMOLOGICAL - - -We have laid the foundations of the Theory of Knowledge as the -science of the significance of all human knowledge. It alone clears -up for us the relation of the contents of the separate sciences to -the world. It enables us, with the help of the sciences, to attain -to a philosophical world-view. Positive knowledge is acquired by us -through particular cognitions; what the value of our knowledge is, -considered as knowledge of reality, we learn through the Theory -of Knowledge. By holding fast strictly to this principle, and by -employing no particular cognitions in our argumentation, we have -transcended all one-sided world-views. One-sidedness, as a rule, -results from the fact that the inquiry, instead of concentrating on -the process of cognition itself, busies itself about some object of -that process. If our arguments are sound, Dogmatism must abandon its -"thing-in-itself" as fundamental principle, and Subjective Idealism its -"Ego," for both these owe their determinate natures in their relation -to each other first to thinking. Scepticism must give up its doubts -whether the world can be known, for there is no room for doubt with -reference to the "Given," because it is as yet untouched by any of -the predicates which cognition confers on it. On the other hand, if -Scepticism were to assert that thinking can never apprehend things as -they are, its assertion, being itself possible only through thinking, -would be self-contradictory. For, to justify doubt by thinking is to -admit by implication that thinking can produce grounds sufficient to -establish certainty. Lastly, our theory of knowledge transcends both -one-sided Empiricism and one-sided Rationalism in uniting both at a -higher level. Thus it does justice to both. It justifies Empiricism -by showing that all positive knowledge about the Given is obtainable -only through direct contact with the Given. And Rationalism, too, -receives its due in our argument, seeing that we hold thinking to be -the necessary and exclusive instrument of knowledge. - -The world-view which has the closest affinity to ours, as we -have here built it up on epistemological foundations, is that of -A. E. Biedermann. [61] But Biedermann requires for the justification -of his point of view dogmatic theses which are quite out of place -in Theory of Knowledge. Thus, e.g., he works with the concepts of -Being, Substance, Space, Time, etc., without having first analysed the -cognitive process by itself. Instead of establishing the fact that the -cognitive process consists, to begin with, only of the two elements, -the Given and Thought, he talks of the Kinds of Being of the real. For -example, in Section 15, he says: "Every content of consciousness -includes within itself two fundamental facts--it presents to us, as -given, two kinds of Being which we contrast with each other as sensuous -and spiritual, thing-like and idea-like, Being." And in Section 19: -"Whatever has a spatio-temporal existence, exists materially; that -which is the ground of all existence and the subject of life has an -idea-like existence, is real as having an ideal Being." This sort of -argument belongs, not to the Theory of Knowledge, but to Metaphysics, -which latter presupposes Theory of Knowledge as its foundation. We -must admit that Biedermann's doctrine has many points of similarity -with ours; but our method has not a single point of contact with -his. Hence, we have had no occasion to compare our position directly -with his. Biedermann's aim is to gain an epistemological standpoint -with the help of a few metaphysical axioms. Our aim is to reach, -through an analysis of the process of cognition, a theory of reality. - -And we believe that we have succeeded in showing, that all the disputes -between philosophical systems result from the fact that their authors -have sought to attain knowledge about some object or other (Thing, -Self, Consciousness, etc.), without having first given close study -to that which alone can throw light on whatever else we know, viz., -the nature of knowledge itself. - - - - - - - - -VIII - -CONCLUDING REMARKS: PRACTICAL - - -The aim of the preceding discussions has been to throw light on the -relation of our personality, as knower, to the objective world. What -does it signify for us to possess knowledge and science? This was -the question to which we sought the answer. - -We have seen that it is just in our knowing that the innermost kernel -of the world manifestly reveals itself. The harmony, subject to law, -which reigns throughout the whole world, reveals itself precisely in -human cognition. - -It is, therefore, part of the destiny of man to elevate the fundamental -laws of the world, which do indeed regulate the whole of existence -but which would never become existent in themselves, into the realm -of realities which appear. This precisely is the essential nature -of knowledge that in it the world-ground is made manifest which in -the object-world can never be discovered. Knowing is--metaphorically -speaking--a continual merging of one's life into the world-ground. - -Such a view is bound to throw light also on our practical attitude -towards life. - -Our conduct is, in its whole character, determined by our moral -ideals. These are the ideas we have of our tasks in life, or, in other -words, of the ends which we set ourselves to achieve by our action. - -Our conduct is a part of the total world-process. Consequently, it, -too, is subject to the universal laws which regulate this process. - -Now, every event in the universe has two sides which must be -distinguished: its external sequence in time and space, and its -internal conformity to law. - -The apprehension of this conformity of human conduct to law is but -a special case of knowledge. Hence, the conclusions at which we have -arrived concerning the nature of knowledge must apply to this sort of -knowledge, too. To apprehend oneself as a person who acts is to possess -the relevant laws of conduct, i.e., the moral concepts and ideals, in -the form of knowledge. It is this knowledge of the conformity of our -conduct to law which makes our conduct truly ours. For, in that case, -the conformity is given, not as external to the object in which the -action appears, but as the very substance of the object engaged in -living activity. The "object," here, is our own Ego. If the Ego has -with its knowledge really penetrated the essential nature of conduct, -then it feels that it is thereby master of its conduct. Short of this, -the laws of conduct confront us as something external. They master -us. What we achieve, we achieve under the compulsion which they wield -over us. But this compulsion ceases, as soon as their alien character -has been transformed into the Ego's very own activity. Thereafter, the -law no longer rules over us, but rules in us over the actions which -issue from our Ego. To perform an act in obedience to a law which is -external to the agent is to be unfree. To perform it in obedience to -the agent's own law is to be free. To gain knowledge of the laws of -one's own conduct is to become conscious of one's freedom. The process -of cognition is, thus, according to our arguments, the process of -the development of freedom. - -Not all human conduct has this character. There are many cases in -which we do not know the laws of our conduct. This part of our conduct -is the unfree part of our activity. Over against it stands the part -the laws of which we make completely our own. This is the realm of -freedom. It is only in so far as our life falls into this realm that -it can be called moral. To transform the actions which are unfree -into actions which are free--this is the task of self-development for -every individual, this is likewise the task of the whole human race. - -Thus, the most important problem for all human thinking is to conceive -man as a personality grounded upon itself and free. - - - - - - - - -APPENDICES - - -APPENDIX I - -ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION OF "THE PHILOSOPHY OF FREEDOM," 1918. - - -Various criticisms on the part of philosophers with which this book -met immediately upon its publication, induce me to add to this Revised -Edition the following brief statement. - -I can well understand that there are readers who are interested -in the rest of the book, but who will look upon what follows as a -tissue of abstract concepts which to them is irrelevant and makes -no appeal. They may, if they choose, leave this brief statement -unread. But in philosophy problems present themselves which have their -origin rather in certain prejudices on the thinker's part than in -the natural progression of normal human thinking. With the main body -of this book it seems to me to be the duty of every one to concern -himself, who is striving for clearness about the essential nature of -man and his relation to the world. What follows is rather a problem -the discussion of which certain philosophers demand as necessary to a -treatment of the topics of this book, because these philosophers, by -their whole way of thinking, have created certain difficulties which -do not otherwise occur. If I were to pass by these problems entirely, -certain people would be quick to accuse me of dilettantism, etc. The -impression would thus be created that the author of the views set -down in this book has not thought out his position with regard to -these problems because he has not discussed them in his book. - -The problem to which I refer is this: there are thinkers who find a -particular difficulty in understanding how another mind can act on -one's own. They say: the world of my consciousness is a closed circle -within me; so is the world of another's consciousness within him. I -cannot look into the world of another's mind. How, then, do I know -that he and I are in a common world? The theory according to which -we can from the conscious world infer an unconscious world which -never can enter consciousness, attempts to solve this difficulty as -follows. The world, it says, which I have in my consciousness is the -representation in me of a real world to which my consciousness has no -access. In this transcendent world exist the unknown agents which cause -the world in my consciousness. In it, too, exists my own real self, -of which likewise I have only a representation in my consciousness. In -it, lastly, exists the essential self of the fellow-man who confronts -me. Whatever passes in the consciousness of my fellow-man corresponds -to a reality in his transcendent essence which is independent of -his consciousness. His essential nature acts in that realm which, -on this theory, is equally beyond consciousness. Thus an impression -is made in my consciousness which represents there what is present -in another's consciousness and wholly beyond the reach of my direct -awareness. Clearly the point of this theory is to add to the world -accessible to my consciousness an hypothetical world which is to my -immediate experience inaccessible. This is done to avoid the supposed -alternative of having to say that the external world, which I regard -as existing before me, is nothing but the world of my consciousness, -with the absurd--solipsistic--corollary that other persons likewise -exist only within my consciousness. - -Several epistemological tendencies in recent speculation have joined -in creating this problem. But it is possible to attain to clearness -about it by surveying the situation from the point of view of spiritual -perception which underlies the exposition of this book. What is it -that, in the first instance, I have before me when I confront another -person? To begin with, there is the sensuous appearance of the other's -body, as given in perception. To this we might add the auditory -perception of what he is saying, and so forth. All this I apprehend, -not with a passive stare, but by the activity of my thinking which -is set in motion. Through the thinking with which I now confront the -other person, the percept of him becomes, as it were, psychically -transparent. As my thinking apprehends the percept, I am compelled to -judge that what I perceive is really quite other than it appears to the -outer senses. The sensuous appearance, in being what it immediately is, -reveals something else which it is mediately. In presenting itself to -me as a distinct object, it, at the same time, extinguishes itself -as a mere sensuous appearance. But in thus extinguishing itself it -reveals a character which, so long as it affects me, compels me as a -thinking being to extinguish my own thinking and to put its thinking -in the place of mine. Its thinking is then apprehended by my thinking -as an experience like my own. Thus I have really perceived another's -thinking. For the immediate percept, in extinguishing itself as -sensuous appearance, is apprehended by my thinking. It is a profess -which passes wholly in my consciousness and consists in this, that the -other's thinking takes the place of my thinking. The self-extinction -of the sensuous appearance actually abolishes the separation between -the spheres of the two consciousnesses. In my own consciousness this -fusion manifests itself in that, so long as I experience the contents -of the other's consciousness, I am aware of my own consciousness -as little as I am aware of it in dreamless sleep. Just as my waking -consciousness is eliminated from the latter, so are the contents of -my own consciousness eliminated from my perception of the contents -of another's consciousness. Two things tend to deceive us about -the true facts. The first is that, in perceiving another person, the -extinction of the contents of one's own consciousness is replaced not, -as in sleep, by unconsciousness, but by the contents of the other's -consciousness. The other is that my consciousness of my own self -oscillates so rapidly between extinction and recurrence, that these -alternations usually escape observation. The whole problem is to be -solved, not through artificial construction of concepts, involving an -inference from what is in consciousness to what always must transcend -consciousness, but through genuine experience of the connection between -thinking and perceiving. The same remark applies to many other problems -which appear in philosophical literature. Philosophers should seek -the road to unprejudiced spiritual observation, instead of hiding -reality behind an artificial frontage of concepts. - -In a monograph by Eduard von Hartmann on "The Ultimate Problems of -Epistemology and Metaphysics" (in the Zeitschrift für Philosophie und -philosophische Kritik, Vol. 108, p. 55), my Philosophy of Spiritual -Activity has been classed with the philosophical tendency which seeks -to build upon an "epistemological Monism." Eduard von Hartmann rejects -this position as untenable, for the following reasons. According to -the point of view maintained in his monograph, there are only three -possible positions in the theory of knowledge. The first consists in -remaining true to the naïve point of view, which regards objects of -sense-perception as real things existing outside the human mind. This, -urges Von Hartmann, implies a lack of critical reflection. I fail -to realise that with all my contents of consciousness I remain -imprisoned in my own consciousness. I fail to perceive that I am -dealing, not with a "table-in-itself," but only with a phenomenon -in my own consciousness. If I stop at this point of view, or if -for whatever reasons I return to it, I am a Naïve Realist. But this -whole position is untenable, for it ignores that consciousness has no -other objects than its own contents. The second position consists in -appreciating this situation and confessing it to oneself. As a result, -I become a Transcendental Idealist. As such, says Von Hartmann, I am -obliged to deny that a "thing-in-itself" can ever appear in any way -within the human mind. But, if developed with unflinching consistency, -this view ends in Absolute Illusionism. For the world which confronts -me is now transformed into a mere sum of contents of consciousness, -and, moreover, of contents of my private consciousness. The objects -of other human minds, too, I am then compelled to conceive--absurdly -enough--as present solely in my own consciousness. Hence, the only -tenable position, according to Von Hartmann, is the third, viz., -Transcendental Realism. On this view, there are "things-in-themselves," -but consciousness can have no dealings with them by way of immediate -experience. Existing beyond the sphere of human consciousness, they -cause, in a way of which we remain unconscious, the appearance of -objects in consciousness. These "things-in-themselves" are known only -by inference from the contents of consciousness, which are immediately -experienced but for that very reason, purely ideal. Eduard von -Hartmann maintains in the monograph cited above, that "epistemological -Monism"--for such he takes my point of view to be--is bound to declare -itself identical with one or other of the above three positions; -and that its failure to do so is due only to its inconsistency in not -drawing the actual consequences of its presuppositions. The monograph -goes on to say: "If we want to find out which epistemological position -a so-called Epistemological Monist occupies, all we have to do is -to put to him certain questions and compel him to answer them. For, -out of his own initiative, no Monist will condescend to state his -views on these points, and likewise he will seek to dodge in every -way giving a straight answer to our questions, because every answer he -may give will betray that Epistemological Monism does not differ from -one or other of the three positions. Our questions are the following: -(1) Are things continuous or intermittent in their existence? If the -answer is 'continuous,' we have before us some one of the forms of -Naïve Realism. If the answer is 'intermittent,' we have Transcendental -Idealism. But if the answer is: 'They are, on the one hand, continuous, -viz., as contents of the Absolute Mind, or as unconscious ideas, -or as permanent possibilities of perception, but, on the other hand, -intermittent, viz., as contents of finite consciousness,' we recognise -Transcendental Realism. (2) When three persons are sitting at a table, -how many distinct tables are there? The Naïve Realist answers 'one'; -the Transcendental Idealist answers 'three'; but the Transcendental -Realist answers 'four.' This last answer does, indeed, presuppose -that it is legitimate to group together in the single question, -'How many tables?' things so unlike each other as the one table -which is the 'thing-in-itself' and the three tables which are the -objects of perception in the three perceivers' minds. If this seems -too great a licence to anyone, he will have to answer 'one and three,' -instead of 'four.' (3) When two persons are alone together in a room, -how many distinct persons are there? If you answer 'two'--you are a -Naïve Realist. If you answer 'four,' viz., in each of the two minds -one 'I' and one 'Other,' you are a Transcendental Idealist. If you -answer 'six,' viz., two persons as 'things-in-themselves' and four -persons as ideal objects in the two minds, you are a Transcendental -Realist. In order to show that Epistemological Monism is not one of -these three positions, we should have to give other answers than the -above to each of these three questions. But I cannot imagine what -answers these could be." The answers of the Philosophy of Spiritual -Activity would have to be: (1) Whoever apprehends only what he -perceives of a thing and mistakes these percepts for the reality of -the thing, is a Naïve Realist. He does not realise that, strictly, -he ought to regard these perceptual contents as existing only so long -as he is looking at the objects, so that he ought to conceive the -objects before him as intermittent. As soon, however, as it becomes -clear to him that reality is to be met with only in the percepts -which are organised by thinking, he attains to the insight that the -percepts which appear as intermittent events, reveal themselves as -continuously in existence as soon as they are interpreted by the -constructions of thought. Hence continuity of existence must be -predicated of the contents of perception which living thought has -organised. Only that part which is only perceived, not thought, would -have to be regarded as intermittent if--which is not the case--there -were such a part. (2) When three persons are sitting at a table, -how many distinct tables are there? There is only one table. But -so long as the three persons stop short at their perceptual images, -they ought to say: "These percepts are not the reality at all." As -soon as they pass on to the table as apprehended by thinking, there -is revealed to them the one real table. They are then united with -their three contents of consciousness in this one reality. (3) When -two persons are alone together in a room, how many distinct persons -are there? Most assuredly there are not six--not even in the sense -of the Transcendental Realist's theory--but only two. Only, at first, -each person has nothing but the unreal percept of himself and of the -other person. There are four such percepts, the presence of which in -the minds of the two persons is the stimulus for the apprehension of -reality by their thinking. In this activity of thinking each of the -two persons transcends the sphere of his own consciousness. A living -awareness of the consciousness of the other person as well as of his -own arises in each. In these moments of living awareness the persons -are as little imprisoned within their consciousness as they are in -sleep. But at other moments consciousness of this identification -with the other returns, so that each person, in the experience of -thinking, apprehends consciously both himself and the other person. I -know that a Transcendental Realist describes this view as a relapse -into Naïve Realism. But, then, I have already pointed out in this -book that Naïve Realism retains its justification for our thinking -as we actually experience it. The Transcendental Realist ignores -the true situation in the process of cognition completely. He cuts -himself off from the facts by a tissue of concepts and entangles -himself in it. Moreover, the Monism which appears in the Philosophy -of Spiritual Activity ought not to be labelled "epistemological," -but, if an epithet is wanted, then a "Monism of Thought." All this -has been misunderstood by Eduard von Hartmann. Ignoring all that -is specific in the argumentation of the Philosophy of Spiritual -Activity, he has charged me with having attempted to combine Hegel's -Universalistic Panlogism with Hume's Individualistic Phenomenalism -(Zeitschrift für Philosophie, vol. 108, p. 71, note). But, in truth, -the Philosophy of Spiritual Activity has nothing whatever to do with -the two positions which it is accused of trying to combine. (This, -too, is the reason why I could feel no interest in polemics against, -e.g., the Epistemological Monism of Johannes Rehmke. The point of view -of the Philosophy of Spiritual Activity is simply quite different from -what Eduard von Hartmann and others call "Epistemological Monism.") - - - - - - - - -APPENDIX II - -REVISED INTRODUCTION TO "PHILOSOPHY OF FREEDOM." - - -The following chapter reproduces, in all essentials, the pages -which stood as a sort of "Introduction" in the first edition of this -book. Inasmuch as it rather reflects the mood out of which I composed -this book twenty-five years ago, than has any direct bearing on its -contents, I print it here as an "Appendix." I do not want to omit it -altogether, because the suggestion keeps cropping up that I want to -suppress some of my earlier writings on account of my later works on -spiritual matters. - -Our age is one which is unwilling to seek truth anywhere but in the -depths of human nature. [62] Of the following two well-known paths -described by Schiller, it is the second which will to-day be found -most useful: - - - Wahrheit suchen wir beide, du aussen im Leben, ich innen - In dem Herzen, und so findet sie jeder gewiss. - Ist das Auge gesund, so begegnet es aussen dem Schöpfer - Ist es das Herz, dann gewiss spiegelt es innen die Welt. [63] - - -A truth which comes to us from without bears ever the stamp of -uncertainty. Conviction attaches only to what appears as truth to -each of us in our own hearts. - -Truth alone can give us confidence in developing our powers. He who -is tortured by doubts finds his powers lamed. In a world the riddle -of which baffles him, he can find no aim for his activity. - -We no longer want to believe; we want to know. Belief demands the -acceptance of truths which we do not wholly comprehend. But the -individuality which seeks to experience everything in the depths of -its own being, is repelled by what it cannot understand. Only that -knowledge will satisfy us which springs from the inner life of the -personality, and submits itself to no external norm. - -Again, we do not want any knowledge which has encased itself once and -for all in hide-bound formulas, and which is preserved in Encyclopædias -valid for all time. Each of us claims the right to start from the -facts that lie nearest to hand, from his own immediate experiences, -and thence to ascend to a knowledge of the whole universe. We strive -after certainty in knowledge, but each in his own way. - -Our scientific theories, too, are no longer to be formulated as if we -were unconditionally compelled to accept them. None of us would wish to -give a scientific work a title like Fichte's A Pellucid Account for the -General Public concerning the Real Nature of the Newest Philosophy. An -Attempt to Compel the Readers to Understand. Nowadays there is no -attempt to compel anyone to understand. We claim no agreement from -anyone whom a distinct individual need does not drive to a certain -view. We do not seek nowadays to cram facts of knowledge even into -the immature human being, the child. We seek rather to develop his -faculties in such a way that his understanding may depend no longer on -our compulsion, but on his will. I am under no illusion concerning the -characteristics of the present age. I know how many flaunt a manner -of life which lacks all individuality and follows only the prevailing -fashion. But I know also that many of my contemporaries strive to order -their lives in the direction of the principles I have indicated. To -them I would dedicate this book. It does not pretend to offer the -"only possible" way to Truth, it only describes the path chosen by -one whose heart is set upon Truth. - -The reader will be led at first into somewhat abstract regions, -where thought must draw sharp outlines, if it is to reach secure -conclusions. But he will also be led out of these arid concepts into -concrete life. I am fully convinced that one cannot do without soaring -into the ethereal realm of abstraction, if one's experience is to -penetrate life in all directions. He who is limited to the pleasures -of the senses misses the sweetest enjoyments of life. The Oriental -sages make their disciples live for years a life of resignation and -asceticism before they impart to them their own wisdom. The Western -world no longer demands pious exercises and ascetic practices as a -preparation for science, but it does require a sincere willingness -to withdraw oneself awhile from the immediate impressions of life, -and to betake oneself into the realm of pure thought. - -The spheres of life are many and for each there develops a special -science. But life itself is one, and the more the sciences strive to -penetrate deeply into their separate spheres, the more they withdraw -themselves from the vision of the world as a living whole. There -must be one supreme science which seeks in the separate sciences the -elements for leading men back once more to the fullness of life. The -scientific specialist seeks in his studies to gain a knowledge of the -world and its workings. This book has a philosophical aim: science -itself is here infused with the life of an organic whole. The special -sciences are stages on the way to this all-inclusive science. A similar -relation is found in the arts. The composer in his work employs the -rules of the theory of composition. This latter is an accumulation -of principles, knowledge of which is a necessary presupposition for -composing. In the act of composing, the rules of theory become the -servants of life, of reality. In exactly the same way philosophy is -an art. All genuine philosophers have been artists in concepts. Human -ideas have been the medium of their art, and scientific method their -artistic technique. Abstract thinking thus gains concrete individual -life. Ideas turn into life-forces. We have no longer merely a knowledge -about things, but we have now made knowledge a real, self-determining -organism. Our consciousness, alive and active, has risen beyond a -mere passive reception of truths. - -How philosophy, as an art, is related to freedom; what freedom is; -and whether we do, or can, participate in it--these are the principal -problems of my book. All other scientific discussions are put in only -because they ultimately throw light on these questions which are, -in my opinion, the most intimate that concern mankind. These pages -offer a "Philosophy of Freedom." - -All science would be nothing but the satisfaction of idle curiosity -did it not strive to enhance the existential value of human -personality. The true value of the sciences is seen only when we -are shown the importance of their results for humanity. The final -aim of an individuality can never be the cultivation of any single -faculty, but only the development of all capacities which slumber -within us. Knowledge has value only in so far as it contributes to -the all-round unfolding of the whole nature of man. - -This book, therefore, does not conceive the relation between science -and life in such a way that man must bow down before the world of -ideas and devote his powers to its service. On the contrary, it shows -that he takes possession of the world of ideas in order to use them -for his human aims, which transcend those of mere science. - -Man must confront ideas as master, lest he become their slave. - - - - - - - - -APPENDIX III - -PREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION OF "TRUTH AND SCIENCE" - - -Contemporary philosophy suffers from a morbid belief in Kant. To -help towards our emancipation from this belief is the aim of the -present essay. It would indeed be criminal to try and minimise the -debt which the development of German philosophy owes to Kant's -immortal work. But it is high time to acknowledge that the only -way of laying the foundations for a truly satisfying view of the -world and of human life is to put ourselves in decisive opposition -to the spirit of Kant. What is it that Kant has achieved? He has -shown that the transcendent ground of the world which lies beyond -the data of our senses and the categories of our reason, and which -his predecessors sought to determine by means of empty concepts, -is inaccessible to our knowledge. From this he concluded that all our -scientific thinking must keep within the limits of possible experience, -and is incapable of attaining to knowledge of the transcendent and -ultimate ground of the world, i.e., of the "thing-in-itself." But -what if this "thing-in-itself," this whole transcendent ground of -the world, should be nothing but a fiction? It is easy to see that -this is precisely what it is. An instinct inseparable from human -nature impels us to search for the innermost essence of things, -for their ultimate principles. It is the basis of all scientific -enquiry. But, there is not the least reason to look for this ultimate -ground outside the world of our senses and of our spirit, unless a -thorough and comprehensive examination of this world should reveal -within it elements which point unmistakably to an external cause. - -The present essay attempts to prove that all the principles which we -need in order to explain our world and make it intelligible, are within -reach of our thought. Thus, the assumption of explanatory principles -lying outside our world turns out to be the prejudice of an extinct -philosophy which lived on vain dogmatic fancies. This ought to have -been Kant's conclusion, too, if he had really enquired into the powers -of human thought. Instead, he demonstrated in the most complicated way -that the constitution of our cognitive faculties does not permit us -to reach the ultimate principles which lie beyond our experience. But -we have no reason whatever for positing these principles in any such -Beyond. Thus Kant has indeed refuted "dogmatic" philosophy, but he has -put nothing in its place. Hence, all German philosophy which succeeded -Kant has evolved everywhere in opposition to him. Fichte, Schelling, -Hegel simply ignored the limits fixed by Kant for our knowledge and -sought the ultimate principles, not beyond, but within, the world -accessible to human reason. Even Schopenhauer, though he does declare -the conclusions of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason to be eternal and -irrefutable truths, cannot avoid seeking knowledge of the ultimate -grounds of the world along paths widely divergent from those of his -master. But the fatal mistake of all these thinkers was that they -sought knowledge of ultimate truths, without having laid the foundation -for such an enterprise in a preliminary investigation of the nature -of knowledge itself. Hence, the proud intellectual edifices erected by -Fichte, Schelling and Hegel have no foundation to rest on. The lack of -such foundations reacts most unfavourably upon the arguments of these -thinkers. Ignorant of the importance of the world of pure ideas and -of its relation to the realm of sense-perception, they built error -upon error, one-sidedness upon one-sidedness. No wonder that their -over-bold systems proved unable to withstand the storms of an age -which recked nothing of philosophy. No wonder that many good things -in these systems were pitilessly swept away along with the errors. - -To remedy the defect which has just been indicated is the purpose of -the following investigations. They will not imitate Kant by explaining -what our minds can not know: their aim is to show what our minds -can know. - -The outcome of these investigations is that truth is not, as -the current view has it, an ideal reproduction of a some real -object, but a free product of the human spirit, which would not -exist anywhere at all unless we ourselves produced it. It is not -the task of knowledge to reproduce in conceptual form something -already existing independently. Its task is to create a wholly new -realm which, united with the world of sense-data, ends by yielding -us reality in the full sense. In this way, man's supreme activity, -the creative productivity of his spirit, finds its organic place -in the universal world-process. Without this activity it would be -impossible to conceive the world-process as a totality complete in -itself. Man does not confront the world-process as a passive spectator -who merely copies in his mind the events which occur, without his -participation, in the cosmos without. He is an active co-creator in -the world-process, and his knowledge is the most perfect member of -the organism of the universe. - -This view carries with it an important consequence for our conduct, -for our moral ideals. These, too, must be regarded, not as copies of -an external standard, but as rooted within us. Similarly, we refuse -to look upon our moral laws as the behests of any power outside -us. We know no "categorical imperative" which, like a voice from the -Beyond, prescribes to us what to do or to leave undone. Our moral -ideals are our own free creations. All we have to do is to carry out -what we prescribe to ourselves as the norm of our conduct. Thus, the -concept of truth as a free act leads to a theory of morals based on -the concept of a perfectly free personality. - -These theses, of course, are valid only for that part of our -conduct the laws of which our thinking penetrates with complete -comprehension. So long as the laws of our conduct are merely natural -motives or remain obscure to our conceptual thinking, it may be -possible from a higher spiritual level to perceive how far they are -founded in our individuality, but we ourselves experience them as -influencing us from without, as compelling us to action. Every time -that we succeed in penetrating such a motive with clear understanding, -we make a fresh conquest in the realm of freedom. - -The relation of these views to the theory of Eduard von Hartmann, -who is the most significant figure in contemporary philosophy, will -be made clear to the reader in detail in the course of this essay, -especially as regards the problem of knowledge. - -A prelude to a Philosophy of Spiritual Activity--this is what the -present essay offers. That philosophy itself, completely worked out, -will shortly follow. - -The ultimate aim of all science is to increase the value of existence -for human personality. Whoever does not devote himself to science -with this aim in view is merely modelling himself in his own work upon -some master. If he "researches," it is merely because that happens to -be what he has been taught to do. But not for him is the title of a -"free thinker." - -The sciences are seen in their true value only when philosophy explains -the human significance of their results. To make a contribution to such -an explanation was my aim. But, perhaps, our present-day science scorns -all philosophical vindication! If so, two things are certain. One -is that this essay of mine is superfluous. The other is that modern -thinkers are lost in the wood and do not know what they want. - -In concluding this Preface, I cannot omit a personal observation. Up -to now I have expounded all my philosophical views on the basis of -Goethe's world-view, into which I was first introduced by my dear -and revered teacher, Karl Julius Schröer, who to me stands in the -very forefront of Goethe-students, because his gaze is ever focussed -beyond the particular upon the universal Ideas. - -But, with this essay I hope to have shown that the edifice of my -thought is a whole which has its foundations in itself and which -does not need to be derived from Goethe's world-view. My theories, -as they are here set forth and as they will presently be amplified -in the Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, have grown up in the course -of many years. Nothing but a deep sense of gratitude leads me to -add that the affectionate sympathy of the Specht family in Vienna, -during the period when I was the tutor of its children, provided me -with an environment, than which I could not have wished a better, for -the development of my ideas. In the same spirit, I would add, further, -that I owe to the stimulating conversations with my very dear friend, -Miss Rosa Mayreder, of Vienna, the mood which I needed for putting into -final form many of the thoughts which I have sketched provisionally as -germs of my Philosophy of Spiritual Activity. Her own literary efforts, -which express the sensitive and high-minded nature of a true artist, -are likely before long to be presented to the public. - - -Vienna, December, 1891. - - - - - - - - -APPENDIX IV - -INTRODUCTION TO ORIGINAL EDITION OF "TRUTH AND SCIENCE" - - -The aim of the following discussions is to reduce the act of cognition, -by analysis, to its ultimate elements and thus to discover a correct -formulation of the problem of knowledge and a way to its solution. They -criticise all theories of knowledge which are based on Kant's line -of thought, in order to show that along this road no solution of -the problem of knowledge can ever be found. It is, however, due to -the fundamental spade-work which Volkelt has done in his thorough -examination of the concept of experience, [64] to acknowledge that -without his preliminary labours the precise determination, which -I have here attempted of the concept of the Given would have been -very much more difficult. However, we are cherishing the hope that we -have laid the foundations for our emancipation from the Subjectivism -which attaches to all theories of knowledge that start from Kant. We -believe ourselves to have achieved this emancipation through showing -that the subjective form, in which the picture of the world presents -itself to the act of cognition, prior to its elaboration by science, -is nothing but a necessary stage of transition which is overcome in -the very process of knowledge itself. For us, experience, so-called, -which Positivism and Neo-Kantianism would like to represent as the -only thing which is certain, is precisely the most subjective of -all. In demonstrating this, we also show that Objective Idealism is -the inevitable conclusion of a theory of knowledge which understands -itself. It differs from the metaphysical and absolute Idealism of Hegel -in this, that it seeks in the subject of knowledge the ground for the -diremption of reality into given existence and concept, and that it -looks for the reconciliation of this divorce, not in an objective -world-dialectic, but in the subjective process of cognition. The -present writer has already once before advocated this point of view -in print, viz., in the Outlines of a Theory of Knowledge (Berlin and -Stuttgart, 1885). However, that book differs essentially in method -from the present essay, and it also lacks the analytic reduction of -knowledge to its ultimate elements. - - - - - - - - -NOTES - -[1] Two souls, alas! reside within my breast, - And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother. - One with tenacious organs holds in love - And clinging lust the world in its embraces; - The other strongly sweeps, this dust above, - Into the high ancestral spaces. - - Faust, Part I, Scene 2. - - (Bayard Taylor's translation.) - -[2] Knowledge is transcendental when it is aware that nothing can -be asserted directly about the thing-in-itself but makes indirect -inferences from the subjective which is known to the unknown which -lies beyond the subjective (transcendental). The thing-in-itself is, -according to this view, beyond the sphere of the world of immediate -experience; in other words, it is transcendent. Our world can, however, -be transcendentally related to the transcendent. Hartmann's theory is -called Realism because it proceeds from the subjective, the mental, -to the transcendent, the real. - -[3] The way in which the above view has influenced psychology, -physiology, etc., in various directions has been set forth by the -author in works published after this book. Here he is concerned only -with characterising the results of an open-minded study of thinking -itself. - -[4] The passage from page 146 down to this point has been added, -or rewritten, for the present Revised Edition. (1918). - -[5] A complete catalogue of the principles of morality (from the -point of view of Metaphysical Realism) may be found in Eduard von -Hartmann's Phänomenologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins. - -[6] Translation by Abbott, Kant's Theory of Ethics, p. 180; Critique -of Pure Practical Reason, chap. iii. - -[7] For the manner in which I have here spoken of "Materialism," -and for the justification of so speaking of it, see the Addition at -the end of this chapter. - -[8] Only a superficial critic will find in the use of the word -"faculty," in this and other passages, a relapse into the old-fashioned -doctrine of faculties of the soul. - -[9] When Paulsen, p. 15 of the book mentioned above, says: "Different -natural endowments and different conditions of life demand both a -different bodily and also a different mental and moral diet," he -is very close to the correct view, but yet he misses the decisive -point. In so far as I am an individual, I need no diet. Dietetic -means the art of bringing a particular specimen into harmony with the -universal laws of the genus. But as an individual I am not a specimen -of a genus. - -[10] The Editor would call the reader's attention to the fact that -this book was written in 1894. For many years Dr. Steiner's efforts -have been chiefly concentrated in upholding the Divinity of Christ -consistently with the broader lines of the Christian Churches. - -[11] We are entitled to speak of thoughts (ethical ideas) as objects -of observation. For, although the products of thinking do not enter -the field of observation, so long as the thinking goes on, they may -well become objects of observation subsequently. In this way we have -gained our characterisation of action. - -[12] Those who want to settle by calculation whether the sum total of -pleasure or that of pain is bigger, ignore that they are subjecting -to calculation something which is nowhere experienced. Feeling does -not calculate, and what matters for the real valuing of life is what -we really experience, not what results from an imaginary calculation. - -[13] We disregard here the case where excessive increase of pleasure -turns pleasure into pain. - -[14] Immediately upon the publication of this book (1894), critics -objected to the above arguments that, even now, within the generic -character of her sex, a woman is able to shape her life individually, -just as she pleases, and far more freely than a man who is already -de-individualised, first by the school, and later by war and -profession. I am aware that this objection will be urged to-day, even -more strongly. None the less, I feel bound to let my sentences stand, -in the hope that there are readers who appreciate how violently such -an objection runs counter to the concept of freedom advocated in this -book, and who will interpret my sentences above by another standard -than that of man's loss of individuality through school and profession. - -[15] The Preface and Introduction to the original edition of "Truth -and Science" are printed as Appendix III and Appendix IV at the end -of this volume. - -[16] l.c., p. 20. - -[17] cf. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, Intr. to 2nd edit., Section vi. - -[18] Prolegomena, Section v. - -[19] Critique of Pure Reason, Intr., Section iv. - -[20] cf. his Analyse der Wirklichkeit, Gedanken und Tatsachen. - -[21] "Possible" here means merely conceivable. - -[22] cf. Die Welt als Wahrnehmung und Begriff, pp. 161 ff. - -[23] This attempt, by the way, is one which the objections of Robert -Zimmermann (Über Kant's mathematisches Vorurteil und dessen Folgen) -show to be, if not wholly mistaken, at least highly questionable. - -[24] Critique of Pure Reason, Intr. to 2nd edit., Section ii. - -[25] cf. Kant's Theorie der Erfahrung, pp. 90 ff. - -[26] l.c., Section v. - -[27] cf. Kant's Theorie der Erfahrung, pp. 90 ff. - -[28] cf. Die Grundsätze der reinen Erkenntnistheorie in der Kantischen -Philosophie, p. 76. - -[29] l.c., p. 21. - -[30] Zur Analyse der Wirklichkeit, pp. 211 ff. - -[31] Darstellung der Kantischen Erkenntnistheorie, p. 14. - -[32] Vierteljahrsschrift für Wissenschaftliche Philosophie, 1877, -p. 239. - -[33] System der Logik, 3rd edit., pp. 380 ff. - -[34] Kritische Grundlagen des Transcendentalen Realismus, pp. 142-172. - -[35] Geschichte der Neueren Philosophie, Vol. v., p. 60. Volkelt -is mistaken about Fischer when he says (Kant's Erkenntnistheorie, -p. 198, n.) that "it is not clear from Fischer's account whether, -in his opinion, Kant takes for granted only the psychological fact of -the occurrence of universal and necessary judgments, but also their -objective validity and truth." For, in the passage referred to above, -Fischer says that the chief difficulty of the Critique of Pure Reason -is to be found in the fact that "its fundamental positions rest on -certain presuppositions" which "have to be granted if the rest is to -be valid." These presuppositions consist for Fischer, too, in this, -that "first the fact of knowledge is affirmed," and then analysis -reveals the cognitive faculties "by means of which that fact itself -is explained." - -[36] How far our own epistemological discussions conform to this -method, will be shown in Section iv, "The Starting-points of the -Theory of Knowledge." - -[37] l.c., Preface, p. x. - -[38] Zur Analyse der Wirklichkeit (Strassburg, 1876), p. 28. - -[39] Kant's Erkenntnistheorie, Section i. - -[40] A. Dorner, Das menschliche Erkennen (Berlin, 1887). - -[41] Rehmke, l.c. - -[42] Die Lehre vom Wissen (Berlin, 1868). - -[43] Die Grundfragen der Erkenntnistheorie (Mainz, 1887) p. 385. - -[44] System der kritischen Philosophie, I. Teil, p. 257. - -[45] Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie, p. 37. - -[46] Philosophische Monatshefte, Vol. xxvi (1890), p. 390. - -[47] Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie, p. 1. - -[48] By "concept" I mean a rule for the synthesis of the disconnected -data of perception into a unity. Causality, e.g., is a "concept." By -"idea" I mean nothing but a concept of richer connotation. "Organism," -taken quite generally, is an example of an "idea." - -[49] It ought not to be necessary to say that the term "centre," -here, is not intended to affirm a theory concerning the nature of -consciousness, but is used merely as a shorthand expression for the -total physiognomy of consciousness. - -[50] Fichte's Sämtliche Werke, Vol. I, p. 71. - -[51] l.c., Vol. I, p. 97. - -[52] l.c., Vol. I, p. 91. - -[53] l.c., Vol. I, p. 178. - -[54] l.c., Vol. I, p. 91. - -[55] Geschichte der Philosophie, p. 605. - -[56] Fichte, Sämtliche Werke, Vol. I, p. 94. - -[57] l.c., Vol. I, p. 98. - -[58] l.c., Vol. I, p. 422. - -[59] Delivered in the autumn of 1813 at the University of Berlin. See -Nachgelassene Werke, Vol. I, p. 4. - -[60] l.c., Vol. I, p. 16. - -[61] cf. his Christliche Dogmatik, 2nd edit., 1884-5. The -epistemological arguments are in Vol. I. An exhaustive discussion -of his point of view has been furnished by E. von Hartmann. See his -Kritische Wanderungen durch die Philosophie der Gegenwart, pp. 200 ff. - -[62] Only the very first opening sentences (in the first edition) of -this argument have been altogether omitted here, because they seem -to me to-day wholly irrelevant. But the rest of the chapter seems -to me even to day relevant and necessary, in spite, nay, because, -of the scientific bias of contemporary thought. - -[63] Truth seek we both--Thou in the life without thee and around; - I in the heart within. By both can Truth alike be found. - The healthy eye can through the world the great Creator track; - The healthy heart is but the glass which gives Creation back. - - Bulwer. - -[64] Erfahrung und Denken, Kritische Grundlegung der Erkenntnistheorie, -von Johannes Volkelt (Hamburg und Leipzig, 1886). - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, by -Rudolph Steiner - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILOSOPHY OF SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY *** - -***** This file should be named 55761-8.txt or 55761-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/7/6/55761/ - -Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net/ for Project -Gutenberg (This book was produced from scanned images of -public domain material from the Google Books project.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |