{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_55761/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_55761","id":"gutenberg_55761","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55761","summary":null,"tags":["Anthroposophy","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Free will and determinism","Knowledge, Theory of","Life"],"text":"THE PHILOSOPHY OF\n                           SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY\n                      A Modern Philosophy of Life\n                    Developed by Scientific Methods\n\n\n                           By RUDOLF STEINER\n                             Ph.D. (Vienna)\n\n                Being an Enlarged and Revised Edition of\n                      \"The Philosophy of Freedom,\"\n                  together with the Original Thesis on\n                          \"Truth and Science\"\n\n                       AUTHORIZED TRANSLATION BY\n                 Professor & Mrs. R. F. ALFRED HOERNL\u00c9\n\n\n                          G. P. Putnam's Sons\n                           London & New York\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEDITOR'S NOTE\n\n\nThe following pages are a translation of Dr. Steiner's Philosophie der\nFreiheit, which was published in Germany some twenty years ago. The\nedition was soon exhausted, and has never been reprinted; copies are\nmuch sought after but very difficult to obtain.\n\nThe popularity of Dr. Steiner's later works upon ethics, mysticism,\nand kindred subjects has caused people to forget his earlier work upon\nphilosophy in spite of the fact that he makes frequent references\nto this book and it contains the germs of which many of his present\nviews are the logical outcome. For the above reasons, and with the\nauthor's sanction, I have decided to publish a translation.\n\nI have had the good fortune to have been able to secure as joint\ntranslators Mrs. Hoernl\u00e9, who, after graduating in the University of\nthe Cape of Good Hope, continued her studies in the Universities of\nCambridge, Leipzig, Paris, and Bonn, and her husband, Mr. R. F. Alfred\nHoernl\u00e9, Assistant Professor of Philosophy at Harvard University,\nU.S.A., formerly Jenkyns Exhibitioner, Balliol College, Oxford,\ntheir thorough knowledge of philosophy and their complete command\nof the German and English languages enabling them to overcome the\ndifficulty of finding adequate English equivalents for the terms of\nGerman Philosophy.\n\nI am glad to seize this opportunity of acknowledging my indebtedness\nto these two, without whom this publication could not have been\nundertaken.\n\n\nHARRY COLLISON.\n\nMarch 1916.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nEDITOR'S NOTE TO SECOND EDITION\n\n\nIn 1918 Dr. Steiner published a revised edition of the Philosophie\nder Freiheit. For the translation of the new passages added to, and\nof the incidental changes made in, this revised edition I am indebted\nto Mr. Hoernl\u00e9, now Professor of Philosophy in the Armstrong College\n(Newcastle-upon-Tyne), University of Durham.\n\nAt the author's request I have changed the title to Philosophy of\nSpiritual Activity, and throughout the entire work \"freedom\" should\nbe taken to mean \"spiritual activity.\"\n\nDr. Steiner's Ph. D. Thesis on \"Truth and Science,\" originally\npublished as a prelude to The Philosophy of Freedom, has, with his\nconsent, been translated for this edition and been added at the end\nof this volume.\n\n\nH. C.\n\nMarch 1921.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n    CHAP.                                                       PAGE\n\nPREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918)                             XI\n\nTHE THEORY OF FREEDOM\n\n    I     CONSCIOUS HUMAN ACTION                                   1\n    II    WHY THE DESIRE FOR KNOWLEDGE IS FUNDAMENTAL             14\n    III   THOUGHT AS THE INSTRUMENT OF KNOWLEDGE                  24\n    IV    THE WORLD AS PERCEPT                                    48\n    V     OUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD                              73\n    VI    HUMAN INDIVIDUALITY                                    101\n    VII   ARE THERE LIMITS TO KNOWLEDGE?                         109\n\nTHE REALITY OF FREEDOM\n\n    VIII  THE FACTORS OF LIFE                                    137\n    IX    THE IDEA OF FREEDOM                                    146\n    X     MONISM AND THE PHILOSOPHY OF SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY        178\n    XI    WORLD-PURPOSE AND LIFE-PURPOSE (THE DESTINY OF MAN)    190\n    XII   MORAL IMAGINATION (DARWIN AND MORALITY)                198\n    XIII  THE VALUE OF LIFE (OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM)             213\n    XIV   THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE GENUS                           250\n\nULTIMATE QUESTIONS\n\n    XV    THE CONSEQUENCES OF MONISM                             259\n\nTRUTH AND SCIENCE\n\n    I     PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS                               277\n    II    THE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEM OF KANT'S THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE  280\n    III   THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE SINCE KANT                         291\n    IV    THE STARTING-POINTS OF THE THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE         304\n    V     KNOWLEDGE AND REALITY                                  319\n    VI    THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT PRESUPPOSITIONS VERSUS\n          FICHTE'S THEORY OF SCIENCE                             329\n    VII   CONCLUDING REMARKS: EPISTEMOLOGICAL                    347\n    VIII  CONCLUDING REMARKS: PRACTICAL                          351\n\nAPPENDICES\n\n    I     ADDITION TO REVISED EDITION OF \"THE PHILOSOPHY OF\n          FREEDOM\" 1918                                          357\n    II    REVISED INTRODUCTION TO \"THE PHILOSOPHY OF FREEDOM\"    368\n    III   PREFACE TO ORIGINAL EDITION OF \"TRUTH AND SCIENCE\"     374\n    IV    INTRODUCTION TO ORIGINAL EDITION OF \"TRUTH AND\n          SCIENCE\"                                               381\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918)\n\n\nThere are two fundamental problems in the life of the human mind,\nto one or other of which everything belongs that is to be discussed\nin this book. One of these problems concerns the possibility of\nattaining to such a view of the essential nature of man as will\nserve as a support for whatever else comes into his life by way\nof experience or of science, and yet is subject to the suspicion of\nhaving no support in itself and of being liable to be driven, by doubt\nand criticism, into the limbo of uncertainties. The other problem is\nthis: Is man, as voluntary agent, entitled to attribute freedom to\nhimself, or is freedom a mere illusion begotten of his inability to\nrecognise the threads of necessity on which his volition, like any\nnatural event, depends? It is no artificial tissue of theories which\nprovokes this question. In a certain mood it presents itself quite\nnaturally to the human mind. And it is easy to feel that a mind lacks\nsomething of its full stature which has never once confronted with\nthe utmost seriousness of inquiry the two possibilities--freedom\nor necessity. This book is intended to show that the spiritual\nexperiences which the second problem causes man to undergo, depend\nupon the position he is able to take up towards the first problem. An\nattempt will be made to prove that there is a view concerning the\nessential nature of man which can support the rest of knowledge; and,\nfurther, an attempt to point out how with this view we gain a complete\njustification for the idea of free will, provided only that we have\nfirst discovered that region of the mind in which free volition can\nunfold itself.\n\nThe view to which we here refer is one which, once gained, is\ncapable of becoming part and parcel of the very life of the mind\nitself. The answer given to the two problems will not be of the\npurely theoretical sort which, once mastered, may be carried about\nas a mere piece of memory-knowledge. Such an answer would, for the\nwhole manner of thinking adopted in this book, be no real answer at\nall. The book will not give a finished and complete answer of this\nsort, but point to a field of spiritual experience in which man's\nown inward spiritual activity supplies a living answer to these\nquestions, as often as he needs one. Whoever has once discovered the\nregion of the mind where these questions arise, will find precisely\nin his actual acquaintance with this region all that he needs for the\nsolution of his two problems. With the knowledge thus acquired he may\nthen, as desire or fate dictate, adventure further into the breadths\nand depths of this unfathomable life of ours. Thus it would appear\nthat there is a kind of knowledge which proves its justification and\nvalidity by its own inner life as well as by the kinship of its own\nlife with the whole life of the human mind.\n\nThis is how I conceived the contents of this book when I first wrote\nit twenty-five years ago. To-day, once again, I have to set down\nsimilar sentences if I am to characterise the leading thoughts of\nmy book. At the original writing I contented myself with saying no\nmore than was in the strictest sense connected with the fundamental\nproblems which I have outlined. If anyone should be astonished at\nnot finding in this book as yet any reference to that region of the\nworld of spiritual experience of which I have given an account in my\nlater writings, I would ask him to bear in mind that it was not my\npurpose at that time to set down the results of spiritual research,\nbut first to lay the foundations on which such results can rest. The\nPhilosophy of Spiritual Activity contains no special results of\nthis spiritual sort, as little as it contains special results of\nthe natural sciences. But what it does contain is, in my judgment,\nindispensable for anyone who desires a secure foundation for such\nknowledge. What I have said in this book may be acceptable even to\nsome who, for reasons of their own, refuse to have anything to do with\nthe results of my researches into the Spiritual Realm. But anyone who\nfinds something to attract him in my inquiries into the Spiritual\nRealm may well appreciate the importance of what I was here trying\nto do. It is this: to show that open-minded consideration simply of\nthe two problems which I have indicated and which are fundamental\nfor all knowledge, leads to the view that man lives in the midst of\na genuine Spiritual World. The aim of this book is to demonstrate,\nprior to our entry upon spiritual experience, that knowledge of the\nSpiritual World is a fact. This demonstration is so conducted that it\nis never necessary, in order to accept the present arguments, to cast\nfurtive glances at the experiences on which I have dwelt in my later\nwritings. All that is necessary is that the reader should be willing\nand able to adapt himself to the manner of the present discussions.\n\nThus it seems to me that in one sense this book occupies a\nposition completely independent of my writings on strictly spiritual\nmatters. Yet in another sense it seems to be most intimately connected\nwith them. These considerations have moved me now, after a lapse of\ntwenty-five years, to re-publish the contents of this book in the\nmain without essential alterations. I have only made additions of some\nlength to a number of chapters. The misunderstandings of my argument\nwith which I have met seemed to make these more detailed elaborations\nnecessary. Actual changes of text have been made by me only where\nit seemed to me now that I had said clumsily what I meant to say a\nquarter of a century ago. (Only malice could find in these changes\noccasion to suggest that I have changed my fundamental conviction.)\n\nFor many years my book has been out of print. In spite of the fact,\nwhich is apparent from what I have just said, that my utterances\nof twenty-five years ago about these problems still seem to me just\nas relevant today, I hesitated a long time about the completion of\nthis revised edition. Again and again I have asked myself whether I\nought not, at this point or that, to define my position towards the\nnumerous philosophical theories which have been put forward since the\npublication of the first edition. Yet my preoccupation in recent years\nwith researches into the purely Spiritual Realm prevented my doing as I\ncould have wished. However, a survey, as thorough as I could make it,\nof the philosophical literature of the present day has convinced me\nthat such a critical discussion, alluring though it would be in itself,\nwould be out of place in the context of what my book has to say. All\nthat, from the point of view of the Philosophy of Spiritual Activity,\nit seemed to me necessary to say about recent philosophical tendencies\nmay be found in the second volume of my Riddles of Philosophy.\n\n\nRUDOLF STEINER.\n\nApril 1918.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE THEORY OF FREEDOM\n\n\nI\n\nCONSCIOUS HUMAN ACTION\n\n\nIs man free in action and thought, or is he bound by an iron\nnecessity? There are few questions on which so much ingenuity has\nbeen expended. The idea of freedom has found enthusiastic supporters\nand stubborn opponents in plenty. There are those who, in their\nmoral fervour, label anyone a man of limited intelligence who can\ndeny so patent a fact as freedom. Opposed to them are others who\nregard it as the acme of unscientific thinking for anyone to believe\nthat the uniformity of natural law is broken in the sphere of human\naction and thought. One and the same thing is thus proclaimed, now\nas the most precious possession of humanity, now as its most fatal\nillusion. Infinite subtlety has been employed to explain how human\nfreedom can be consistent with determinism in nature of which man,\nafter all, is a part. Others have been at no less pains to explain\nhow such a delusion as this could have arisen. That we are dealing\nhere with one of the most important questions for life, religion,\nconduct, science, must be clear to every one whose most prominent\ntrait of character is not the reverse of thoroughness. It is one\nof the sad signs of the superficiality of present-day thought, that\na book which attempts to develop a new faith out of the results of\nrecent scientific research (David Friedrich Strauss, Der alte und\nneue Glaube), has nothing more to say on this question than these\nwords: \"With the question of the freedom of the human will we are\nnot concerned. The alleged freedom of indifferent choice has been\nrecognised as an empty illusion by every philosophy worthy of the\nname. The determination of the moral value of human conduct and\ncharacter remains untouched by this problem.\" It is not because I\nconsider that the book in which it occurs has any special importance\nthat I quote this passage, but because it seems to me to express the\nonly view to which the thought of the majority of our contemporaries\nis able to rise in this matter. Every one who has grown beyond the\nkindergarten-stage of science appears to know nowadays that freedom\ncannot consist in choosing, at one's pleasure, one or other of\ntwo possible courses of action. There is always, so we are told,\na perfectly definite reason why, out of several possible actions,\nwe carry out just one and no other.\n\nThis seems quite obvious. Nevertheless, down to the present day, the\nmain attacks of the opponents of freedom are directed only against\nfreedom of choice. Even Herbert Spencer, in fact, whose doctrines are\ngaining ground daily, says, \"That every one is at liberty to desire or\nnot to desire, which is the real proposition involved in the dogma of\nfree will, is negatived as much by the analysis of consciousness, as by\nthe contents of the preceding chapters\" (The Principles of Psychology,\nPart IV, chap. ix, par. 219). Others, too, start from the same point\nof view in combating the concept of free will. The germs of all the\nrelevant arguments are to be found as early as Spinoza. All that\nhe brought forward in clear and simple language against the idea of\nfreedom has since been repeated times without number, but as a rule\nenveloped in the most sophisticated arguments, so that it is difficult\nto recognise the straightforward train of thought which is alone in\nquestion. Spinoza writes in a letter of October or November, 1674,\n\"I call a thing free which exists and acts from the pure necessity of\nits nature, and I call that unfree, of which the being and action are\nprecisely and fixedly determined by something else. Thus, e.g., God,\nthough necessary, is free because he exists only through the necessity\nof his own nature. Similarly, God knows himself and all else as free,\nbecause it follows solely from the necessity of his nature that he\nknows all. You see, therefore, that for me freedom consists not in\nfree decision, but in free necessity.\n\n\"But let us come down to created things which are all determined\nby external causes to exist and to act in a fixed and definite\nmanner. To perceive this more clearly, let us imagine a perfectly\nsimple case. A stone, for example, receives from an external cause\nacting upon it a certain quantity of motion, by reason of which it\nnecessarily continues to move, after the impact of the external cause\nhas ceased. The continued motion of the stone is due to compulsion, not\nto the necessity of its own nature, because it requires to be defined\nby the impact of an external cause. What is true here for the stone\nis true also for every other particular thing, however complicated and\nmany-sided it may be, namely, that everything is necessarily determined\nby external causes to exist and to act in a fixed and definite manner.\n\n\"Now, pray, assume that this stone during its motion thinks and\nknows that it is striving to the best of its power to continue in\nmotion. This stone which is conscious only of its striving and is\nby no means indifferent, will believe that it is absolutely free,\nand that it continues in motion for no other reason than its own\nwill to continue. Now this is that human freedom which everybody\nclaims to possess and which consists in nothing but this, that men\nare conscious of their desires, but ignorant of the causes by which\nthey are determined. Thus the child believes that he desires milk of\nhis own free will, the angry boy regards his desire for vengeance as\nfree, and the coward his desire for flight. Again, the drunken man\nbelieves that he says of his own free will what, sober again, he would\nfain have left unsaid, and as this prejudice is innate in all men,\nit is difficult to free oneself from it. For, although experience\nteaches us often enough that man least of all can temper his desires,\nand that, moved by conflicting passions, he perceives the better and\npursues the worse, yet he considers himself free because there are\nsome things which he desires less strongly, and some desires which he\ncan easily inhibit through the recollection of something else which\nit is often possible to recall.\"\n\nIt is easy to detect the fundamental error of this view, because it\nis so clearly and definitely expressed. The same necessity by which\na stone makes a definite movement as the result of an impact, is\nsaid to compel a man to carry out an action when impelled thereto by\nany cause. It is only because man is conscious of his action, that he\nthinks himself to be its originator. In doing so, he overlooks the fact\nthat he is driven by a cause which he must obey unconditionally. The\nerror in this train of thought is easily brought to light. Spinoza,\nand all who think like him, overlook the fact that man not only is\nconscious of his action, but also may become conscious of the cause\nwhich guides him. Anyone can see that a child is not free when he\ndesires milk, nor the drunken man when he says things which he later\nregrets. Neither knows anything of the causes, working deep within\ntheir organisms, which exercise irresistible control over them. But\nis it justifiable to lump together actions of this kind with those\nin which a man is conscious not only of his actions but also of their\ncauses? Are the actions of men really all of one kind? Should the act\nof a soldier on the field of battle, of the scientific researcher in\nhis laboratory, of the statesman in the most complicated diplomatic\nnegotiations, be placed on the same level with that of the child\nwhen he desires milk? It is, no doubt, true that it is best to seek\nthe solution of a problem where the conditions are simplest. But\nlack of ability to see distinctions has before now caused endless\nconfusion. There is, after all, a profound difference between\nknowing the motive of my action and not knowing it. At first sight\nthis seems a self-evident truth. And yet the opponents of freedom\nnever ask themselves whether a motive of action which I recognise\nand understand, is to be regarded as compulsory for me in the same\nsense as the organic process which causes the child to cry for milk.\n\nEduard von Hartmann, in his Ph\u00e4nomenologie des Sittlichen Bewusstseins\n(p. 451), asserts that the human will depends on two chief factors,\nthe motives and the character. If one regards men as all alike, or at\nany rate the differences between them as negligible, then their will\nappears as determined from without, viz., by the circumstances with\nwhich they come in contact. But if one bears in mind that men adopt an\nidea as the motive of their conduct, only if their character is such\nthat this idea arouses a desire in them, then men appear as determined\nfrom within and not from without. Now, because an idea, given to us\nfrom without, must first in accordance with our characters be adopted\nas a motive, men believe that they are free, i.e., independent of\nexternal influences. The truth, however, according to Eduard von\nHartmann, is that \"even though we must first adopt an idea as a\nmotive, we do so not arbitrarily, but according to the disposition\nof our characters, that is, we are anything but free.\" Here again\nthe difference between motives, which I allow to influence me only\nafter I have consciously made them my own, and those which I follow\nwithout any clear knowledge of them, is absolutely ignored.\n\nThis leads us straight to the standpoint from which the subject will\nbe treated here. Have we any right to consider the question of the\nfreedom of the will by itself at all? And if not, with what other\nquestion must it necessarily be connected?\n\nIf there is a difference between conscious and unconscious motives of\naction, then the action in which the former issue should be judged\ndifferently from the action which springs from blind impulse. Hence\nour first question will concern this difference, and on the result\nof this inquiry will depend what attitude we ought to take up towards\nthe question of freedom proper.\n\nWhat does it mean to have knowledge of the motives of one's\nactions? Too little attention has been paid to this question, because,\nunfortunately, man who is an indivisible whole has always been torn\nasunder by us. The agent has been divorced from the knower, whilst he\nwho matters more than everything else, viz., the man who acts because\nhe knows, has been utterly overlooked.\n\nIt is said that man is free when he is controlled only by his reason,\nand not by his animal passions. Or, again, that to be free means to\nbe able to determine one's life and action by purposes and deliberate\ndecisions.\n\nNothing is gained by assertions of this sort. For the question is just\nwhether reason, purposes, and decisions exercise the same kind of\ncompulsion over a man as his animal passions. If, without my doing,\na rational decision occurs in me with the same necessity with which\nhunger and thirst happen to me, then I must needs obey it, and my\nfreedom is an illusion.\n\nAnother form of expression runs: to be free means, not that we can will\nwhat we will, but that we can do what we will. This thought has been\nexpressed with great clearness by the poet-philosopher Robert Hamerling\nin his Atomistik des Willens. \"Man can, it is true, do what he wills,\nbut he cannot will what he wills, because his will is determined by\nmotives! He cannot will what he wills? Let us consider these phrases\nmore closely. Have they any intelligible meaning? Does freedom of will,\nthen, mean being able to will without ground, without motive? What\ndoes willing mean if not to have grounds for doing, or striving to do,\nthis rather than that? To will anything without ground or motive would\nmean to will something without willing it. The concept of motive is\nindissolubly bound up with that of will. Without the determining\nmotive the will is an empty faculty; it is the motive which makes\nit active and real. It is, therefore, quite true that the human will\nis not 'free,' inasmuch as its direction is always determined by the\nstrongest motive. But, on the other hand, it must be admitted that it\nis absurd to speak, in contrast with this 'unfreedom,' of a conceivable\n'freedom' of the will, which would consist in being able to will what\none does not will\" (Atomistik des Willens, p. 213 ff.).\n\nHere, again, only motives in general are mentioned, without taking into\naccount the difference between unconscious and conscious motives. If\na motive affects me, and I am compelled to act on it because it proves\nto be the \"strongest\" of its kind, then the idea of freedom ceases to\nhave any meaning. How should it matter to me whether I can do a thing\nor not, if I am forced by the motive to do it? The primary question\nis, not whether I can do a thing or not when impelled by a motive,\nbut whether the only motives are such as impel me with absolute\nnecessity. If I must will something, then I may well be absolutely\nindifferent as to whether I can also do it. And if, through my\ncharacter, or through circumstances prevailing in my environment,\na motive is forced on me which to my thinking is unreasonable, then\nI should even have to be glad if I could not do what I will.\n\nThe question is, not whether I can carry out a decision once made,\nbut how I come to make the decision.\n\nWhat distinguishes man from all other organic beings is his rational\nthought. Activity is common to him with other organisms. Nothing is\ngained by seeking analogies in the animal world to clear up the concept\nof freedom as applied to the actions of human beings. Modern science\nloves these analogies. When scientists have succeeded in finding among\nanimals something similar to human behaviour, they believe they have\ntouched on the most important question of the science of man. To what\nmisunderstandings this view leads is seen, for example, in the book\nDie Illusion der Willensfreiheit, by P. Ree, 1885, where, on Page 5,\nthe following remark on freedom appears: \"It is easy to explain why\nthe movement of a stone seems to us necessary, while the volition\nof a donkey does not. The causes which set the stone in motion are\nexternal and visible, while the causes which determine the donkey's\nvolition are internal and invisible. Between us and the place of their\nactivity there is the skull cap of the ass.... The causal nexus is\nnot visible and is therefore thought to be non-existent. The volition,\nit is explained, is, indeed, the cause of the donkey's turning round,\nbut is itself unconditioned; it is an absolute beginning.\" Here again\nhuman actions in which there is a consciousness of the motives are\nsimply ignored, for Ree declares, \"that between us and the sphere of\ntheir activity there is the skull cap of the ass.\" As these words\nshow, it has not so much as dawned on Ree that there are actions,\nnot indeed of the ass, but of human beings, in which the motive,\nbecome conscious, lies between us and the action. Ree demonstrates\nhis blindness once again a few pages further on, when he says,\n\"We do not perceive the causes by which our will is determined,\nhence we think it is not causally determined at all.\"\n\nBut enough of examples which prove that many argue against freedom\nwithout knowing in the least what freedom is.\n\nThat an action of which the agent does not know why he performs\nit, cannot be free goes without saying. But what of the freedom\nof an action about the motives of which we reflect? This leads us\nto the question of the origin and meaning of thought. For without\nthe recognition of the activity of mind which is called thought,\nit is impossible to understand what is meant either by knowledge of\nsomething or by action. When we know what thought in general means,\nit will be easier to see clearly the role which thought plays in human\naction. As Hegel rightly says, \"It is thought which turns the soul,\ncommon to us and animals, into spirit.\" Hence it is thought which we\nmay expect to give to human action its characteristic stamp.\n\nI do not mean to imply that all our actions spring only from the sober\ndeliberations of our reason. I am very far from calling only those\nactions \"human\" in the highest sense, which proceed from abstract\njudgments. But as soon as our conduct rises above the sphere of the\nsatisfaction of purely animal desires, our motives are always shaped by\nthoughts. Love, pity, and patriotism are motives of action which cannot\nbe analysed away into cold concepts of the understanding. It is said\nthat here the heart, the soul, hold sway. This is no doubt true. But\nthe heart and the soul create no motives. They presuppose them. Pity\nenters my heart when the thought of a person who arouses pity had\nappeared in my consciousness. The way to the heart is through the\nhead. Love is no exception. Whenever it is not merely the expression\nof bare sexual instinct, it depends on the thoughts we form of the\nloved one. And the more we idealise the loved one in our thoughts,\nthe more blessed is our love. Here, too, thought is the father of\nfeeling. It is said that love makes us blind to the failings of the\nloved one. But the opposite view can be taken, namely that it is\nprecisely for the good points that love opens the eyes. Many pass\nby these good points without notice. One, however, perceives them,\nand just because he does, love awakens in his soul. What else has he\ndone except perceive what hundreds have failed to see? Love is not\ntheirs, because they lack the perception.\n\nFrom whatever point we regard the subject, it becomes more and more\nclear that the question of the nature of human action presupposes\nthat of the origin of thought. I shall, therefore, turn next to\nthis question.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nWHY THE DESIRE FOR KNOWLEDGE IS FUNDAMENTAL\n\n\n                            Zwei Seelen wohnen, ach! in meiner Brust,\n                            Die eine will sich von der andern trennen;\n                            Die eine h\u00e4lt, in derber Liebeslust,\n                            Sich an die Welt mit klammernden Organen;\n                            Die andre hebt gewaltsam sich vom Dust\n                            Zu den Gefilden hoher Ahnen. [1]\n\n                                                     Faust I, 1112-1117.\n\n\nIn these words Goethe expresses a trait which is deeply ingrained\nin human nature. Man is not a self-contained unity. He demands ever\nmore than the world, of itself, offers him. Nature has endowed\nus with needs; among them are some the satisfaction of which she\nleaves to our own activity. However abundant the gifts which we\nhave received, still more abundant are our desires. We seem born\nto dissatisfaction. And our desire for knowledge is but a special\ninstance of this unsatisfied striving. Suppose we look twice at a\ntree. The first time we see its branches at rest, the second time\nin motion. We are not satisfied with this observation. Why, we ask,\ndoes the tree appear to us now at rest, then in motion? Every glance\nat nature evokes in us a multitude of questions. Every phenomenon\nwe meet presents a new problem to be solved. Every experience is to\nus a riddle. We observe that from the egg there emerges a creature\nlike the mother animal, and we ask for the reason of the likeness. We\nobserve a living being grow and develop to a determinate degree of\nperfection, and we seek the conditions of this experience. Nowhere\nare we satisfied with the facts which nature spreads out before our\nsenses. Everywhere we seek what we call the explanation of these facts.\n\nThe something more which we seek in things, over and above what is\nimmediately given to us in them, splits our whole being into two\nparts. We become conscious of our opposition to the world. We oppose\nourselves to the world as independent beings. The universe has for\nus two opposite poles: Self and World.\n\nWe erect this barrier between ourselves and the world as soon as\nconsciousness is first kindled in us. But we never cease to feel that,\nin spite of all, we belong to the world, that there is a connecting\nlink between it and us, and that we are beings within, and not without,\nthe universe.\n\nThis feeling makes us strive to bridge over this opposition,\nand ultimately the whole spiritual striving of mankind is nothing\nbut the bridging of this opposition. The history of our spiritual\nlife is a continuous seeking after union between ourselves and the\nworld. Religion, Art, and Science follow, one and all, this goal. The\nreligious man seeks in the revelation, which God grants him, the\nsolution of the world problem, which his Self, dissatisfied with\nthe world of mere phenomena, sets him as a task. The artist seeks to\nembody in his material the ideas which are his Self, that he may thus\nreconcile the spirit which lives within him and the outer world. He,\ntoo, feels dissatisfied with the world of mere appearances, and\nseeks to mould into it that something more which his Self supplies\nand which transcends appearances. The thinker searches for the laws\nof phenomena. He strives to master by thought what he experiences\nby observation. Only when we have transformed the world-content\ninto our thought-content do we recapture the connection which we\nhad ourselves broken off. We shall see later that this goal can be\nreached only if we penetrate much more deeply than is often done into\nthe nature of the scientist's problem. The whole situation, as I have\nhere stated it, meets us, on the stage of history, in the conflict\nbetween the one-world theory, or Monism, and the two-world theory,\nor Dualism. Dualism pays attention only to the separation between\nthe Self and the World, which the consciousness of man has brought\nabout. All its efforts consist in a vain struggle to reconcile these\nopposites, which it calls now Mind and Matter, now Subject and Object,\nnow Thought and Appearance. The Dualist feels that there must be\na bridge between the two worlds, but is not able to find it. In so\nfar as man is aware of himself as \"I,\" he cannot but put down this\n\"I\" in thought on the side of Spirit; and in opposing to this \"I\"\nthe world, he is bound to reckon on the world's side the realm of\npercepts given to the senses, i.e., the Material World. In doing so,\nman assigns a position to himself within this very antithesis of\nSpirit and Matter. He is the more compelled to do so because his own\nbody belongs to the Material World. Thus the \"I,\" or Ego, belongs as a\npart to the realm of Spirit; the material objects and processes which\nare perceived by the senses belong to the \"World.\" All the riddles\nwhich belong to Spirit and Matter, man must inevitably rediscover in\nthe fundamental riddle of his own nature. Monism pays attention only\nto the unity and tries either to deny or to slur over the opposites,\npresent though they are. Neither of these two points of view can\nsatisfy us, for they do not do justice to the facts. The Dualist\nsees in Mind (Self) and Matter (World) two essentially different\nentities, and cannot therefore understand how they can interact with\none another. How should Mind be aware of what goes on in Matter,\nseeing that the essential nature of Matter is quite alien to Mind? Or\nhow in these circumstances should Mind act upon Matter, so as to\ntranslate its intentions into actions? The most absurd hypotheses\nhave been propounded to answer these questions. However, up to the\npresent the Monists are not in a much better position. They have tried\nthree different ways of meeting the difficulty. Either they deny Mind\nand become Materialists; or they deny Matter in order to seek their\nsalvation as Spiritualists; or they assert that, even in the simplest\nentities in the world, Mind and Matter are indissolubly bound together,\nso that there is no need to marvel at the appearance in man of these\ntwo modes of existence, seeing that they are never found apart.\n\nMaterialism can never offer a satisfactory explanation of the\nworld. For every attempt at an explanation must begin with the\nformation of thoughts about the phenomena of the world. Materialism,\nthus, begins with the thought of Matter or material processes. But,\nin doing so, it is ipso facto confronted by two different sets\nof facts, viz., the material world and the thoughts about it. The\nMaterialist seeks to make these latter intelligible by regarding them\nas purely material processes. He believes that thinking takes place\nin the brain, much in the same way that digestion takes place in the\nanimal organs. Just as he ascribes mechanical, chemical, and organic\nprocesses to Nature, so he credits her in certain circumstances\nwith the capacity to think. He overlooks that, in doing so, he is\nmerely shifting the problem from one place to another. Instead of\nto himself he ascribes the power of thought to Matter. And thus he\nis back again at his starting-point. How does Matter come to think\nof its own nature? Why is it not simply satisfied with itself and\ncontent to accept its own existence? The Materialist has turned his\nattention away from the definite subject, his own self, and occupies\nhimself with an indefinite shadowy somewhat. And here the old problem\nmeets him again. The materialistic theory cannot solve the problem;\nit can only shift it to another place.\n\nWhat of the Spiritualistic theory? The pure Spiritualist denies to\nMatter all independent existence and regards it merely as a product\nof Spirit. But when he tries to apply this theory to the solution\nof the riddle of his own human nature, he finds himself caught in a\ntight place. Over against the \"I,\" or Ego, which can be ranged on the\nside of Spirit, there stands directly the world of the senses. No\nspiritual approach to it seems open. It has to be perceived and\nexperienced by the Ego with the help of material processes. Such\nmaterial processes the Ego does not discover in itself, so long as\nit regards its own nature as exclusively spiritual. From all that\nit achieves by its own spiritual effort, the sensible world is ever\nexcluded. It seems as if the Ego had to concede that the world would\nbe a closed book to it, unless it could establish a non-spiritual\nrelation to the world. Similarly, when it comes to acting, we have\nto translate our purposes into realities with the help of material\nthings and forces. We are, therefore, dependent on the outer world. The\nmost extreme Spiritualist, or, if you prefer it, Idealist, is Johann\nGottlieb Fichte. He attempts to deduce the whole edifice of the world\nfrom the \"Ego.\" What he has actually accomplished is a magnificent\nthought-picture of the world, without any empirical content. As little\nas it is possible for the Materialist to argue the Mind away, just\nas little is it possible for the Idealist to do without the outer\nworld of Matter.\n\nWhen man directs his theoretical reflection upon the Ego, he perceives,\nin the first instance, only the work of the Ego in the conceptual\nelaboration of the world of ideas. Hence a philosophy the direction\nof which is spiritualistic, may feel tempted, in view of man's own\nessential nature, to acknowledge nothing of spirit except this world\nof ideas. In this way Spiritualism becomes one-sided Idealism. Instead\nof going on to penetrate through the world of ideas to the spiritual\nworld, idealism identifies the spiritual world with the world of\nideas itself. As a result, it is compelled to remain fixed with its\nworld-view in the circle of the activity of the Ego, as if it were\nbewitched.\n\nA curious variant of Idealism is to be found in the theory\nwhich F. A. Lange has put forward in his widely read History of\nMaterialism. He holds that the Materialists are quite right in\ndeclaring all phenomena, including our thoughts, to be the product\nof purely material processes, but, in turn, Matter and its processes\nare for him themselves the product of our thinking. \"The senses give\nus only the effects of things, not true copies, much less the things\nthemselves. But among these mere effects we must include the senses\nthemselves together with the brain and the molecular vibrations which\nwe assume to go on there.\" That is, our thinking is produced by the\nmaterial processes, and these by our thinking. Lange's philosophy\nis thus nothing more than the philosophical analogon of the story\nof honest Baron M\u00fcnchhausen, who holds himself up in the air by his\nown pigtail.\n\nThe third form of Monism is that which finds even in the simplest real\n(the atom) the union of both Matter and Mind. But nothing is gained by\nthis either, except that the question, the origin of which is really\nin our consciousness, is shifted to another place. How comes it that\nthe simple real manifests itself in a two-fold manner, if it is an\nindivisible unity?\n\nAgainst all these theories we must urge the fact that we meet with the\nbasal and fundamental opposition first in our own consciousness. It\nis we ourselves who break away from the bosom of Nature and contrast\nourselves as Self with the World. Goethe has given classic expression\nto this in his essay Nature. \"Living in the midst of her (Nature)\nwe are strangers to her. Ceaselessly she speaks to us, yet betrays\nnone of her secrets.\" But Goethe knows the reverse side too: \"Mankind\nis all in her, and she in all mankind.\"\n\nHowever true it may be that we have estranged ourselves from Nature,\nit is none the less true that we feel we are in her and belong to\nher. It can be only her own life which pulses also in us.\n\nWe must find the way back to her again. A simple reflection may\npoint this way out to us. We have, it is true, torn ourselves away\nfrom Nature, but we must none the less have carried away something of\nher in our own selves. This quality of Nature in us we must seek out,\nand then we shall discover our connection with her once more. Dualism\nneglects to do this. It considers the human mind as a spiritual\nentity utterly alien to Nature and attempts somehow to hitch it on to\nNature. No wonder that it cannot find the coupling link. We can find\nNature outside of us only if we have first learnt to know her within\nus. The Natural within us must be our guide to her. This marks out\nour path of inquiry. We shall attempt no speculations concerning the\ninteraction of Mind and Matter. We shall rather probe into the depths\nof our own being, to find there those elements which we saved in our\nflight from Nature.\n\nThe examination of our own being must bring the solution of the\nproblem. We must reach a point where we can say, \"This is no longer\nmerely 'I,' this is something which is more than 'I.'\"\n\nI am well aware that many who have read thus far will not consider\nmy discussion in keeping with \"the present state of science.\" To such\ncriticism I can reply only that I have so far not been concerned with\nany scientific results, but simply with the description of what every\none of us experiences in his own consciousness. That a few phrases\nhave slipped in about attempts to reconcile Mind and the World has\nbeen due solely to the desire to elucidate the actual facts. I have\ntherefore made no attempt to give to the expressions \"Self,\" \"Mind,\"\n\"World,\" \"Nature,\" the precise meaning which they usually bear in\nPsychology and Philosophy. The ordinary consciousness ignores the sharp\ndistinctions of the sciences, and so far my purpose has been solely\nto record the facts of everyday experience. I am concerned, not with\nthe way in which science, so far, has interpreted consciousness, but\nwith the way in which we experience it in every moment of our lives.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHOUGHT AS THE INSTRUMENT OF KNOWLEDGE\n\n\nWhen I observe how a billiard ball, when struck, communicates its\nmotion to another, I remain entirely without influence on the process\nbefore me. The direction and velocity of the motion of the second ball\nis determined by the direction and velocity of the first. As long as\nI remain a mere spectator, I can say nothing about the motion of the\nsecond ball until after it has happened. It is quite different when\nI begin to reflect on the content of my observations. The purpose of\nmy reflection is to construct concepts of the process. I connect the\nconcept of an elastic ball with certain other concepts of mechanics,\nand consider the special circumstances which obtain in the instance\nin question. I try, in other words, to add to the process which takes\nplace without my interference, a second process which takes place in\nthe conceptual sphere. This latter process is dependent on me. This\nis shown by the fact that I can rest content with the observation,\nand renounce all search for concepts if I have no need of them. If,\ntherefore, this need is present, then I am not content until I\nhave established a definite connection among the concepts, ball,\nelasticity, motion, impact, velocity, etc., so that they apply to the\nobserved process in a definite way. As surely as the occurrence of\nthe observed process is independent of me, so surely is the occurrence\nof the conceptual process dependent on me.\n\nWe shall have to consider later whether this activity of mine\nreally proceeds from my own independent being, or whether those\nmodern physiologists are right who say that we cannot think\nas we will, but that we must think exactly as the thoughts and\nthought-connections determine, which happen to be in our minds at any\ngiven moment. (Cp. Ziehen, Leitfaden der Physiologischen Psychologie,\nJena, 1893, p. 171.) For the present we wish merely to establish\nthe fact that we constantly feel obliged to seek for concepts and\nconnections of concepts, which stand in definite relation to the\nobjects and processes which are given independently of us. Whether\nthis activity is really ours, or whether we are determined to it by\nan unalterable necessity, is a question which we need not decide at\npresent. What is unquestionable is that the activity appears, in the\nfirst instance, to be ours. We know for certain that concepts are not\ngiven together with the objects to which they correspond. My being\nthe agent in the conceptual process may be an illusion; but there\nis no doubt that to immediate observation I appear to be active. Our\npresent question is, what do we gain by supplementing a process with\na conceptual counterpart?\n\nThere is a far-reaching difference between the ways in which, for\nme, the parts of a process are related to one another before, and\nafter, the discovery of the corresponding concepts. Mere observation\ncan trace the parts of a given process as they occur, but their\nconnection remains obscure without the help of concepts. I observe the\nfirst billiard ball move towards the second in a certain direction\nand with a certain velocity. What will happen after the impact I\ncannot tell in advance. I can once more only watch it happen with\nmy eyes. Suppose someone obstructs my view of the field where the\nprocess is happening, at the moment when the impact occurs, then,\nas mere spectator, I remain ignorant of what goes on. The situation\nis very different, if prior to the obstructing of my view I have\ndiscovered the concepts corresponding to the nexus of events. In\nthat case I can say what occurs, even when I am no longer able to\nobserve. There is nothing in a merely observed process or object\nto show its relation to other processes or objects. This relation\nbecomes manifest only when observation is combined with thought.\n\nObservation and thought are the two points of departure for all\nthe spiritual striving of man, in so far as he is conscious of such\nstriving. The workings of common sense, as well as the most complicated\nscientific researches, rest on these two fundamental pillars of our\nminds. Philosophers have started from various ultimate antitheses, Idea\nand Reality, Subject and Object, Appearance and Thing-in-itself, Ego\nand Non-Ego, Idea and Will, Concept and Matter, Force and Substance,\nthe Conscious and the Unconscious. It is, however, easy to show that\nall these antitheses are subsequent to that between Observation and\nThought, this being for man the most important.\n\nWhatever principle we choose to lay down, we must either prove that\nsomewhere we have observed it, or we must enunciate it in the form of\na clear concept which can be re-thought by any other thinker. Every\nphilosopher who sets out to discuss his fundamental principles, must\nexpress them in conceptual form and thus use thought. He therefore\nindirectly admits that his activity presupposes thought. We leave\nopen here the question whether thought or something else is the\nchief factor in the development of the world. But it is at any rate\nclear that the philosopher can gain no knowledge of this development\nwithout thought. In the occurrence of phenomena thought may play a\nsecondary part, but it is quite certain that it plays a chief part\nin the construction of a theory about them.\n\nAs regards observation, our need of it is due to our organisation. Our\nthought about a horse and the object \"horse\" are two things which for\nus have separate existences. The object is accessible to us only by\nmeans of observation. As little as we can construct a concept of a\nhorse by mere staring at the animal, just as little are we able by\nmere thought to produce the corresponding object.\n\nIn time observation actually precedes thought. For we become familiar\nwith thought itself in the first instance by observation. It was\nessentially a description of an observation when, at the beginning\nof this chapter, we gave an account of how thought is kindled by an\nobjective process and transcends the merely given. Whatever enters\nthe circle of our experiences becomes an object of apprehension\nto us first through observation. All contents of sensations, all\nperceptions, intuitions, feelings, acts of will, dreams and fancies,\nimages, concepts, ideas, all illusions and hallucinations, are given\nto us through observation.\n\nBut thought as an object of observation differs essentially from all\nother objects. The observation of a table, or a tree, occurs in me\nas soon as those objects appear within the horizon of my field of\nconsciousness. Yet I do not, at the same time, observe my thought\nabout these things. I observe the table, but I carry on a process of\nthought about the table without at the same moment observing this\nthought-process. I must first take up a standpoint outside of my\nown activity, if I want to observe my thought about the table, as\nwell as the table. Whereas the observation of things and processes,\nand the thinking about them, are everyday occurrences making up the\ncontinuous current of my life, the observation of the thought-process\nitself is an exceptional attitude to adopt. This fact must be taken\ninto account, when we come to determine the relations of thought\nas an object of observation to all other objects. We must be quite\nclear about the fact that, in observing the thought-processes, we are\napplying to them a method which is our normal attitude in the study\nof all other objects in the world, but which in the ordinary course\nof that study is usually not applied to thought itself.\n\nSomeone might object that what I have said about thinking applies\nequally to feeling and to all other mental activities. Thus it is said\nthat when, e.g., I have a feeling of pleasure, the feeling is kindled\nby the object, but it is this object I observe, not the feeling of\npleasure. This objection, however, is based on an error. Pleasure does\nnot stand at all in the same relation to its object as the concept\nconstructed by thought. I am conscious, in the most positive way, that\nthe concept of a thing is formed through my activity; whereas a feeling\nof pleasure is produced in me by an object in a way similar to that in\nwhich, e.g., a change is caused in an object by a stone which falls on\nit. For observation, a pleasure is given in exactly the same way as the\nevent which causes it. The same is not true of concepts. I can ask why\nan event arouses in me a feeling of pleasure. But I certainly cannot\nask why an occurrence causes in me a certain number of concepts. The\nquestion would be simply meaningless. In thinking about an occurrence,\nI am not concerned with it as an effect on me. I learn nothing about\nmyself from knowing the concepts which correspond to the observed\nchange caused in a pane of glass by a stone thrown against it. But I do\nlearn something about myself when I know the feeling which a certain\noccurrence arouses in me. When I say of an object which I perceive,\n\"this is a rose,\" I say absolutely nothing about myself; but when I\nsay of the same thing that \"it causes a feeling of pleasure in me,\"\nI characterise not only the rose, but also myself in my relation to\nthe rose.\n\nThere can, therefore, be no question of putting thought and feeling on\na level as objects of observation. And the same could easily be shown\nof other activities of the human mind. Unlike thought, they must be\nclassed with any other observed objects or events. The peculiar nature\nof thought lies just in this, that it is an activity which is directed\nsolely on the observed object and not on the thinking subject. This\nis apparent even from the way in which we express our thoughts about\nan object, as distinct from our feelings or acts of will. When I\nsee an object and recognise it as a table, I do not as a rule say,\n\"I am thinking of a table,\" but, \"this is a table.\" On the other\nhand, I do say, \"I am pleased with the table.\" In the former case,\nI am not at all interested in stating that I have entered into a\nrelation with the table; whereas, in the second case, it is just\nthis relation which matters. In saying, \"I am thinking of a table,\"\nI adopt the exceptional point of view characterised above, in which\nsomething is made the object of observation which is always present in\nour mental activity, without being itself normally an observed object.\n\nThe peculiar nature of thought consists just in this, that the thinker\nforgets his thinking while actually engaged in it. It is not thinking\nwhich occupies his attention, but rather the object of thought which\nhe observes.\n\nThe first point, then, to notice about thought is that it is the\nunobserved element in our ordinary mental life.\n\nThe reason why we do not notice the thinking which goes on in our\nordinary mental life is no other than this, that it is our own\nactivity. Whatever I do not myself produce appears in my field of\nconsciousness as an object; I contrast it with myself as something the\nexistence of which is independent of me. It forces itself upon me. I\nmust accept it as the presupposition of my thinking. As long as I think\nabout the object, I am absorbed in it, my attention is turned on it. To\nbe thus absorbed in the object is just to contemplate it by thought. I\nattend, not to my activity, but to its object. In other words, whilst\nI am thinking I pay no heed to my thinking which is of my own making,\nbut only to the object of my thinking which is not of my making.\n\nI am, moreover, in exactly the same position when I adopt the\nexceptional point of view and think of my own thought-processes. I can\nnever observe my present thought, I can only make my past experiences\nof thought-processes subsequently the objects of fresh thoughts. If\nI wanted to watch my present thought, I should have to split myself\ninto two persons, one to think, the other to observe this thinking. But\nthis is impossible. I can only accomplish it in two separate acts. The\nobserved thought-processes are never those in which I am actually\nengaged but others. Whether, for this purpose, I make observations\non my own former thoughts, or follow the thought-processes of another\nperson, or finally, as in the example of the motions of the billiard\nballs, assume an imaginary thought-process, is immaterial.\n\nThere are two things which are incompatible with one another:\nproductive activity and the theoretical contemplation of that\nactivity. This is recognised even in the First Book of Moses. It\nrepresents God as creating the world in the first six days, and only\nafter its completion is any contemplation of the world possible:\n\"And God saw everything that he had made and, behold, it was very\ngood.\" The same applies to our thinking. It must be there first,\nif we would observe it.\n\nThe reason why it is impossible to observe the thought-process\nin its actual occurrence at any given moment, is the same as that\nwhich makes it possible for us to know it more immediately and more\nintimately than any other process in the world. Just because it is\nour own creation do we know the characteristic features of its course,\nthe manner in which the process, in detail, takes place. What in the\nother spheres of observation we can discover only indirectly, viz.,\nthe relevant objective nexus and the relations of the individual\nobjects, that is known to us immediately in the case of thought. I\ndo not know off-hand why, for perception, thunder follows lightning,\nbut I know immediately, from the content of the two concepts, why my\nthought connects the concept of thunder with that of lightning. It\ndoes not matter for my argument whether my concepts of thunder and\nlightning are correct. The connection between the concepts I have is\nclear to me, and that through the very concepts themselves.\n\nThis transparent clearness in the observation of our thought-processes\nis quite independent of our knowledge of the physiological basis of\nthought. I am speaking here of thought in the sense in which it is the\nobject of our observation of our own mental activity. For this purpose\nit is quite irrelevant how one material process in my brain causes or\ninfluences another, whilst I am carrying on a process of thought. What\nI observe, in studying a thought-process, is, not what process in\nmy brain connects the concept of thunder with that of lightning,\nbut what is my reason for bringing these two concepts into a definite\nrelation. Introspection shows that, in linking thought with thought,\nI am guided by their content, not by the material processes in the\nbrain. This remark would be quite superfluous in a less materialistic\nage than ours. To-day, however, when there are people who believe that,\nwhen we know what matter is, we shall know also how it thinks, it is\nnecessary to affirm the possibility of speaking of thought without\ntrespassing on the domain of brain physiology. Many people to-day find\nit difficult to grasp the concept of thought in its purity. Anyone who\nchallenges the account of thought which I have given here, by quoting\nCabanis' statement that \"the brain secretes thoughts as the liver does\ngall or the spittle-glands spittle, etc.\" simply does not know of what\nI am talking. He attempts to discover thought by the same method of\nmere observation which we apply to the other objects that make up the\nworld. But he cannot find it in this way, because, as I have shown,\nit eludes just this ordinary observation. Whoever cannot transcend\nMaterialism lacks the ability to throw himself into the exceptional\nattitude I have described, in which he becomes conscious of what in\nall other mental activity remains unconscious. It is as useless to\ndiscuss thought with one who is not willing to adopt this attitude, as\nit would be to discuss colour with a blind man. Let him not imagine,\nhowever, that we regard physiological processes as thought. He fails\nto explain thought, because he is not even aware that it is there.\n\nFor every one, however, who has the ability to observe thought, and\nwith good will every normal man has this ability, this observation\nis the most important he can make. For he observes something which\nhe himself produces. He is not confronted by what is to begin with\na strange object, but by his own activity. He knows how that which\nhe observes has come to be. He perceives clearly its connections and\nrelations. He gains a firm point from which he can, with well-founded\nhopes, seek an explanation of the other phenomena of the world.\n\nThe feeling that he had found such a firm foundation, induced the\nfather of modern philosophy, Descartes, to base the whole of human\nknowledge on the principle, \"I think, therefore I am.\" All other\nthings, all other processes, are independent of me. Whether they be\ntruth, or illusion, or dream, I know not. There is only one thing\nof which I am absolutely certain, for I myself am the author of its\nindubitable existence; and that is my thought. Whatever other origin\nit may have in addition, whether it come from God or from elsewhere,\nof one thing I am sure, that it exists in the sense that I myself\nproduce it. Descartes had, to begin with, no justification for reading\nany other meaning into his principle. All he had a right to assert\nwas that, in apprehending myself as thinking, I apprehend myself,\nwithin the world-system, in that activity which is most uniquely\ncharacteristic of me. What the added words \"therefore I am\" are\nintended to mean has been much debated. They can have a meaning on\none condition only. The simplest assertion I can make of a thing is,\nthat it is, that it exists. What kind of existence, in detail, it has,\ncan in no case be determined on the spot, as soon as the thing enters\nwithin the horizon of my experience. Each object must be studied in\nits relations to others, before we can determine the sense in which we\ncan speak of its existence. An experienced process may be a complex\nof percepts, or it may be a dream, an hallucination, etc. In short,\nI cannot say in what sense it exists. I can never read off the kind of\nexistence from the process itself, for I can discover it only when I\nconsider the process in its relation to other things. But this, again,\nyields me no knowledge beyond just its relation to other things. My\ninquiry touches firm ground only when I find an object, the reason\nof the existence of which I can gather from itself. Such an object\nI am myself in so far as I think, for I qualify my existence by the\ndeterminate and self-contained content of my thought-activity. From\nhere I can go on to ask whether other things exist in the same or in\nsome other sense.\n\nWhen thought is made an object of observation, something which\nusually escapes our attention is added to the other observed\ncontents of the world. But the usual manner of observation, such as\nis employed also for other objects, is in no way altered. We add\nto the number of objects of observation, but not to the number of\nmethods. When we are observing other things, there enters among the\nworld-processes--among which I now include observation--one process\nwhich is overlooked. There is present something different from every\nother kind of process, something which is not taken into account. But\nwhen I make an object of my own thinking, there is no such neglected\nelement present. For what lurks now in the background is just thought\nitself over again. The object of observation is qualitatively identical\nwith the activity directed upon it. This is another characteristic\nfeature of thought-processes. When we make them objects of observation,\nwe are not compelled to do so with the help of something qualitatively\ndifferent, but can remain within the realm of thought.\n\nWhen I weave a tissue of thoughts round an independently given object,\nI transcend my observation, and the question then arises, What right\nhave I to do this? Why do I not passively let the object impress itself\non me? How is it possible for my thought to be relevantly related to\nthe object? These are questions which every one must put to himself\nwho reflects on his own thought-processes. But all these questions\nlapse when we think about thought itself. We then add nothing to our\nthought that is foreign to it, and therefore have no need to justify\nany such addition.\n\nSchelling says: \"To know Nature means to create Nature.\" If we take\nthese words of the daring philosopher of Nature literally, we shall\nhave to renounce for ever all hope of gaining knowledge of Nature. For\nNature after all exists, and if we have to create it over again, we\nmust know the principles according to which it has originated in the\nfirst instance. We should have to borrow from Nature as it exists\nthe conditions of existence for the Nature which we are about to\ncreate. But this borrowing, which would have to precede the creating,\nwould be a knowing of Nature, and would be this even if after the\nborrowing no creation at all were attempted. The only kind of Nature\nwhich it would be possible to create without previous knowledge,\nwould be a Nature different from the existing one.\n\nWhat is impossible with Nature, viz., creation prior to knowledge, that\nwe accomplish in the act of thought. Were we to refrain from thinking\nuntil we had first gained knowledge of it, we should never think at\nall. We must resolutely think straight ahead, and then afterwards by\nintrospective analysis gain knowledge of our own processes. Thus we\nourselves create the thought-processes which we then make objects of\nobservation. The existence of all other objects is provided for us\nwithout any activity on our part.\n\nMy contention that we must think before we can make thought an\nobject of knowledge, might easily be countered by the apparently\nequally valid contention that we cannot wait with digesting until we\nhave first observed the process of digestion. This objection would\nbe similar to that brought by Pascal against Descartes, when he\nasserted we might also say \"I walk, therefore I am.\" Certainly I must\ndigest resolutely and not wait until I have studied the physiological\nprocess of digestion. But I could only compare this with the analysis\nof thought if, after digestion, I set myself not to analyse it by\nthought, but to eat and digest it. It is not without reason that,\nwhile digestion cannot become the object of digestion, thought can\nvery well become the object of thought.\n\nThis then is indisputable, that in thinking we have got hold of one\nbit of the world-process which requires our presence if anything is\nto happen. And that is the very point that matters. The very reason\nwhy things seem so puzzling is just that I play no part in their\nproduction. They are simply given to me, whereas I know how thought\nis produced. Hence there can be no more fundamental starting-point\nthan thought from which to regard all world-processes.\n\nI should like still to mention a widely current error which prevails\nwith regard to thought. It is often said that thought, in its real\nnature, is never experienced. The thought-processes which connect\nour perceptions with one another, and weave about them a network\nof concepts, are not at all the same as those which our analysis\nafterwards extracts from the objects of perception, in order to make\nthem the object of study. What we have unconsciously woven into things\nis, so we are told, something widely different from what subsequent\nanalysis recovers out of them.\n\nThose who hold this view do not see that it is impossible to escape\nfrom thought. I cannot get outside thought when I want to observe\nit. We should never forget that the distinction between thought which\ngoes on unconsciously and thought which is consciously analysed, is a\npurely external one and irrelevant to our discussion. I do not in any\nway alter a thing by making it an object of thought. I can well imagine\nthat a being with quite different sense-organs, and with a differently\nconstructed intelligence, would have a very different idea of a horse\nfrom mine, but I cannot think that my own thought becomes different\nbecause I make it an object of knowledge. I myself observe my own\nprocesses. We are not talking here of how my thought-processes appear\nto an intelligence different from mine, but how they appear to me. In\nany case, the idea which another mind forms of my thought cannot be\ntruer than the one which I form myself. Only if the thought-processes\nwere not my own, but the activity of a being quite different from me,\ncould I maintain that, notwithstanding my forming a definite idea of\nthese thought-processes, their real nature was beyond my comprehension.\n\nSo far, there is not the slightest reason why I should regard my\nthought from any other point of view than my own. I contemplate the\nrest of the world by means of thought. How should I make of my thought\nan exception?\n\nI think I have given sufficient reasons for making thought the\nstarting-point for my theory of the world. When Archimedes had\ndiscovered the lever, he thought he could lift the whole cosmos\nout of its hinges, if only he could find a point of support for his\ninstrument. He needed a point which was self-supporting. In thought\nwe have a principle which is self-subsisting. Let us try, therefore,\nto understand the world starting with thought as our basis. Thought\ncan be grasped by thought. The question is whether by thought we can\nalso grasp something other than thought.\n\nI have so far spoken of thought without taking any account of its\nvehicle, the human consciousness. Most present-day philosophers\nwould object that, before there can be thought, there must be\nconsciousness. Hence we ought to start, not from thought, but from\nconsciousness. There is no thought, they say without consciousness. In\nreply I would urge that, in order to clear up the relation between\nthought and consciousness, I must think about it. Hence I presuppose\nthought. One might, it is true, retort that, though a philosopher who\nwishes to understand consciousness, naturally makes use of thought,\nand so far presupposes it, in the ordinary course of life thought\narises within consciousness and therefore presupposes that. Were this\nanswer given to the world-creator, when he was about to create thought,\nit would, without doubt, be to the point. Thought cannot, of course,\ncome into being before consciousness. The philosopher, however, is not\nconcerned with the creation of the world, but with the understanding\nof it. Hence he is in search of the starting-point, not for creation,\nbut for the understanding of the world. It seems to me very strange\nthat philosophers are reproached for troubling themselves, above all,\nabout the correctness of their principles, instead of turning straight\nto the objects which they seek to understand. The world-creator had\nabove all to know how to find a vehicle for thought; the philosopher\nmust seek a firm basis for the understanding of what is given. What\ndoes it help us to start with consciousness and make it an object of\nthought, if we have not first inquired how far it is possible at all\nto gain any knowledge of things by thought?\n\nWe must first consider thought quite impartially without relation to a\nthinking subject or to an object of thought. For subject and object are\nboth concepts constructed by thought. There is no denying that thought\nmust be understood before anything else can be understood. Whoever\ndenies this, fails to realise that man is not the first link in the\nchain of creation but the last. Hence, in order to explain the world\nby means of concepts, we cannot start from the elements of existence\nwhich came first in time, but we must begin with those which are\nnearest and most intimately connected with us. We cannot, with a leap,\ntransport ourselves to the beginning of the world, in order to begin\nour analysis there, but we must start from the present and see whether\nwe cannot advance from the later to the earlier. As long as Geology\nfabled fantastic revolutions to account for the present state of the\nearth, it groped in darkness. It was only when it began to study the\nprocesses at present at work on the earth, and from these to argue back\nto the past, that it gained a firm foundation. As long as Philosophy\nassumes all sorts of principles, such as atom, motion, matter, will,\nthe unconscious, it will hang in the air. The philosopher can reach\nhis goal only if he adopts that which is last in time as first in\nhis theory. This absolutely last in the world-process is thought.\n\nThere are people who say it is impossible to ascertain with certainty\nwhether thought is right or wrong, and that, so far, our starting-point\nis a doubtful one. It would be just as intelligent to raise doubts as\nto whether a tree is in itself right or wrong. Thought is a fact, and\nit is meaningless to speak of the truth or falsity of a fact. I can,\nat most, be in doubt as to whether thought is rightly employed, just as\nI can doubt whether a certain tree supplies wood adapted to the making\nof this or that useful object. It is just the purpose of this book\nto show how far the application of thought to the world is right or\nwrong. I can understand anyone doubting whether, by means of thought,\nwe can gain any knowledge of the world, but it is unintelligible to\nme how anyone can doubt that thought in itself is right.\n\n\n\n\nADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nIn the preceding discussion I have pointed out the importance of the\ndifference between thinking and all other activities of mind. This\ndifference is a fact which is patent to genuinely unprejudiced\nobservation. An observer who does not try to see the facts without\npreconception will be tempted to bring against my argumentation such\nobjections as these: When I think about a rose, there is involved\nnothing more than a relation of my \"I\" to the rose, just as when I\nfeel the beauty of the rose. There subsists a relation between \"I\"\nand object in thinking precisely as there does, e.g., in feeling\nor perceiving. Those who urge this objection fail to bear in mind\nthat it is only in the activity of thinking that the \"I,\" or Ego,\nknows itself to be identical, right into all the ramifications of the\nactivity, with that which does the thinking. Of no other activity of\nmind can we say the same. For example, in a feeling of pleasure it is\neasy for a really careful observer to discriminate between the extent\nto which the Ego knows itself to be identical with what is active in\nthe feeling, and the extent to which there is something passive in\nthe Ego, so that the pleasure is merely something which happens to\nthe Ego. The same applies to the other mental activities. The main\nthing is not to confuse the \"having of images\" with the elaboration\nof ideas by thinking. Images may appear in the mind dream-wise,\nlike vague intimations. But this is not thinking. True, someone\nmight now urge: If this is what you mean by \"thinking,\" then your\nthinking contains willing, and you have to do, not with mere thinking,\nbut with the will to think. However, this would justify us only in\nsaying: Genuine thinking must always be willed thinking. But this\nis quite irrelevant to the characterisation of thinking as this has\nbeen given in the preceding discussion. Let it be granted that the\nnature of thinking necessarily implies its being willed, the point\nwhich matters is that nothing is willed which, in being carried out,\nfails to appear to the Ego as an activity completely its own and\nunder its own supervision. Indeed, we must say that thinking appears\nto the observer as through and through willed, precisely because of\nits nature as above defined. If we genuinely try to master all the\nfacts which are relevant to a judgment about the nature of thinking,\nwe cannot fail to observe that, as a mental activity, thinking has\nthe unique character which is here in question.\n\nA reader of whose powers the author of this book has a very high\nopinion, has objected that it is impossible to speak about thinking\nas we are here doing, because the supposed observation of active\nthinking is nothing but an illusion. In reality, what is observed is\nonly the results of an unconscious activity which lies at the basis\nof thinking. It is only because, and just because, this unconscious\nactivity escapes observation, that the deceptive appearance of\nthe self-existence of the observed thinking arises, just as when\nan illumination by means of a rapid succession of electric sparks\nmakes us believe that we see a movement. This objection, likewise,\nrests solely on an inaccurate view of the facts. The objection ignores\nthat it is the Ego itself which, identical with the thinking, observes\nfrom within its own activity. The Ego would have to stand outside the\nthinking in order to suffer the sort of deception which is caused\nby an illumination with a rapid succession of electric sparks. One\nmight say rather that to indulge in such an analogy is to deceive\noneself wilfully, just as if someone, seeing a moving light, were\nobstinately to affirm that it is being freshly lit by an unknown\nhand at every point where it appears. No, whoever is bent on seeing\nin thought anything else than an activity produced--and observable\nby--the Ego has first to shut his eyes to the plain facts that are\nthere for the looking, in order then to invent a hypothetical activity\nas the basis of thinking. If he does not wilfully blind himself, he\nmust recognise that all these \"hypothetical additions\" to thinking\ntake him away from its real nature. Unprejudiced observation shows\nthat nothing is to be counted as belonging to the nature of thinking\nexcept what is found in thinking itself. It is impossible to discover\nthe cause of thinking by going outside the realm of thought.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE WORLD AS PERCEPT\n\n\nThe products of thinking are concepts and ideas. What a concept is\ncannot be expressed in words. Words can do no more than draw our\nattention to the fact that we have concepts. When someone perceives\na tree, the perception acts as a stimulus for thought. Thus an ideal\nelement is added to the perceived object, and the perceiver regards\nthe object and its ideal complement as belonging together. When\nthe object disappears from the field of his perception, the\nideal counterpart alone remains. This latter is the concept of\nthe object. The wider the range of our experience, the larger\nbecomes the number of our concepts. Moreover, concepts are not by\nany means found in isolation one from the other. They combine to\nform an ordered and systematic whole. The concept \"organism,\" e.g.,\ncombines with those of \"development according to law,\" \"growth,\" and\nothers. Other concepts based on particular objects fuse completely\nwith one another. All concepts formed from particular lions fuse in\nthe universal concept \"lion.\" In this way, all the separate concepts\ncombine to form a closed, conceptual system within which each has its\nspecial place. Ideas do not differ qualitatively from concepts. They\nare but fuller, more saturated, more comprehensive concepts. I attach\nspecial importance to the necessity of bearing in mind, here, that I\nmake thought my starting-point, and not concepts and ideas which are\nfirst gained by means of thought. These latter presuppose thought. My\nremarks regarding the self-dependent, self-sufficient character of\nthought cannot, therefore, be simply transferred to concepts. (I make\nspecial mention of this, because it is here that I differ from Hegel,\nwho regards the concept as something primary and ultimate.)\n\nConcepts cannot be derived from perception. This is apparent from the\nfact that, as man grows up, he slowly and gradually builds up the\nconcepts corresponding to the objects which surround him. Concepts\nare added to perception.\n\nA philosopher, widely read at the present day (Herbert Spencer),\ndescribes the mental process which we perform upon perception as\nfollows: \"If, when walking through the fields some day in September,\nyou hear a rustle a few yards in advance, and on observing the\nditch-side where it occurs, see the herbage agitated, you will\nprobably turn towards the spot to learn by what this sound and\nmotion are produced. As you approach there flutters into the ditch a\npartridge; on seeing which your curiosity is satisfied--you have what\nyou call an explanation of the appearances. The explanation, mark,\namounts to this--that whereas throughout life you have had countless\nexperiences of disturbance among small stationary bodies, accompanying\nthe movement of other bodies among them, and have generalised the\nrelation between such disturbances and such movements, you consider\nthis particular disturbance explained on finding it to present an\ninstance of the like relation\" (First Principles, Part I, par. 23). A\ncloser analysis leads to a very different description from that here\ngiven. When I hear a noise, my first demand is for the concept which\nfits this percept. Without this concept, the noise is to me a mere\nnoise. Whoever does not reflect further, hears just the noise and\nis satisfied with that. But my thought makes it clear to me that the\nnoise is to be regarded as an effect. Thus it is only when I combine\nthe concept of effect with the percept of a noise that I am led to go\nbeyond the particular percept and seek for its cause. The concept of\n\"effect\" calls up that of \"cause,\" and my next step is to look for\nthe agent, which I find, say, in a partridge. But these concepts,\ncause and effect, can never be gained through mere perception, however\nmany instances we bring under review. Perception evokes thought, and\nit is this which shows me how to link separate experiences together.\n\nIf one demands of a \"strictly objective science\" that it should take\nits data from perception alone, one must demand also that it abandon\nall thought. For thought, by its very nature, transcends the objects\nof perception.\n\nIt is time now to pass from thought to the thinker. For it is\nthrough the thinker that thought and perception are combined. The\nhuman mind is the stage on which concept and percept meet and are\nlinked to one another. In saying this, we already characterise this\n(human) consciousness. It mediates between thought and perception. In\nperception the object appears as given, in thought the mind seems to\nitself to be active. It regards the thing as object and itself as the\nthinking subject. When thought is directed upon the perceptual world\nwe have consciousness of objects; when it is directed upon itself we\nhave self-consciousness. Human consciousness must, of necessity, be\nat the same time self-consciousness, because it is a consciousness\nwhich thinks. For, when thought contemplates its own activity it\nmakes an object for study of its own essential nature, it makes an\nobject of itself as subject.\n\nIt is important to note here that it is only by means of thinking\nthat I am able to determine myself as subject and contrast myself\nwith objects. Therefore thinking must never be regarded as a merely\nsubjective activity. Thinking transcends the distinction of subject\nand object. It produces these two concepts just as it produces all\nothers. When, therefore, I, as thinking subject, refer a concept to\nan object, we must not regard this reference as something purely\nsubjective. It is not the subject, but thought, which makes the\nreference. The subject does not think because it is a subject,\nrather it conceives itself to be a subject because it can think. The\nactivity of consciousness, in so far as it thinks, is thus not\nmerely subjective. Rather it is neither subjective nor objective;\nit transcends both these concepts. I ought never to say that I, as\nan individual subject, think, but rather that I, as subject, exist\nmyself by the grace of thought. Thought thus takes me out of myself\nand relates me to objects. At the same time it separates me from them,\ninasmuch as I, as subject, am set over against the objects.\n\nIt is just this which constitutes the double nature of man. His\nthought embraces himself and the rest of the world. But by this\nsame act of thought he determines himself also as an individual,\nin contrast with the objective world.\n\nWe must next ask ourselves how the other element, which we have so far\nsimply called the perceptual object and which comes, in consciousness,\ninto contact with thought, enters into thought at all?\n\nIn order to answer this question, we must eliminate from the field\nof consciousness everything which has been imported by thought. For,\nat any moment, the content of consciousness is always shot through\nwith concepts in the most various ways.\n\nLet us assume that a being with fully developed human intelligence\noriginated out of nothing and confronted the world. All that it\nthere perceived before its thought began to act would be the pure\ncontent of perception. The world so far would appear to this being as\na mere chaotic aggregate of sense-data, colours, sounds, sensations\nof pressure, of warmth, of taste, of smell, and, lastly, feelings of\npleasure and pain. This mass constitutes the world of pure unthinking\nperception. Over against it stands thought, ready to begin its activity\nas soon as it can find a point of attack. Experience shows that the\nopportunity is not long in coming. Thought is able to draw threads\nfrom one sense-datum to another. It brings definite concepts to bear\non these data and thus establishes a relation between them. We have\nseen above how a noise which we hear is connected with another content\nby our identifying the first as the effect of the second.\n\nIf now we recollect that the activity of thought is on no account to\nbe considered as merely subjective, then we shall not be tempted to\nbelieve that the relations thus established by thought have merely\nsubjective validity.\n\nOur next task is to discover by means of thought what relation the\nabove-mentioned immediate sense-data have to the conscious subject.\n\nThe ambiguity of current speech makes it advisable for me to come\nto an agreement with my readers concerning the meaning of a word\nwhich I shall have to employ in what follows. I shall apply the name\n\"percepts\" to the immediate sense-data enumerated above, in so far\nas the subject consciously apprehends them. It is, then, not the\nprocess of perception, but the object of this process which I call the\n\"percept.\"\n\nI reject the term \"sensation,\" because this has a definite meaning\nin Physiology which is narrower than that of my term \"percept.\" I\ncan speak of feeling as a percept, but not as a sensation in the\nphysiological sense of the term. Before I can have cognisance of my\nfeeling it must become a percept for me. The manner in which, through\nobservation, we gain knowledge of our thought-processes is such that\nwhen we first begin to notice thought, it too may be called a percept.\n\nThe unreflective man regards his percepts, such as they appear to\nhis immediate apprehension, as things having a wholly independent\nexistence. When he sees a tree he believes that it stands in the form\nwhich he sees, with the colours of all its parts, etc., there on the\nspot towards which his gaze is directed. When the same man sees the\nsun in the morning appear as a disc on the horizon, and follows the\ncourse of this disc, he believes that the phenomenon exists and occurs\n(by itself) exactly as he perceives it. To this belief he clings until\nhe meets with further percepts which contradict his former ones. The\nchild who has as yet had no experience of distance grasps at the moon,\nand does not correct its first impression as to the real distance\nuntil a second percept contradicts the first. Every extension of the\ncircle of my percepts compels me to correct my picture of the world. We\nsee this in everyday life, as well as in the mental development of\nmankind. The picture which the ancients made for themselves of the\nrelation of the earth to the sun and other heavenly bodies, had to\nbe replaced by another when Copernicus found that it contradicted\npercepts which in those early days were unknown. A man who had been\nborn blind said, when operated on by Dr. Franz, that the idea of\nthe size of objects which he had formed before his operation by his\nsense of touch was a very different one. He had to correct his tactual\npercepts by his visual percepts.\n\nHow is it that we are compelled to make these continual corrections\nin our observations?\n\nA single reflection supplies the answer to this question. When I stand\nat one end of an avenue, the trees at the other end, away from me,\nseem smaller and nearer together than those where I stand. But the\nscene which I perceive changes when I change the place from which\nI am looking. The exact form in which it presents itself to me is,\ntherefore, dependent on a condition which inheres, not in the object,\nbut in me, the percipient. It is all the same to the avenue where I\nstand. But the picture of it which I receive depends essentially on\nmy standpoint. In the same way, it makes no difference to the sun and\nthe planetary system that human beings happen to perceive them from\nthe earth; but the picture of the heavens which human beings have is\ndetermined by the fact that they inhabit the earth. This dependence\nof our percepts on our points of observation is the easiest kind of\ndependence to understand. The matter becomes more difficult when we\nrealise further that our perceptual world is dependent on our bodily\nand mental organisation. The physicist teaches us that within the\nspace in which we hear a sound there are vibrations of the air, and\nthat there are vibrations also in the particles of the body which we\nregard as the cause of the sound. These vibrations are perceived as\nsounds only if we have normally constructed ears. Without them the\nwhole world would be for us for ever silent. Again, the physiologist\nteaches us that there are men who perceive nothing of the wonderful\ndisplay of colours which surrounds us. In their world there are only\ndegrees of light and dark. Others are blind only to one colour,\ne.g., red. Their world lacks this colour tone, and hence it is\nactually a different one from that of the average man. I should\nlike to call the dependence of my perceptual world on my point of\nobservation \"mathematical,\" and its dependence on my organisation\n\"qualitative.\" The former determines proportions of size and mutual\ndistances of my percepts, the latter their quality. The fact that I\nsee a red surface as red--this qualitative determination--depends on\nthe structure of my eye.\n\nMy percepts, then, are in the first instance subjective. The\nrecognition of the subjective character of our percepts may easily lead\nus to doubt whether there is any objective basis for them at all. When\nwe know that a percept, e.g., that of a red colour or of a certain\ntone, is not possible without a specific structure of our organism,\nwe may easily be led to believe that it has no being at all apart from\nour subjective organisation, that it has no kind of existence apart\nfrom the act of perceiving of which it is the object. The classical\nrepresentative of this theory is George Berkeley, who held that from\nthe moment we realise the importance of a subject for perception,\nwe are no longer able to believe in the existence of a world apart\nfrom a conscious mind. \"Some truths there are so near and obvious to\nthe mind that man need only open his eyes to see them. Such I take\nthis important one to be, viz., that all the choir of heaven and the\nfurniture of the earth--in a word, all those bodies which compose the\nmighty frame of the world--have not any subsistence without a mind;\nthat their being is to be perceived or known; that consequently, so\nlong as they are not actually perceived by me, or do not exist in my\nmind or that of any other created spirit, they must either have no\nexistence at all or else subsist in the mind of some Eternal Spirit\"\n(Berkeley, Of the Principles of Human Knowledge, Part I, Section 6).\n\nOn this view, when we take away the act of perceiving, nothing remains\nof the percept. There is no colour when none is seen, no sound when\nnone is heard. Extension, form, and motion exist as little as colour\nand sound apart from the act of perception. We never perceive bare\nextension or shape. These are always joined with colour or some\nother quality, which are undoubtedly dependent on the subject. If\nthese latter disappear when we cease to perceive, the former, being\nconnected with them, must disappear likewise.\n\nIf it is urged that, even though figure, colour, sound, etc.,\nhave no existence except in the act of perception, yet there must\nbe things which exist apart from perception and which are similar\nto the percepts in our minds, then the view we have mentioned would\nanswer, that a colour can be similar only to a colour, a figure to\na figure. Our percepts can be similar only to our percepts and to\nnothing else. Even what we call a thing is nothing but a collection\nof percepts which are connected in a definite way. If I strip a table\nof its shape, extension, colour, etc.--in short, of all that is merely\nmy percepts--then nothing remains over. If we follow this view to its\nlogical conclusion, we are led to the assertion that the objects of\nmy perceptions exist only through me, and only in as far as, and as\nlong as, I perceive them. They disappear with my perceiving and have\nno meaning apart from it. Apart from my percepts I know of no objects\nand cannot know of any.\n\nNo objection can be made to this assertion as long as we take into\naccount merely the general fact that the percept is determined in part\nby the organisation of the subject. The matter would be far otherwise\nif we were in a position to say what part exactly is played by our\nperceiving in the occurrence of a percept. We should know then what\nhappens to a percept whilst it is being perceived, and we should also\nbe able to determine what character it must possess before it comes\nto be perceived.\n\nThis leads us to turn our attention from the object of a perception\nto the subject of it. I am aware not only of other things but\nalso of myself. The content of my perception of myself consists,\nin the first instance, in that I am something stable in contrast\nwith the ever coming and going flux of percepts. The awareness of\nmyself accompanies in my consciousness the awareness of all other\npercepts. When I am absorbed in the perception of a given object I am,\nfor the time being, aware only of this object. Next I become aware\nalso of myself. I am then conscious, not only of the object, but also\nof my Self as opposed to and observing the object. I do not merely\nsee a tree, I know also that it is I who see it. I know, moreover,\nthat some process takes place in me when I observe a tree. When the\ntree disappears from my field of vision, an after-effect of this\nprocess remains, viz., an image of the tree. This image has become\nassociated with my Self during my perception. My Self has become\nenriched; to its content a new element has been added. This element\nI call my idea of the tree. I should never have occasion to talk of\nideas, were I not aware of my own Self. Percepts would come and go; I\nshould let them slip by. It is only because I am aware of my Self, and\nobserve that with each perception the content of the Self is changed,\nthat I am compelled to connect the perception of the object with the\nchanges in the content of my Self, and to speak of having an idea.\n\nThat I have ideas is in the same sense matter of observation to me\nas that other objects have colour, sound, etc. I am now also able to\ndistinguish these other objects, which stand over against me, by the\nname of the outer world, whereas the contents of my perception of my\nSelf form my inner world. The failure to recognise the true relation\nbetween idea and object has led to the greatest misunderstandings\nin modern philosophy. The fact that I perceive a change in myself,\nthat my Self undergoes a modification, has been thrust into the\nforeground, whilst the object which causes these modifications is\naltogether ignored. In consequence it has been said that we perceive,\nnot objects, but only our ideas. I know, so it is said, nothing of\nthe table in itself, which is the object of my perception, but only\nof the changes which occur within me when I perceive a table. This\ntheory should not be confused with the Berkeleyan theory mentioned\nabove. Berkeley maintains the subjective nature of my perceptual\ncontents, but he does not say that I can know only my own ideas. He\nlimits my knowledge to my ideas because, on his view, there are\nno objects other than ideas. What I perceive as a table no longer\nexists, according to Berkeley, when I cease to look at it. This is\nwhy Berkeley holds that our percepts are created directly by the\nomnipotence of God. I see a table because God causes this percept in\nme. For Berkeley, therefore, nothing is real except God and human\nspirits. What we call the \"world\" exists only in spirits. What the\nna\u00efve man calls the outer world, or material nature, is for Berkeley\nnon-existent. This theory is confronted by the now predominant Kantian\nview which limits our knowledge of the world to our ideas, not because\nof any conviction that nothing beyond these ideas exists, but because\nit holds that we are so organised that we can have knowledge only of\nthe changes within our own selves, not of the things-in-themselves\nwhich are the causes of these changes. This view concludes from the\nfact that I know only my own ideas, not that there is no reality\nindependent of them, but only that the subject cannot have direct\nknowledge of such reality. The mind can merely \"through the medium of\nits subjective thoughts imagine it, conceive it, know it, or perhaps\nalso fail to know it\" (O. Liebmann, Zur Analysis der Wirklichkeit,\np. 28). Kantians believe that their principles are absolutely certain,\nindeed immediately evident, without any proof. \"The most fundamental\nprinciple which the philosopher must begin by grasping clearly,\nconsists in the recognition that our knowledge, in the first instance,\ndoes not extend beyond our ideas. Our ideas are all that we immediately\nhave and experience, and just because we have immediate experience of\nthem the most radical doubt cannot rob us of this knowledge. On the\nother hand, the knowledge which transcends my ideas--taking ideas\nhere in the widest possible sense, so as to include all psychical\nprocesses--is not proof against doubt. Hence, at the very beginning\nof all philosophy we must explicitly set down all knowledge which\ntranscends ideas as open to doubt.\" These are the opening sentences\nof Volkelt's book on Kant's Theory of Knowledge. What is here put\nforward as an immediate and self-evident truth is, in reality,\nthe conclusion of a piece of argument which runs as follows. Na\u00efve\ncommon sense believes that things, just as we perceive them, exist\nalso outside our minds. Physics, Physiology, and Psychology, however,\nteach us that our percepts are dependent on our organisation, and that\ntherefore we cannot know anything about external objects except what\nour organisation transmits to us. The objects which we perceive are\nthus modifications of our organisation, not things-in-themselves. This\nline of thought has, in fact, been characterised by Ed. von Hartmann\nas the one which leads necessarily to the conviction that we can\nhave direct knowledge only of our own ideas (cp. his Grundproblem\nder Erkenntnistheorie, pp. 16-40). Because outside our organisms we\nfind vibrations of particles and of air, which are perceived by us\nas sounds, it is concluded that what we call sound is nothing more\nthan a subjective reaction of our organisms to these motions in the\nexternal world. Similarly, colour and heat are inferred to be merely\nmodifications of our organisms. And, further, these two kinds of\npercepts are held to be the effects of processes in the external\nworld which are utterly different from what we experience as heat\nor as colour. When these processes stimulate the nerves in the skin\nof my body, I perceive heat; when they stimulate the optical nerve\nI perceive light and colour. Light, colour, and heat, then, are the\nreactions of my sensory nerves to external stimuli. Similarly, the\nsense of touch reveals to me, not the objects of the outer world,\nbut only states of my own body. The physicist holds that bodies are\ncomposed of infinitely small particles called molecules, and that\nthese molecules are not in direct contact with one another, but have\ndefinite intervals between them. Between them, therefore, is empty\nspace. Across this space they act on one another by attraction and\nrepulsion. If I put my hand on a body, the molecules of my hand by no\nmeans touch those of the body directly, but there remains a certain\ndistance between body and hand, and what I experience as the body's\nresistance is nothing but the effect of the force of repulsion which\nits molecules exert on my hand. I am absolutely external to the body\nand experience only its effects on my organism.\n\nThe theory of the so-called Specific Nervous Energy, which has been\nadvanced by J. M\u00fcller, supplements these speculations. It asserts\nthat each sense has the peculiarity that it reacts to all external\nstimuli in only one definite way. If the optic nerve is stimulated,\nlight sensations result, irrespective of whether the stimulation is\ndue to what we call light, or to mechanical pressure, or an electrical\ncurrent. On the other hand, the same external stimulus applied to\ndifferent senses gives rise to different sensations. The conclusion\nfrom these facts seems to be, that our sense-organs can give us\nknowledge only of what occurs in themselves, but not of the external\nworld. They determine our percepts, each according to its own nature.\n\nPhysiology shows, further, that there can be no direct knowledge even\nof the effects which objects produce on our sense-organs. Through his\nstudy of the processes which occur in our own bodies, the physiologist\nfinds that, even in the sense-organs, the effects of the external\nprocess are modified in the most diverse ways. We can see this most\nclearly in the case of eye and ear. Both are very complicated organs\nwhich modify the external stimulus considerably, before they conduct\nit to the corresponding nerve. From the peripheral end of the nerve\nthe modified stimulus is then conducted to the brain. Here the central\norgans must in turn be stimulated. The conclusion is, therefore, drawn\nthat the external process undergoes a series of transformations before\nit reaches consciousness. The brain processes are connected by so many\nintermediate links with the external stimuli, that any similarity\nbetween them is out of the question. What the brain ultimately\ntransmits to the soul is neither external processes, nor processes in\nthe sense-organs, but only such as occur in the brain. But even these\nare not apprehended immediately by the soul. What we finally have\nin consciousness are not brain processes at all, but sensations. My\nsensation of red has absolutely no similarity with the process which\noccurs in the brain when I sense red. The sensation, again, occurs as\nan effect in the mind, and the brain process is only its cause. This is\nwhy Hartmann (Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie, p. 37) says, \"What\nthe subject experiences is therefore only modifications of his own\npsychical states and nothing else.\" However, when I have sensations,\nthey are very far as yet from being grouped in those complexes which\nI perceive as \"things.\" Only single sensations can be transmitted\nto me by the brain. The sensations of hardness and softness are\ntransmitted to me by the organ of touch, those of colour and light by\nthe organ of sight. Yet all these are found united in one object. This\nunification must, therefore, be brought about by the soul itself;\nthat is, the soul constructs things out of the separate sensations\nwhich the brain conveys to it. My brain conveys to me singly, and by\nwidely different paths, the visual, tactual, and auditory sensations\nwhich the soul then combines into the idea of a trumpet. Thus, what\nis really the result of a process (i.e., the idea of a trumpet),\nis for my consciousness the primary datum. In this result nothing\ncan any longer be found of what exists outside of me and originally\nstimulated my sense-organs. The external object is lost entirely on\nthe way to the brain and through the brain to the soul.\n\nIt would be hard to find in the history of human speculation another\nedifice of thought which has been built up with greater ingenuity,\nand which yet, on closer analysis, collapses into nothing. Let us\nlook a little closer at the way it has been constructed. The theory\nstarts with what is given in na\u00efve consciousness, i.e., with things as\nperceived. It proceeds to show that none of the qualities which we find\nin these things would exist for us, had we no sense-organs. No eye--no\ncolour. Therefore, the colour is not, as yet, present in the stimulus\nwhich affects the eye. It arises first through the interaction of the\neye and the object. The latter is, therefore, colourless. But neither\nis the colour in the eye, for in the eye there is only a chemical,\nor physical, process which is first conducted by the optic nerve to\nthe brain, and there initiates another process. Even this is not yet\nthe colour. That is only produced in the soul by means of the brain\nprocess. Even then it does not yet appear in consciousness, but is\nfirst referred by the soul to a body in the external world. There\nI finally perceive it, as a quality of this body. We have travelled\nin a complete circle. We are conscious of a coloured object. That is\nthe starting-point. Here thought begins its construction. If I had no\neye, the object would be, for me, colourless. I cannot, therefore,\nattribute the colour to the object. I must look for it elsewhere. I\nlook for it, first, in the eye--in vain; in the nerve--in vain; in\nthe brain--in vain once more; in the soul--here I find it indeed,\nbut not attached to the object. I recover the coloured body only on\nreturning to my starting-point. The circle is completed. The theory\nleads me to identify what the na\u00efve man regards as existing outside\nof him, as really a product of my mind.\n\nAs long as one stops here everything seems to fit beautifully. But\nwe must go over the argument once more from the beginning. Hitherto I\nhave used, as my starting-point, the object, i.e., the external percept\nof which up to now, from my na\u00efve standpoint, I had a totally wrong\nconception. I thought that the percept, just as I perceive it, had\nobjective existence. But now I observe that it disappears with my act\nof perception, that it is only a modification of my mental state. Have\nI, then, any right at all to start from it in my arguments? Can I\nsay of it that it acts on my soul? I must henceforth treat the table\nof which formerly I believed that it acted on me, and produced an\nidea of itself in me, as itself an idea. But from this it follows\nlogically that my sense-organs, and the processes in them are also\nmerely subjective. I have no right to talk of a real eye but only\nof my idea of an eye. Exactly the same is true of the nerve paths,\nand the brain processes, and even of the process in the soul itself,\nthrough which things are supposed to be constructed out of the chaos\nof diverse sensations. If assuming the truth of the first circle of\nargumentation, I run through the steps of my cognitive activity once\nmore, the latter reveals itself as a tissue of ideas which, as such,\ncannot act on one another. I cannot say that my idea of the object\nacts on my idea of the eye, and that from this interaction results\nmy idea of colour. But it is necessary that I should say this. For\nas soon as I see clearly that my sense-organs and their activity,\nmy nerve- and soul-processes, can also be known to me only through\nperception, the argument which I have outlined reveals itself in\nits full absurdity. It is quite true that I can have no percept\nwithout the corresponding sense-organ. But just as little can I\nbe aware of a sense-organ without perception. From the percept of\na table I can pass to the eye which sees it, or the nerves in the\nskin which touches it, but what takes place in these I can, in turn,\nlearn only from perception. And then I soon perceive that there is no\ntrace of similarity between the process which takes place in the eye\nand the colour which I see. I cannot get rid of colour sensations\nby pointing to the process which takes place in the eye whilst I\nperceive a colour. No more can I re-discover the colour in the nerve-\nor brain-processes. I only add a new percept, localised within the\norganism, to the first percept which the na\u00efve man localises outside\nof his organism. I only pass from one percept to another.\n\nMoreover, there is a break in the whole argument. I can follow\nthe processes in my organism up to those in my brain, even though\nmy assumptions become more and more hypothetical as I approach the\ncentral processes of the brain. The method of external observation\nceases with the process in my brain, more particularly with the\nprocess which I should observe, if I could treat the brain with\nthe instruments and methods of Physics and Chemistry. The method of\ninternal observation, or introspection, begins with the sensations,\nand includes the construction of things out of the material of\nsense-data. At the point of transition from brain process to sensation,\nthere is a break in the sequence of observation.\n\nThe theory which I have here described, and which calls itself Critical\nIdealism, in contrast to the standpoint of na\u00efve common sense which it\ncalls Na\u00efve Realism, makes the mistake of characterising one group of\npercepts as ideas, whilst taking another group in the very same sense\nas the Na\u00efve Realism which it apparently refutes. It establishes the\nideal character of percepts by accepting na\u00efvely, as objectively valid\nfacts, the percepts connected with one's own body; and, in addition,\nit fails to see that it confuses two spheres of observation, between\nwhich it can find no connecting link.\n\nCritical Idealism can refute Na\u00efve Realism only by itself assuming,\nin na\u00efve-realistic fashion, that one's own organism has objective\nexistence. As soon as the Idealist realises that the percepts connected\nwith his own organism stand on exactly the same footing as those which\nNa\u00efve Realism assumes to have objective existence, he can no longer\nuse the former as a safe foundation for his theory. He would, to be\nconsistent, have to regard his own organism also as a mere complex\nof ideas. But this removes the possibility of regarding the content\nof the perceptual world as a product of the mind's organisation. One\nwould have to assume that the idea \"colour\" was only a modification\nof the idea \"eye.\" So-called Critical Idealism can be established\nonly by borrowing the assumptions of Na\u00efve Realism. The apparent\nrefutation of the latter is achieved only by uncritically accepting\nits own assumptions as valid in another sphere.\n\nThis much, then, is certain: Analysis within the world of percepts\ncannot establish Critical Idealism, and, consequently, cannot strip\npercepts of their objective character.\n\nStill less is it legitimate to represent the principle that\n\"the perceptual world is my idea\" as self-evident and needing no\nproof. Schopenhauer begins his chief work, The World as Will and Idea,\nwith the words: \"The world is my idea--this is a truth which holds\ngood for everything that lives and knows, though man alone can bring\nit into reflective and abstract consciousness. If he really does this,\nhe has attained to philosophical wisdom. It then becomes clear and\ncertain to him that what he knows is not a sun and an earth, but only\nan eye that sees a sun, a hand that feels an earth; that the world\nwhich surrounds him is there only in idea, i.e., only in relation\nto something else, the consciousness which is himself. If any truth\ncan be asserted a priori, it is this: for it is the expression of\nthe most general form of all possible and thinkable experience,\na form which is more general than time, or space, or causality,\nfor they all presuppose it ...\" (The World as Will and Idea, Book I,\npar. 1). This whole theory is wrecked by the fact, already mentioned\nabove, that the eyes and the hand are just as much percepts as the\nsun and the earth. Using Schopenhauer's vocabulary in his own sense,\nI might maintain against him that my eye which sees the sun, and my\nhand which feels the earth, are my ideas just like the sun and the\nearth themselves. That, put in this way, the whole theory cancels\nitself, is clear without further argument. For only my real eye and\nmy real hand, but not my ideas \"eye\" and \"hand,\" could own the ideas\n\"sun\" and \"earth\" as modifications. Yet it is only in terms of these\nideas that Critical Idealism has the right to speak.\n\nCritical Idealism is totally unable to gain an insight unto the\nrelation of percept to idea. It cannot make the separation, mentioned\non p. 58, between what happens to the percept in the process of\nperception and what must be inherent in it prior to perception. We\nmust therefore attempt this problem in another way.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nOUR KNOWLEDGE OF THE WORLD\n\n\nFrom the foregoing considerations it follows that it is impossible\nto prove, by analysis of the content of our perceptions, that our\npercepts are ideas. This is supposed to be proved by showing that, if\nthe process of perceiving takes place in the way in which we conceive\nit in accordance with the na\u00efve-realistic assumptions concerning the\npsychological and physiological constitution of human individuals,\nthen we have to do, not with things themselves, but merely with our\nideas of things. Now, if Na\u00efve Realism, when consistently thought\nout, leads to results which directly contradict its presuppositions,\nthen these presuppositions must be discarded as unsuitable for the\nfoundation of a theory of the world. In any case, it is inadmissible\nto reject the presuppositions and yet accept the consequences, as the\nCritical Idealist does who bases his assertion that the world is my\nidea on the line of argument indicated above. (Eduard von Hartmann\ngives in his work Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie a full\naccount of this line of argument.)\n\nThe truth of Critical Idealism is one thing, the persuasiveness\nof its proofs another. How it stands with the former, will appear\nlater in the course of our argument, but the persuasiveness of its\nproofs is nil. If one builds a house, and the ground floor collapses\nwhilst the first floor is being built, then the first floor collapses\ntoo. Na\u00efve Realism and Critical Idealism are related to one another\nlike the ground floor to the first floor in this simile.\n\nFor one who holds that the whole perceptual world is only an ideal\nworld, and, moreover, the effect of things unknown to him acting\non his soul, the real problem of knowledge is naturally concerned,\nnot with the ideas present only in the soul, but with the things\nwhich lie outside his consciousness, and which are independent of\nhim. He asks, How much can we learn about them indirectly, seeing\nthat we cannot observe them directly? From this point of view, he\nis concerned, not with the connection of his conscious percepts with\none another, but with their causes which transcend his consciousness\nand exist independently of him, whereas the percepts, on his view,\ndisappear as soon as he turns his sense-organs away from the things\nthemselves. Our consciousness, on this view, works like a mirror\nfrom which the pictures of definite things disappear the very moment\nits reflecting surface is not turned towards them. If, now, we do\nnot see the things themselves, but only their reflections, we must\nobtain knowledge of the nature of the former indirectly by drawing\nconclusions from the character of the latter. The whole of modern\nscience adopts this point of view, when it uses percepts only as\na means of obtaining information about the motions of matter which\nlie behind them, and which alone really \"are.\" If the philosopher,\nas Critical Idealist, admits real existence at all, then his sole\naim is to gain knowledge of this real existence indirectly by means\nof his ideas. His interest ignores the subjective world of ideas,\nand pursues instead the causes of these ideas.\n\nThe Critical Idealist can, however, go even further and say, I\nam confined to the world of my own ideas and cannot escape from\nit. If I conceive a thing beyond my ideas, this concept, once more,\nis nothing but my idea. An Idealist of this type will either deny\nthe thing-in-itself entirely or, at any rate, assert that it has no\nsignificance for human minds, i.e., that it is as good as non-existent\nsince we can know nothing of it.\n\nTo this kind of Critical Idealist the whole world seems a chaotic\ndream, in the face of which all striving for knowledge is simply\nmeaningless. For him there can be only two sorts of men: (1) victims\nof the illusion that the dreams they have woven themselves are real\nthings, and (2) wise men who see through the nothingness of this\ndream world, and who gradually lose all desire to trouble themselves\nfurther about it. From this point of view, even one's own personality\nmay become a mere dream phantom. Just as during sleep there appears\namong my dream-images an image of myself, so in waking consciousness\nthe idea of my own Self is added to the idea of the outer world. I have\nthen given to me in consciousness, not my real Self, but only my idea\nof my Self. Whoever denies that things exist, or, at least, that we\ncan know anything of them, must also deny the existence, respectively\nthe knowledge, of one's own personality. This is how the Critical\nIdealist comes to maintain that \"All reality transforms itself into\na wonderful dream, without a life which is the object of the dream,\nand without a mind which has the dream; into a dream which is nothing\nbut a dream of itself.\" (Cp. Fichte, Die Bestimmung des Menschen.)\n\nWhether he who believes that he recognises immediate experience to\nbe a dream, postulates nothing behind this dream, or whether he\nrelates his ideas to actual things, is immaterial. In both cases\nlife itself must lose all scientific interest for him. However,\nwhereas for those who believe that the whole of accessible reality\nis exhausted in dreams, all science is an absurdity, for those who\nfeel compelled to argue from ideas to things, science consists in\nstudying these things-in-themselves. The first of these theories of\nthe world may be called Absolute Illusionism, the second is called\nTranscendental Realism [2] by its most rigorously logical exponent,\nEduard von Hartmann.\n\nThese two points of view have this in common with Na\u00efve Realism, that\nthey seek to gain a footing in the world by means of an analysis of\npercepts. Within this sphere, however, they are unable to find any\nstable point.\n\nOne of the most important questions for an adherent of Transcendental\nRealism would have to be, how the Ego constructs the world of ideas\nout of itself. A world of ideas which was given to us, and which\ndisappeared as soon as we shut our senses to the external world, might\nprovoke an earnest desire for knowledge, in so far as it was a means\nfor investigating indirectly the world of the self-existing Self. If\nthe things of our experience were \"ideas,\" then our everyday life would\nbe like a dream, and the discovery of the true facts like waking. Even\nour dream-images interest us as long as we dream and, consequently,\ndo not detect their dream character. But as soon as we wake, we no\nlonger look for the connections of our dream-images among themselves,\nbut rather for the physical, physiological, and psychological processes\nwhich underlie them. In the same way, a philosopher who holds the world\nto be his idea, cannot be interested in the reciprocal relations of the\ndetails within the world. If he admits the existence of a real Ego at\nall, then his question will be, not how one of his ideas is associated\nwith another, but what takes place in the Soul which is independent\nof these ideas, while a certain train of ideas passes through his\nconsciousness. If I dream that I am drinking wine which makes my\nthroat burn, and then wake up with a fit of coughing (cp. Weygandt,\nEntstehung der Tr\u00e4ume, 1893) I cease, the moment I wake, to be\ninterested in the dream-experience for its own sake. My attention is\nnow concerned only with the physiological and psychological processes\nby means of which the irritation which causes me to cough, comes to be\nsymbolically expressed in the dream. Similarly, once the philosopher\nis convinced that the given world consists of nothing but ideas, his\ninterest is bound to switch from them at once to the soul which is\nthe reality lying behind them. The matter is more serious, however,\nfor the Illusionist who denies the existence of an Ego behind the\n\"ideas,\" or at least holds this Ego to be unknowable. We might very\neasily be led to such a view by the reflection that, in contrast to\ndreaming, there is the waking state in which we have the opportunity\nto detect our dreams, and to realise the real relations of things,\nbut that there is no state of the self which is related similarly to\nour waking conscious life. Every adherent of this view fails entirely\nto see that there is, in fact, something which is to mere perception\nwhat our waking experience to our dreams. This something is thought.\n\nThe na\u00efve man cannot be charged with failure to perceive this. He\naccepts life as it is, and regards things as real just as they\npresent themselves to him in experience. The first step, however,\nwhich we take beyond this standpoint can be only this, that we ask\nhow thought is related to perception. It makes no difference whether\nor no the percept, as given to me, has a continuous existence before\nand after I perceive it. If I want to assert anything whatever about\nit, I can do so only with the help of thought. When I assert that the\nworld is my idea, I have enunciated the result of an act of thought,\nand if my thought is not applicable to the world, then my result is\nfalse. Between a percept and every kind of judgment about it there\nintervenes thought.\n\nThe reason why, in our discussion about things, we generally\noverlook the part played by thought, has already been given above\n(p. 31). It lies in the fact that our attention is concentrated only\non the object about which we think, but not at the same time on the\nthinking itself. The na\u00efve mind, therefore, treats thought as something\nwhich has nothing to do with things, but stands altogether aloof from\nthem and makes its theories about them. The theory which the thinker\nconstructs concerning the phenomena of the world is regarded, not as\npart of the real things, but as existing only in men's heads. The\nworld is complete in itself even without this theory. It is all\nready-made and finished with all its substances and forces, and of\nthis ready-made world man makes himself a picture. Whoever thinks\nthus need only be asked one question. What right have you to declare\nthe world to be complete without thought? Does not the world cause\nthoughts in the minds of men with the same necessity as it causes\nthe blossoms on plants? Plant a seed in the earth. It puts forth\nroots and stem, it unfolds into leaves and blossoms. Set the plant\nbefore yourselves. It connects itself, in your minds, with a definite\nconcept. Why should this concept belong any less to the whole plant\nthan leaf and blossom? You say the leaves and blossoms exist quite\napart from an experiencing subject. The concept appears only when a\nhuman being makes an object of the plant. Quite so. But leaves and\nblossoms also appear on the plant only if there is soil in which\nthe seed can be planted, and light and air in which the blossoms\nand leaves can unfold. Just so the concept of a plant arises when a\nthinking being comes into contact with the plant.\n\nIt is quite arbitrary to regard the sum of what we experience of a\nthing through bare perception as a totality, a whole, while that which\nthought reveals in it is regarded as a mere accretion which has nothing\nto do with the thing itself. If I am given a rosebud to-day, the\npercept that offers itself to me is complete only for the moment. If\nI put the bud into water, I shall to-morrow get a very different\npicture of my object. If I watch the rosebud without interruption,\nI shall see to-day's state gradually change into to-morrow's through\nan infinite number of intermediate stages. The picture which presents\nitself to me at any one moment is only a chance section out of the\ncontinuous process of growth in which the object is engaged. If I do\nnot put the bud into water, a whole series of states, the possibility\nof which lay in the bud, will not be realised. Similarly, I may be\nprevented to-morrow from watching the blossom further, and thus carry\naway an incomplete picture of it.\n\nIt would be a quite unscientific and arbitrary judgment which declared\nof any haphazard appearance of a thing, this is the thing.\n\nTo regard the sum of perceptual appearances as the thing is no more\nlegitimate. It might be quite possible for a mind to receive the\nconcept at the same time as, and together with, the percept. To\nsuch a mind it would never occur that the concept did not belong\nto the thing. It would have to ascribe to the concept an existence\nindivisibly bound up with the thing.\n\nLet me make myself clearer by another example. If I throw a\nstone horizontally through the air, I perceive it in different\nplaces at different times. I connect these places so as to form a\nline. Mathematics teaches me to distinguish various kinds of lines,\none of which is the parabola. I know a parabola to be a line which is\nproduced by a point moving according to a certain well-defined law. If\nI analyse the conditions under which the stone thrown by me moves,\nI find that the line of its flight is identical with the line I know\nas a parabola. That the stone moves exactly in a parabola is a result\nof the given conditions and follows necessarily from them. The form\nof the parabola belongs to the whole phenomenon as much as any other\nfeature of it. The hypothetical mind described above which has no\nneed of the roundabout way of thought, would find itself presented,\nnot only with a sequence of visual percepts at different points, but,\nas part and parcel of these phenomena, also with the parabolic form\nof the line of flight, which we can add to the phenomenon only by an\nact of thought.\n\nIt is not due to the real objects that they appear to us at first\nwithout their conceptual sides, but to our mental organisation. Our\nwhole organisation functions in such a way that in the apprehension\nof every real thing the relevant elements come to us from two sources,\nviz., from perception and from thought.\n\nThe nature of things is indifferent to the way I am organised for\napprehending them. The breach between perception and thought exists\nonly from the moment that I confront objects as spectator. But which\nelements do, and which do not, belong to the objects, cannot depend\non the manner in which I obtain my knowledge of them.\n\nMan is a being with many limitations. First of all, he is a thing among\nother things. His existence is in space and time. Hence but a limited\nportion of the total universe can ever be given to him. This limited\nportion, however, is linked up with other parts on every side both\nin time and in space. If our existence were so linked with things\nthat every process in the object world were also a process in us,\nthere would be no difference between us and things. Neither would\nthere be any individual objects for us. All processes and events\nwould then pass continuously one into the other. The cosmos would be\na unity and a whole complete in itself. The stream of events would\nnowhere be interrupted. But owing to our limitations we perceive as\nan individual object what, in truth, is not an individual object at\nall. Nowhere, e.g., is the particular quality \"red\" to be found by\nitself in abstraction. It is surrounded on all sides by other qualities\nto which it belongs, and without which it could not subsist. For\nus, however, it is necessary to isolate certain sections of the\nworld and to consider them by themselves. Our eye can seize only\nsingle colours one after another out of a manifold colour-complex,\nour understanding only single concepts out of a connected conceptual\nsystem. This isolation is a subjective act, which is due to the fact\nthat we are not identical with the world-process, but are only things\namong other things.\n\nIt is of the greatest importance for us to determine the relation\nof ourselves, as things, to all other things. The determining of\nthis relation must be distinguished from merely becoming conscious\nof ourselves. For this self-awareness we depend on perception just\nas we do for our awareness of any other thing. The perception of\nmyself reveals to me a number of qualities which I combine into an\napprehension of my personality as a whole, just as I combine the\nqualities, yellow, metallic, hard, etc., in the unity \"gold.\" This\nkind of self-consciousness does not take me beyond the sphere of what\nbelongs to me. Hence it must be distinguished from the determination\nof myself by thought. Just as I determine by thought the place of any\nsingle percept of the external world in the whole cosmic system, so I\nfit by an act of thought what I perceive in myself into the order of\nthe world-process. My self-observation restricts me within definite\nlimits, but my thought has nothing to do with these limits. In this\nsense I am a two-sided being. I am contained within the sphere which\nI apprehend as that of my personality, but I am also the possessor\nof an activity which, from a higher standpoint, determines my finite\nexistence. Thought is not individual like sensation and feeling;\nit is universal. It receives an individual stamp in each separate\nhuman being only because it comes to be related to his individual\nfeelings and sensations. By means of these particular colourings\nof the universal thought, individual men are distinguished from\none another. There is only one single concept of \"triangle.\" It is\nquite immaterial for the content of this concept whether it is in A's\nconsciousness or in B's. It will, however, be grasped by each of the\ntwo minds in its own individual way.\n\nThis thought conflicts with a common prejudice which is very hard to\novercome. The victims of this prejudice are unable to see that the\nconcept of a triangle which my mind grasps is the same as the concept\nwhich my neighbour's mind grasps. The na\u00efve man believes himself to\nbe the creator of his concepts. Hence he believes that each person has\nhis private concepts. One of the first things which philosophic thought\nrequires of us is to overcome this prejudice. The one single concept of\n\"triangle\" does not split up into many concepts because it is thought\nby many minds. For the thought of the many is itself a unity.\n\nIn thought we have the element which welds each man's special\nindividuality into one whole with the cosmos. In so far as we sense\nand feel (perceive), we are isolated individuals; in so far as\nwe think, we are the All-One Being which pervades everything. This\nis the deeper meaning of our two-sided nature. We are conscious of\nan absolute principle revealing itself in us, a principle which is\nuniversal. But we experience it, not as it issues from the centre of\nthe world, but rather at a point on the periphery. Were the former\nthe case, we should know, as soon as ever we became conscious, the\nsolution of the whole world problem. But since we stand at a point\non the periphery, and find that our own being is confined within\ndefinite limits, we must explore the region which lies beyond our\nown being with the help of thought, which is the universal cosmic\nprinciple manifesting itself in our minds.\n\nThe fact that thought, in us, reaches out beyond our separate existence\nand relates itself to the universal world-order, gives rise to the\ndesire for knowledge in us. Beings without thought do not experience\nthis desire. When they come in contact with other things no questions\narise for them. These other things remain external to such beings. But\nin thinking beings the concept confronts the external thing. It is\nthat part of the thing which we receive not from without, but from\nwithin. To assimilate, to unite, the two elements, the inner and the\nouter, that is the function of knowledge.\n\nThe percept, thus, is not something finished and self-contained, but\none side only of the total reality. The other side is the concept. The\nact of cognition is the synthesis of percept and concept. And it is\nonly the union of percept and concept which constitutes the whole\nthing.\n\nThe preceding discussion shows clearly that it is futile to seek for\nany other common element in the separate things of the world than the\nideal content which thinking supplies. All attempts to discover any\nother principle of unity in the world than this internally coherent\nideal content, which we gain for ourselves by the conceptual\nanalysis of our percepts, are bound to fail. Neither a personal\nGod, nor force, nor matter, nor the blind will (of Schopenhauer and\nHartmann), can be accepted by us as the universal principle of unity\nin the world. These principles all belong only to a limited sphere\nof our experience. Personality we experience only in ourselves,\nforce and matter only in external things. The will, again, can\nbe regarded only as the expression of the activity of our finite\npersonalities. Schopenhauer wants to avoid making \"abstract\" thought\nthe principle of unity in the world, and seeks instead something which\npresents itself to him immediately as real. This philosopher holds that\nwe can never solve the riddle of the world so long as we regard it as\nan \"external\" world. \"In fact, the meaning for which we seek of that\nworld which is present to us only as our idea, or the transition from\nthe world as mere idea of the knowing subject to whatever it may be\nbesides this, would never be found if the investigator himself were\nnothing more than the pure knowing subject (a winged cherub without\na body). But he himself is rooted in that world: he finds himself\nin it as an individual, that is to say, his knowledge, which is the\nnecessary supporter of the whole world as idea, is yet always given\nthrough the medium of a body, whose affections are, as we have shown,\nthe starting-point for the understanding in the perception of that\nworld. His body is, for the pure knowing subject, an idea like every\nother idea, an object among objects. Its movements and actions are so\nfar known to him in precisely the same way as the changes of all other\nperceived objects, and would be just as strange and incomprehensible\nto him if their meaning were not explained for him in an entirely\ndifferent way.... The body is given in two entirely different ways to\nthe subject of knowledge, who becomes an individual only through his\nidentity with it. It is given as an idea in intelligent perception,\nas an object among objects and subject to the laws of objects. And it\nis also given in quite a different way as that which is immediately\nknown to every one, and is signified by the word 'will.' Every true\nact of his will is also at once and without exception a movement of\nhis body. The act of will and the movement of the body are not two\ndifferent things objectively known, which the bond of causality unites;\nthey do not stand in the relation of cause and effect; they are one and\nthe same, but they are given in entirely different ways--immediately,\nand again in perception for the understanding.\" (The World as Will\nand Idea, Book 2, \u00a7 18.) Schopenhauer considers himself entitled by\nthese arguments to hold that the will becomes objectified in the\nhuman body. He believes that in the activities of the body he has\nan immediate experience of reality, of the thing-in-itself in the\nconcrete. Against these arguments we must urge that the activities of\nour body become known to us only through self-observation, and that,\nas such, they are in no way superior to other percepts. If we want\nto know their real nature, we can do so only by means of thought,\ni.e., by fitting them into the ideal system of our concepts and ideas.\n\nOne of the most deeply rooted prejudices of the na\u00efve mind is\nthe opinion that thinking is abstract and empty of any concrete\ncontent. At best, we are told, it supplies but an \"ideal\" counterpart\nof the unity of the world, but never that unity itself. Whoever holds\nthis view has never made clear to himself what a percept apart from\nconcepts really is. Let us see what this world of bare percepts is. A\nmere juxtaposition in space, a mere succession in time, a chaos of\ndisconnected particulars--that is what it is. None of these things\nwhich come and go on the stage of perception has any connection with\nany other. The world is a multiplicity of objects without distinctions\nof value. None plays any greater part in the nexus of the world than\nany other. In order to realise that this or that fact has a greater\nimportance than another we must go to thought. As long as we do not\nthink, the rudimentary organ of an animal which has no significance\nin its life, appears equal in value to its more important limbs. The\nparticular facts reveal their meaning, in themselves and in their\nrelations with other parts of the world, only when thought spins its\nthreads from thing to thing. This activity of thinking has always\na content. For it is only through a perfectly definite concrete\ncontent that I can know why the snail belongs to a lower type of\norganisation than the lion. The mere appearance, the percept, gives\nme no content which could inform me as to the degree of perfection\nof the organisation.\n\nThought contributes this content to the percept from the world of\nconcepts and ideas. In contrast with the content of perception which\nis given to us from without, the content of thought appears within\nour minds. The form in which thought first appears in consciousness\nwe will call \"intuition.\" Intuition is to thoughts what observation\nis to percepts. Intuition and observation are the sources of our\nknowledge. An external object which we observe remains unintelligible\nto us, until the corresponding intuition arises within us which adds\nto the reality those sides of it which are lacking in the percept. To\nanyone who is incapable of supplying the relevant intuitions,\nthe full nature of the real remains a sealed book. Just as the\ncolour-blind person sees only differences of brightness without\nany colour qualities, so the mind which lacks intuition sees only\ndisconnected fragments of percepts.\n\nTo explain a thing, to make it intelligible, means nothing else than to\nplace it in the context from which it has been torn by the peculiar\norganisation of our minds, described above. Nothing can possibly\nexist cut off from the universe. Hence all isolation of objects has\nonly subjective validity for minds organised like ours. For us the\nuniverse is split up into above and below, before and after, cause\nand effect, object and idea, matter and force, object and subject,\netc. The objects which, in observation, appear to us as separate,\nbecome combined, bit by bit, through the coherent, unified system\nof our intuitions. By thought we fuse again into one whole all that\nperception has separated.\n\nAn object presents riddles to our understanding so long as it exists\nin isolation. But this is an abstraction of our own making and can\nbe unmade again in the world of concepts.\n\nExcept through thought and perception nothing is given to us\ndirectly. The question now arises as to the interpretation of percepts\non our theory. We have learnt that the proof which Critical Idealism\noffers for the subjective nature of percepts collapses. But the\nexhibition of the falsity of the proof is not, by itself, sufficient\nto show that the doctrine itself is an error. Critical Idealism does\nnot base its proof on the absolute nature of thought, but relies on the\nargument that Na\u00efve Realism, when followed to its logical conclusion,\ncontradicts itself. How does the matter appear when we recognise the\nabsoluteness of thought?\n\nLet us assume that a certain percept, e.g., red, appears in\nconsciousness. To continued observation, the percept shows itself to\nbe connected with other percepts, e.g., a certain figure, temperature,\nand touch-qualities. This complex of percepts I call an object in\nthe world of sense. I can now ask myself: Over and above the percepts\njust mentioned, what else is there in the section of space in which\nthey are? I shall then find mechanical, chemical, and other processes\nin that section of space. I next go further and study the processes\nwhich take place between the object and my sense-organs. I shall\nfind oscillations in an elastic medium, the character of which has\nnot the least in common with the percepts from which I started. I\nget the same result if I trace further the connection between\nsense-organs and brain. In each of these inquiries I gather new\npercepts, but the connecting thread which binds all these spatially\nand temporally separated percepts into one whole, is thought. The air\nvibrations which carry sound are given to me as percepts just like\nthe sound. Thought alone links all these percepts one to the other\nand exhibits them in their reciprocal relations. We have no right\nto say that over and above our immediate percepts there is anything\nexcept the ideal nexus of precepts (which thought has to reveal). The\nrelation of the object perceived to the perceiving subject, which\nrelation transcends the bare percept, is therefore purely ideal,\ni.e., capable of being expressed only through concepts. Only if it\nwere possible to perceive how the object of perception affects the\nperceiving subject, or, alternatively, only if I could watch the\nconstruction of the perceptual complex through the subject, could we\nspeak as modern Physiology, and the Critical Idealism which is based\non it, speak. Their theory confuses an ideal relation (that of the\nobject to the subject) with a process of which we could speak only if\nit were possible to perceive it. The proposition, \"No colour without\na colour-sensing eye,\" cannot be taken to mean that the eye produces\nthe colour, but only that an ideal relation, recognisable by thought,\nsubsists between the percept \"colour\" and the percept \"eye.\"\n\nTo empirical science belongs the task of ascertaining how the\nproperties of the eye and those of the colours are related to one\nanother; by means of what structures the organ of sight makes possible\nthe perception of colours, etc. I can trace how one percept succeeds\nanother and how one is related to others in space, and I can formulate\nthese relations in conceptual terms, but I can never perceive how a\npercept originates out of the non-perceptible. All attempts to seek\nany relations between percepts other than conceptual relations must\nof necessity fail.\n\nWhat then is a percept? This question, asked in this general way,\nis absurd. A percept appears always as a perfectly determinate,\nconcrete content. This content is immediately given and is completely\ncontained in the given. The only question one can ask concerning\nthe given content is, what it is apart from perception, that is,\nwhat it is for thought. The question concerning the \"what\" of a\npercept can, therefore, only refer to the conceptual intuition which\ncorresponds to the percept. From this point of view, the problem of the\nsubjectivity of percepts, in the sense in which the Critical Idealists\ndebate it, cannot be raised at all. Only that which is experienced\nas belonging to the subject can be termed \"subjective.\" To form a\nlink between subject and object is impossible for any real process,\nin the na\u00efve sense of the word \"real,\" in which it means a process\nwhich can be perceived. That is possible only for thought. For us,\nthen, \"objective\" means that which, for perception, presents itself\nas external to the perceiving subject. As subject of perception I\nremain perceptible to myself after the table which now stands before\nme has disappeared from my field of observation. The perception of the\ntable has produced a modification in me which persists like myself. I\npreserve an image of the table which now forms part of my Self. Modern\nPsychology terms this image a \"memory-idea.\" Now this is the only\nthing which has any right to be called the idea of the table. For it\nis the perceptible modification of my own mental state through the\npresence of the table in my visual field. Moreover, it does not mean\na modification in some \"Ego-in-itself\" behind the perceiving subject,\nbut the modification of the perceiving subject itself. The idea is,\ntherefore, a subjective percept, in contrast with the objective percept\nwhich occurs when the object is present in the perceptual field. The\nfalse identification of the subjective with this objective percept\nleads to the misunderstanding of Idealism: The world is my idea.\n\nOur next task must be to define the concept of \"idea\" more nearly. What\nwe have said about it so far does not give us the concept, but only\nshows us where in the perceptual field ideas are to be found. The\nexact concept of \"idea\" will also make it possible for us to obtain\na satisfactory understanding of the relation of idea and object. This\nwill then lead us over the border-line, where the relation of subject\nto object is brought down from the purely conceptual field of knowledge\ninto concrete individual life. Once we know how we are to conceive\nthe world, it will be an easy task to adapt ourselves to it. Only\nwhen we know to what object we are to devote our activity can we put\nour whole energy into our actions.\n\n\n\n\nADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nThe view which I have here outlined may be regarded as one to which\nman is led as it were spontaneously, as soon as he begins to reflect\nabout his relation to the world. He then finds himself caught in a\nsystem of thoughts which dissolves for him as fast as he frames it. The\nthoughts which form this system are such that the purely theoretical\nrefutation of them does not exhaust our task. We have to live through\nthem, in order to understand the confusion into which they lead us,\nand to find the way out. They must figure in any discussion of the\nrelation of man to the world, not for the sake of refuting others\nwhom one believes to be holding mistaken views about this relation,\nbut because it is necessary to understand the confusion in which\nall first efforts at reflection about such a relation are apt to\nissue. One needs to learn by experience how to refute oneself with\nrespect to these first reflections. This is the point of view from\nwhich the arguments of the preceding chapter are to be understood.\n\nWhoever tries to work out for himself a theory of the relation of man\nto the world, becomes aware of the fact that he creates this relation,\nat least in part, by forming ideas about the things and events in the\nworld. In consequence, his attention is deflected from what exists\noutside in the world and directed towards his inner world, the realm\nof his ideas. He begins to say to himself, It is impossible for me\nto stand in relation to any thing or event, unless an idea appears\nin me. From this fact, once noticed, it is but a step to the theory:\nall that I experience is only my ideas; of the existence of a world\noutside I know only in so far as it is an idea in me. With this theory,\nman abandons the standpoint of Na\u00efve Realism which he occupies prior\nto all reflection about his relation to the world. So long as he\nstands there, he believes that he is dealing with real things, but\nreflection about himself drives him away from this position. Reflection\ndoes not reveal to his gaze a real world such as na\u00efve consciousness\nclaims to have before it. Reflection reveals to him only his ideas;\nthey interpose themselves between his own nature and a supposedly\nreal world, such as the na\u00efve point of view confidently affirms. The\ninterposition of the world of ideas prevents man from perceiving any\nlonger such a real world. He must suppose that he is blind to such\na reality. Thus arises the concept of a \"thing-in-itself\" which is\ninaccessible to knowledge. So long as we consider only the relation\nto the world into which man appears to enter through the stream of his\nideas, we can hardly avoid framing this type of theory. Yet we cannot\nremain at the point of view of Na\u00efve Realism except at the price\nof closing our minds artificially to the desire for knowledge. The\nexistence of this desire for knowledge about the relation of man to\nthe world proves that the na\u00efve point of view must be abandoned. If\nthe na\u00efve point of view yielded anything which we could acknowledge\nas truth, we could not experience this desire. But mere abandonment\nof the na\u00efve point of view does not lead to any other view which\nwe could regard as true, so long as we retain, without noticing\nit, the type of theory which the na\u00efve point of view imposes on\nus. This is the mistake made by the man who says, I experience only\nmy ideas, and though I think that I am dealing with real things, I am\nactually conscious of nothing but my ideas of real things. I must,\ntherefore, suppose that genuine realities, \"things-in-themselves,\"\nexist only outside the boundary of my consciousness; that they are\ninaccessible to my immediate knowledge; but that they somehow come\ninto contact with me and influence me so as to make a world of ideas\narise in me. Whoever thinks thus, duplicates in thought the world\nbefore him by adding another. But, strictly he ought to begin his\nwhole theorising over again with regard to this second world. For\nthe unknown \"thing-in-itself,\" in its relation to man's own nature,\nis conceived in exactly the same way as is the known thing of the\nna\u00efvely realistic point of view. There is only one way of escaping\nfrom the confusion into which one falls, by critical reflection on\nthis na\u00efve point of view. This is to observe that, at the very heart\nof everything we can experience, be it within the mind or outside\nin the world of perception, there is something which does not share\nthe fate of an idea interposing itself between the real event and the\ncontemplating mind. This something is thinking. With regard to thinking\nwe can maintain the point of view of Na\u00efve Realism. If we mistakenly\nabandon it, it is only because we have learnt that we must abandon\nit for other mental activities, but overlook that what we have found\nto be true for other activities, does not apply to thinking. When we\nrealise this, we gain access to the further insight that, in thinking\nand through thinking, man necessarily comes to know the very thing to\nwhich he appears to blind himself by interposing between the world and\nhimself the stream of his ideas. A critic highly esteemed by the author\nof this book has objected that this discussion of thinking stops at\na na\u00efvely realistic theory of thinking, as shown by the fact that the\nreal world and the world of ideas are held to be identical. However,\nthe author believes himself to have shown in this very discussion\nthat the validity of \"Na\u00efve Realism,\" as applied to thinking, results\ninevitably from an unprejudiced study of thinking; and that Na\u00efve\nRealism, in so far as it is invalid for other mental activities,\nis overcome through the recognition of the true nature of thinking.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nHUMAN INDIVIDUALITY\n\n\nPhilosophers have found the chief difficulty in the explanation of\nideas in the fact that we are not identical with the external objects,\nand yet our ideas must have a form corresponding to their objects. But\non closer inspection it turns out that this difficulty does not really\nexist. We certainly are not identical with the external things, but\nwe belong together with them to one and the same world. The stream\nof the universal cosmic process passes through that segment of the\nworld which, to my perception, is myself as subject. So far as my\nperception goes, I am, in the first instance, confined within the\nlimits bounded by my skin. But all that is contained within the skin\nbelongs to the cosmos as a whole. Hence, for a relation to subsist\nbetween my organism and an object external to me, it is by no means\nnecessary that something of the object should slip into me, or make\nan impression on my mind, like a signet-ring on wax. The question,\nHow do I gain knowledge of that tree ten feet away from me, is utterly\nmisleading. It springs from the view that the boundaries of my body\nare absolute barriers, through which information about external\nthings filters into me. The forces which are active within my body\nare the same as those which exist outside. I am, therefore, really\nidentical with the objects; not, however, I in so far as I am subject\nof perception, but I in so far as I am a part within the universal\ncosmic process. The percept of the tree belongs to the same whole as\nmy Self. The universal cosmic process produces alike, here the percept\nof the tree, and there the percept of my Self. Were I a world-creator\ninstead of a world-knower, subject and object (percept and self) would\noriginate in one act. For they condition one another reciprocally. As\nworld-knower I can discover the common element in both, so far as\nthey are complementary aspects of the world, only through thought\nwhich by means of concepts relates the one to the other.\n\nThe most difficult to drive from the field are the so-called\nphysiological proofs of the subjectivity of our percepts. When I\nexert pressure on the skin of my body, I experience it as a pressure\nsensation. This same pressure can be sensed as light by the eye,\nas sound by the ear. I experience an electrical shock by the eye\nas light, by the ear as sound, by the nerves of the skin as touch,\nand by the nose as a smell of phosphorus. What follows from these\nfacts? Only this: I experience an electrical shock, or, as the case\nmay be, a pressure followed by a light, or a sound, or, it may be,\na certain smell, etc. If there were no eye present, then no light\nquality would accompany the perception of the mechanical vibrations in\nmy environment; without the presence of the ear, no sound, etc. But\nwhat right have we to say that in the absence of sense-organs the\nwhole process would not exist at all? All those who, from the fact\nthat an electrical process causes a sensation of light in the eye,\nconclude that what we sense as light is only a mechanical process of\nmotion, forget that they are only arguing from one percept to another,\nand not at all to something altogether transcending percepts. Just as\nwe can say that the eye perceives a mechanical process of motion in\nits surroundings as light, so we can affirm that every change in an\nobject, determined by natural law, is perceived by us as a process of\nmotion. If I draw twelve pictures of a horse on the circumference of\na rotating disc, reproducing exactly the positions which the horse's\nbody successively assumes in movement, I can, by rotating the disc,\nproduce the illusion of movement. I need only look through an opening\nin such a way that, at regular intervals, I perceive the successive\npositions of the horse. I perceive, not separate pictures of twelve\nhorses, but one picture of a single galloping horse.\n\nThe above-mentioned physiological facts cannot, therefore, throw\nany light on the relation of percept to idea. Hence, we must seek a\nrelation some other way.\n\nThe moment a percept appears in my field of consciousness, thought,\ntoo, becomes active in me. A member of my thought-system, a definite\nintuition, a concept, connects itself with the percept. When, next,\nthe percept disappears from my field of vision, what remains? The\nintuition, with the reference to the particular percept which it\nacquired in the moment of perception. The degree of vividness with\nwhich I can subsequently recall this reference depends on the manner in\nwhich my mental and bodily organism is working. An idea is nothing but\nan intuition related to a particular percept; it is a concept which\nwas once connected with a certain percept, and which retains this\nreference to the percept. My concept of a lion is not constructed out\nof my percepts of a lion; but my idea of a lion is formed under the\nguidance of the percepts. I can teach someone to form the concept of\na lion without his ever having seen a lion, but I can never give him\na living idea of it without the help of his own perception.\n\nAn idea is therefore nothing but an individualised concept. And now\nwe can see how real objects can be represented to us by ideas. The\nfull reality of a thing is present to us in the moment of observation\nthrough the combination of concept and percept. The concept acquires\nby means of the percept an individualised form, a relation to this\nparticular percept. In this individualised form which carries with it,\nas an essential feature, the reference to the percept, it continues to\nexist in us and constitutes the idea of the thing in question. If we\ncome across a second thing with which the same concept connects itself,\nwe recognise the second as being of the same kind as the first; if we\ncome across the same thing twice, we find in our conceptual system,\nnot merely a corresponding concept, but the individualised concept\nwith its characteristic relation to this same object, and thus we\nrecognise the object again.\n\nThe idea, then, stands between the percept and the concept. It is\nthe determinate concept which points to the percept.\n\nThe sum of my ideas may be called my experience. The man who has the\ngreater number of individualised concepts will be the man of richer\nexperience. A man who lacks all power of intuition is not capable of\nacquiring experience. The objects simply disappear again from the\nfield of his consciousness, because he lacks the concepts which he\nought to bring into relation with them. On the other hand, a man whose\nfaculty of thought is well developed, but whose perception functions\nbadly owing to his clumsy sense-organs, will be no better able to\ngain experience. He can, it is true, by one means and another acquire\nconcepts; but the living reference to particular objects is lacking\nto his intuitions. The unthinking traveller and the student absorbed\nin abstract conceptual systems are alike incapable of acquiring a\nrich experience.\n\nReality presents itself to us as the union of percept and concept;\nand the subjective representation of this reality presents itself to\nus as idea.\n\nIf our personality expressed itself only in cognition, the totality of\nall that is objective would be contained in percept, concept and idea.\n\nHowever, we are not satisfied merely to refer percepts, by means\nof thinking, to concepts, but we relate them also to our private\nsubjectivity, our individual Ego. The expression of this relation to us\nas individuals is feeling, which manifests itself as pleasure and pain.\n\nThinking and feeling correspond to the two-fold nature of our being\nto which reference has already been made. By means of thought we take\nan active part in the universal cosmic process. By means of feeling\nwe withdraw ourselves into the narrow precincts of our own being.\n\nThought links us to the world; feeling leads us back into ourselves\nand thus makes us individuals. Were we merely thinking and\nperceiving beings, our whole life would flow along in monotonous\nindifference. Could we only know ourselves as Selves, we should\nbe totally indifferent to ourselves. It is only because with\nself-knowledge we experience self-feeling, and with the perception of\nobjects pleasure and pain, that we live as individuals whose existence\nis not exhausted by the conceptual relations in which they stand to\nthe rest of the world, but who have a special value in themselves.\n\nOne might be tempted to regard the life of feeling as something more\nrichly saturated with reality than the apprehension of the world by\nthought. But the reply to this is that the life of feeling, after all,\nhas this richer meaning only for my individual self. For the universe\nas a whole my feelings can be of value only if, as percepts of myself,\nthey enter into connection with a concept and in this roundabout way\nbecome links in the cosmos.\n\nOur life is a continual oscillation between our share in the universal\nworld-process and our own individual existence. The farther we ascend\ninto the universal nature of thought where the individual, at last,\ninterests us only as an example, an instance, of the concept, the\nmore the character of something individual, of the quite determinate,\nunique personality, becomes lost in us. The farther we descend into the\ndepths of our own private life and allow the vibrations of our feelings\nto accompany all our experiences of the outer world, the more we cut\nourselves off from the universal life. True individuality belongs\nto him whose feelings reach up to the farthest possible extent into\nthe region of the ideal. There are men in whom even the most general\nideas still bear that peculiar personal tinge which shows unmistakably\ntheir connection with their author. There are others whose concepts\ncome before us as devoid of any trace of individual colouring as if\nthey had not been produced by a being of flesh and blood at all.\n\nEven ideas give to our conceptual life an individual stamp. Each\none of us has his special standpoint from which he looks out on the\nworld. His concepts link themselves to his percepts. He has his own\nspecial way of forming general concepts. This special character\nresults for each of us from his special standpoint in the world,\nfrom the way in which the range of his percepts is dependent on the\nplace in the whole where he exists. The conditions of individuality\nhere indicated, we call the milieu.\n\nThis special character of our experience must be distinguished from\nanother which depends on our peculiar organisation. Each of us, as we\nknow, is organised as a unique, fully determined individual. Each of\nus combines special feelings, and these in the most varying degrees\nof intensity, with his percepts. This is just the individual element\nin the personality of each of us. It is what remains over when we\nhave allowed fully for all the determining factors in our milieu.\n\nA life of feeling, wholly devoid of thought, would gradually lose\nall connection with the world. But man is meant to be a whole, and\nknowledge of objects will go hand-in-hand for him with the development\nand education of the feeling-side of his nature.\n\nFeeling is the means whereby, in the first instance, concepts gain\nconcrete life.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nARE THERE ANY LIMITS TO KNOWLEDGE?\n\n\nWe have established that the elements for the explanation of reality\nare to be taken from the two spheres of perception and thought. It\nis due, as we have seen, to our organisation that the full totality\nof reality, including our own selves as subjects, appears at first\nas a duality. Knowledge transcends this duality by fusing the two\nelements of reality, the percept and the concept, into the complete\nthing. Let us call the manner in which the world presents itself to\nus, before by means of knowledge it has taken on its true nature,\n\"the world of appearance,\" in distinction from the unified whole\ncomposed of percept and concept. We can then say, The world is given\nto us as a duality (Dualism), and knowledge transforms it into a unity\n(Monism). A philosophy which starts from this basal principle may\nbe called a Monistic philosophy, or Monism. Opposed to this is the\ntheory of two worlds, or Dualism. The latter does not, by any means,\nassume merely that there are two sides of a single reality, which\nare kept apart by our organisation, but that there are two worlds\ntotally distinct from one another. It then tries to find in one of\nthese two worlds the principle of explanation for the other.\n\nDualism rests on a false conception of what we call knowledge. It\ndivides the whole of reality into two spheres, each of which has its\nown laws, and it leaves these two worlds standing outside one another.\n\nIt is from a Dualism such as this that there arises the distinction\nbetween the object of perception and the thing-in-itself, which\nKant introduced into philosophy, and which, to the present day, we\nhave not succeeded in expelling. According to our interpretation,\nit is due to the nature of our organisation that a particular\nobject can be given to us only as a percept. Thought transcends this\nparticularity by assigning to each percept its proper place in the\nworld as a whole. As long as we determine the separate parts of the\ncosmos as percepts, we are simply following, in this sorting out,\na law of our subjective constitution. If, however, we regard all\npercepts, taken together, merely as one part, and contrast with this\na second part, viz., the things-in-themselves, then our philosophy\nis building castles-in-the-air. We are then engaged in mere playing\nwith concepts. We construct an artificial opposition, but we can find\nno content for the second of these opposites, seeing that no content\nfor a particular thing can be found except in perception.\n\nEvery kind of reality which is assumed to exist outside the sphere of\nperception and conception must be relegated to the limbo of unverified\nhypotheses. To this category belongs the \"thing-in-itself.\" It\nis, of course, quite natural that a Dualistic thinker should be\nunable to find the connection between the world-principle which he\nhypothetically assumes and the facts that are given in experience. For\nthe hypothetical world-principle itself a content can be found only\nby borrowing it from experience and shutting one's eyes to the fact of\nthe borrowing. Otherwise it remains an empty and meaningless concept,\na mere form without content. In this case the Dualistic thinker\ngenerally asserts that the content of this concept is inaccessible to\nour knowledge. We can know only that such a content exists, but not\nwhat it is. In either case it is impossible to transcend Dualism. Even\nthough one were to import a few abstract elements from the world of\nexperience into the content of the thing-in-itself, it would still\nremain impossible to reduce the rich concrete life of experience\nto those few elements, which are, after all, themselves taken from\nexperience. Du Bois-Reymond lays it down that the imperceptible\natoms of matter produce sensation and feeling by means of their\nposition and motion, and then infers from this premise that we\ncan never find a satisfactory explanation of how matter and motion\nproduce sensation and feeling, for \"it is absolutely and for ever\nunintelligible that it should be other than indifferent to a number\nof atoms of carbon, hydrogen, and nitrogen, etc., how they lie and\nmove, how they lay or moved, or how they will lie and will move. It\nis in no way intelligible how consciousness can come into existence\nthrough their interaction.\" This conclusion is characteristic of the\nwhole tendency of this school of thought. Position and motion are\nabstracted from the rich world of percepts. They are then transferred\nto the fictitious world of atoms. And then we are astonished that we\nfail to evolve concrete life out of this principle of our own making,\nwhich we have borrowed from the world of percepts.\n\nThat the Dualist, working as he does with a completely empty concept\nof the thing-in-itself, can reach no explanation of the world, follows\nfrom the very definition of his principle which has been given above.\n\nIn any case, the Dualist finds it necessary to set impassable barriers\nto our faculty of knowledge. A follower of the Monistic theory of\nthe world knows that all he needs to explain any given phenomenon in\nthe world is to be found within this world itself. What prevents him\nfrom finding it can be only chance limitations in space and time,\nor defects of his organisation, i.e., not of human organisation in\ngeneral, but only of his own.\n\nIt follows from the concept of knowledge, as defined by us, that\nthere can be no talk of any limits of knowledge. Knowledge is\nnot a concern of the universe in general, but one which men must\nsettle for themselves. External things demand no explanation. They\nexist and act on one another according to laws which thought can\ndiscover. They exist in indivisible unity with these laws. But we,\nin our self-hood, confront them, grasping at first only what we\nhave called percepts. However, within ourselves we find the power\nto discover also the other part of reality. Only when the Self has\ncombined for itself the two elements of reality which are indivisibly\nbound up with one another in the world, is our thirst for knowledge\nstilled. The Self is then again in contact with reality.\n\nThe presuppositions for the development of knowledge thus exist through\nand for the Self. It is the Self which sets itself the problems of\nknowledge. It takes them from thought, an element which in itself is\nabsolutely clear and transparent. If we set ourselves questions which\nwe cannot answer, it must be because the content of the questions\nis not in all respects clear and distinct. It is not the world which\nsets questions to us, but we who set them to ourselves.\n\nI can imagine that it would be quite impossible for me to answer a\nquestion which I happened to find written down somewhere, without\nknowing the universe of discourse from which the content of the\nquestion is taken.\n\nIn knowledge we are concerned with questions which arise for us\nthrough the fact that a world of percepts, conditioned by time,\nspace, and our subjective organisation, stands over against a\nworld of concepts expressing the totality of the universe. Our task\nconsists in the assimilation to one another of these two spheres,\nwith both of which we are familiar. There is no room here for talking\nabout limits of knowledge. It may be that, at a particular moment,\nthis or that remains unexplained because, through chance obstacles,\nwe are prevented from perceiving the things involved. What is not\nfound to-day, however, may easily be found to-morrow. The limits\ndue to these causes are only contingent, and must be overcome by the\nprogress of perception and thought.\n\nDualism makes the mistake of transferring the opposition of subject\nand object, which has meaning only within the perceptual world,\nto pure conceptual entities outside this world. Now the distinct\nand separate things in the perceptual world remain separated only so\nlong as the perceiver refrains from thinking. For thought cancels all\nseparation and reveals it as due to purely subjective conditions. The\nDualist, therefore, transfers to entities transcending the perceptual\nworld abstract determinations which, even in the perceptual world,\nhave no absolute, but only relative, validity. He thus divides\nthe two factors concerned in the process of knowledge, viz.,\npercept and concept, into four: (1) the object in itself; (2) the\npercept which the subject has of the object; (3) the subject; (4)\nthe concept which relates the percept to the object in itself. The\nrelation between subject and object is \"real\"; the subject is really\n(dynamically) influenced by the object. This real process does not\nappear in consciousness. But it evokes in the subject a response\nto the stimulation from the object. The result of this response is\nthe percept. This, at length, appears in consciousness. The object\nhas an objective (independent of the subject) reality, the percept\na subjective reality. This subjective reality is referred by the\nsubject to the object. This reference is an ideal one. Dualism thus\ndivides the process of knowledge into two parts. The one part, viz.,\nthe production of the perceptual object by the thing-in-itself, he\nconceives of as taking place outside consciousness, whereas the other,\nthe combination of percept with concept and the latter's reference to\nthe thing-in-itself, takes place, according to him, in consciousness.\n\nWith such presuppositions, it is clear why the Dualist regards his\nconcepts merely as subjective representations of what is really\nexternal to his consciousness. The objectively real process in the\nsubject by means of which the percept is produced, and still more\nthe objective relations between things-in-themselves, remain for the\nDualist inaccessible to direct knowledge. According to him, man can\nget only conceptual representations of the objectively real. The bond\nof unity which connects things-in-themselves with one another, and\nalso objectively with the individual minds (as things-in-themselves)\nof each of us, exists beyond our consciousness in a Divine Being of\nwhom, once more, we have merely a conceptual representation.\n\nThe Dualist believes that the whole world would be dissolved into\na mere abstract scheme of concepts, did he not posit the existence\nof real connections beside the conceptual ones. In other words, the\nideal principles which thinking discovers are too airy for the Dualist,\nand he seeks, in addition, real principles with which to support them.\n\nLet us examine these real principles a little more closely. The\nna\u00efve man (Na\u00efve Realist) regards the objects of sense-experience as\nrealities. The fact that his hands can grasp, and his eyes see, these\nobjects is for him sufficient guarantee of their reality. \"Nothing\nexists that cannot be perceived\" is, in fact, the first axiom of\nthe na\u00efve man; and it is held to be equally valid in its converse:\n\"Everything which is perceived exists.\" The best proof for this\nassertion is the na\u00efve man's belief in immortality and in ghosts. He\nthinks of the soul as a fine kind of matter perceptible by the senses\nwhich, in special circumstances, may actually become visible to the\nordinary man (belief in ghosts).\n\nIn contrast with this, his real, world, the Na\u00efve Realist regards\neverything else, especially the world of ideas, as unreal, or \"merely\nideal.\" What we add to objects by thinking is merely thoughts about\nthe objects. Thought adds nothing real to the percept.\n\nBut it is not only with reference to the existence of things that the\nna\u00efve man regards perception as the sole guarantee of reality, but\nalso with reference to the existence of processes. A thing, according\nto him, can act on another only when a force actually present to\nperception issues from the one and acts upon the other. The older\nphysicists thought that very fine kinds of substances emanate from\nthe objects and penetrate through the sense-organs into the soul. The\nactual perception of these substances is impossible only because\nof the coarseness of our sense-organs relatively to the fineness of\nthese substances. In principle, the reason for attributing reality\nto these substances was the same as that for attributing it to the\nobjects of the sensible world, viz., their kind of existence, which\nwas conceived to be analogous to that of perceptual reality.\n\nThe self-contained being of ideas is not thought of by the na\u00efve\nmind as real in the same sense. An object conceived \"merely in idea\"\nis regarded as a chimera until sense-perception can furnish proof\nof its reality. In short, the na\u00efve man demands, in addition to the\nideal evidence of his thinking, the real evidence of his senses. In\nthis need of the na\u00efve man lies the ground for the origin of the\nbelief in revelation. The God whom we apprehend by thought remains\nalways merely our idea of God. The na\u00efve consciousness demands that\nGod should manifest Himself in ways accessible to the senses. God\nmust appear in the flesh, and must attest his Godhead to our senses\nby the changing of water into wine.\n\nEven knowledge itself is conceived by the na\u00efve mind as a process\nanalogous to sense-perception. Things, it is thought, make an\nimpression on the mind, or send out copies of themselves which enter\nthrough our senses, etc.\n\nWhat the na\u00efve man can perceive with his senses he regards as real,\nand what he cannot perceive (God, soul, knowledge, etc.) he regards\nas analogous to what he can perceive.\n\nOn the basis of Na\u00efve Realism, science can consist only in an exact\ndescription of the content of perception. Concepts are only means to\nthis end. They exist to provide ideal counterparts of percepts. With\nthe things themselves they have nothing to do. For the Na\u00efve Realist\nonly the individual tulips, which we can see, are real. The universal\nidea of tulip is to him an abstraction, the unreal thought-picture\nwhich the mind constructs for itself out of the characteristics common\nto all tulips.\n\nNa\u00efve Realism, with its fundamental principle of the reality of all\npercepts, contradicts experience, which teaches us that the content of\npercepts is of a transitory nature. The tulip I see is real to-day;\nin a year it will have vanished into nothingness. What persists is\nthe species \"tulip.\" This species is, however, for the Na\u00efve Realist\nmerely an idea, not a reality. Thus this theory of the world finds\nitself in the paradoxical position of seeing its realities arise and\nperish, while that which, by contrast with its realities, it regards\nas unreal endures. Hence Na\u00efve Realism is compelled to acknowledge the\nexistence of something ideal by the side of percepts. It must include\nwithin itself entities which cannot be perceived by the senses. In\nadmitting them, it escapes contradicting itself by conceiving their\nexistence as analogous to that of objects of sense. Such hypothetical\nrealities are the invisible forces by means of which the objects of\nsense-perception act on one another. Another such reality is heredity,\nthe effects of which survive the individual, and which is the reason\nwhy from the individual a new being develops which is similar to\nit, and by means of which the species is maintained. The soul, the\nlife-principle permeating the organic body, is another such reality\nwhich the na\u00efve mind is always found conceiving in analogy to realities\nof sense-perception. And, lastly, the Divine Being, as conceived by the\nna\u00efve mind, is such a hypothetical entity. The Deity is thought of as\nacting in a manner exactly corresponding to that which we can perceive\nin man himself, i.e., the Deity is conceived anthropomorphically.\n\nModern Physics traces sensations back to the movements of the\nsmallest particles of bodies and of an infinitely fine substance,\ncalled ether. What we experience, e.g., as warmth is a movement of\nthe parts of a body which causes the warmth in the space occupied by\nthat body. Here again something imperceptible is conceived on the\nanalogy of what is perceptible. Thus, in terms of perception, the\nanalogon to the concept \"body\" is, say, the interior of a room, shut\nin on all sides, in which elastic balls are moving in all directions,\nimpinging one on another, bouncing on and off the walls, etc.\n\nWithout such assumptions the world of the Na\u00efve Realist would collapse\ninto a disconnected chaos of percepts, without mutual relations,\nand having no unity within itself. It is clear, however, that Na\u00efve\nRealism can make these assumptions only by contradicting itself. If\nit would remain true to its fundamental principle, that only what\nis perceived is real, then it ought not to assume a reality where\nit perceives nothing. The imperceptible forces of which perceptible\nthings are the bearers are, in fact, illegitimate hypotheses from\nthe standpoint of Na\u00efve Realism. But because Na\u00efve Realism knows no\nother realities, it invests its hypothetical forces with perceptual\ncontent. It thus transfers a form of existence (the existence of\npercepts) to a sphere where the only means of making any assertion\nconcerning such existence, viz., sense-perception, is lacking.\n\nThis self-contradictory theory leads to Metaphysical Realism. The\nlatter constructs, beside the perceptible reality, an imperceptible\none which it conceives on the analogy of the former. Metaphysical\nRealism is, therefore, of necessity Dualistic.\n\nWherever the Metaphysical Realist observes a relation between\nperceptible things (mutual approach through movement, the\nentrance of an object into consciousness, etc.), there he posits a\nreality. However, the relation of which he becomes aware cannot be\nperceived but only expressed by means of thought. The ideal relation\nis thereupon arbitrarily assimilated to something perceptible. Thus,\naccording to this theory, the world is composed of the objects of\nperception which are in ceaseless flux, arising and disappearing,\nand of imperceptible forces by which the perceptible objects are\nproduced, and which are permanent.\n\nMetaphysical Realism is a self-contradictory mixture of Na\u00efve Realism\nand Idealism. Its forces are imperceptible entities endowed with the\nqualities proper to percepts. The Metaphysical Realist has made up\nhis mind to acknowledge in addition to the sphere for the existence\nof which he has an instrument of knowledge in sense-perception,\nthe existence of another sphere for which this instrument fails, and\nwhich can be known only by means of thought. But he cannot make up\nhis mind at the same time to acknowledge that the mode of existence\nwhich thought reveals, viz., the concept (or idea), has equal rights\nwith percepts. If we are to avoid the contradiction of imperceptible\npercepts, we must admit that, for us, the relations which thought\ntraces between percepts can have no other mode of existence than that\nof concepts. If one rejects the untenable part of Metaphysical Realism,\nthere remains the concept of the world as the aggregate of percepts\nand their conceptual (ideal) relations. Metaphysical Realism, then,\nmerges itself in a view of the world according to which the principle\nof perceptibility holds for percepts, and that of conceivability\nfor the relations between the percepts. This view of the world\nhas no room, in addition to the perceptual and conceptual worlds,\nfor a third sphere in which both principles, the so-called \"real\"\nprinciple and the \"ideal\" principle, are simultaneously valid.\n\nWhen the Metaphysical Realist asserts that, beside the ideal relation\nbetween the perceived object and the perceiving subject, there\nmust be a real relation between the percept as \"thing-in-itself\"\nand the subject as \"thing-in-itself\" (the so-called individual\nmind), he is basing his assertion on the false assumption of a real\nprocess, imperceptible but analogous to the processes in the world\nof percepts. Further, when the Metaphysical Realist asserts that we\nstand in a conscious ideal relation to our world of percepts, but\nthat to the real world we can have only a dynamic (force) relation,\nhe repeats the mistake we have already criticised. We can talk of a\ndynamic relation only within the world of percepts (in the sphere of\nthe sense of touch), but not outside that world.\n\nLet us call the view which we have just characterised, and into\nwhich Metaphysical Realism merges when it discards its contradictory\nelements, Monism, because it combines one-sided Realism and Idealism\ninto a higher unity.\n\nFor Na\u00efve Realism, the real world is an aggregate of percepts; for\nMetaphysical Realism, reality belongs not only to percepts but also to\nimperceptible forces; Monism replaces forces by ideal relations which\nare supplied by thought. These relations are the laws of nature. A law\nof nature is nothing but the conceptual expression for the connection\nof certain percepts.\n\nMonism is never called upon to ask whether there are any principles of\nexplanation for reality other than percepts and concepts. The Monist\nknows that in the whole realm of the real there is no occasion for\nthis question. In the perceptual world, as immediately apprehended, he\nsees one-half of reality; in the union of this world with the world of\nconcepts he finds full reality. The Metaphysical Realist might object\nthat, relatively to our organisation, our knowledge may be complete in\nitself, that no part may be lacking, but that we do not know how the\nworld appears to a mind organised differently from our own. To this\nthe Monist will reply, Maybe there are intelligences other than human;\nand maybe also that their percepts are different from ours, if they\nhave perception at all. But this is irrelevant to me for the following\nreasons. Through my perceptions, i.e., through this specifically human\nmode of perception, I, as subject, am confronted with the object. The\nnexus of things is thereby broken. The subject reconstructs the nexus\nby means of thought. In doing so it re-inserts itself into the context\nof the world as a whole. As it is only through the Self, as subject,\nthat the whole appears rent in two between percept and concept, the\nreunion of those two factors will give us complete knowledge. For\nbeings with a different perceptual world (e.g., if they had twice\nour number of sense-organs) the nexus would appear broken in another\nplace, and the reconstruction would accordingly have to take a form\nspecifically adapted to such beings. The question concerning the\nlimits of knowledge troubles only Na\u00efve and Metaphysical Realism,\nboth of which see in the contents of mind only ideal representations\nof the real world. For, to these theories, whatever falls outside\nthe subject is something absolute, a self-contained whole, and\nthe subject's mental content is a copy which is wholly external to\nthis absolute. The completeness of knowledge depends on the greater\nor lesser degree of resemblance between the representation and the\nabsolute object. A being with fewer senses than man will perceive less\nof the world, one with more senses will perceive more. The former's\nknowledge will, therefore, be less complete than the latter's.\n\nFor Monism, the situation is different. The point where the unity of\nthe world appears to be rent asunder into subject and object depends\non the organisation of the percipient. The object is not absolute\nbut merely relative to the nature of the subject. The bridging of the\ngap, therefore, can take place only in the quite specific way which\nis characteristic of the human subject. As soon as the Self, which in\nperception is set over against the world, is again re-inserted into the\nworld-nexus by constructive thought, all further questioning ceases,\nhaving been but a result of the separation.\n\nA differently constituted being would have a differently constituted\nknowledge. Our own knowledge suffices to answer the questions which\nresult from our own mental constitution.\n\nMetaphysical Realism must ask, What is it that gives us our\npercepts? What is it that stimulates the subject?\n\nMonism holds that percepts are determined by the subject. But\nin thought the subject has, at the same time, the instrument for\ntranscending this determination of which it is itself the author.\n\nThe Metaphysical Realist is faced by a further difficulty when he\nseeks to explain the similarity of the world-views of different human\nindividuals. He has to ask himself, How is it that my theory of the\nworld, built up out of subjectively determined percepts and out of\nconcepts, turns out to be the same as that which another individual\nis also building up out of these same two subjective factors? How, in\nany case, is it possible for me to argue from my own subjective view\nof the world to that of another human being? The Metaphysical Realist\nthinks he can infer the similarity of the subjective world-views of\ndifferent human beings from their ability to get on with one another\nin practical life. From this similarity of world-views he infers\nfurther the likeness to one another of individual minds, meaning by\n\"individual mind\" the \"I-in-itself\" underlying each subject.\n\nWe have here an inference from a number of effects to the character\nof the underlying causes. We believe that after we have observed\na sufficiently large number of instances, we know the connection\nsufficiently to know how the inferred causes will act in other\ninstances. Such an inference is called an inductive inference. We\nshall be obliged to modify its results, if further observation yields\nsome unexpected fact, because the character of our conclusion is,\nafter all, determined only by the particular details of our actual\nobservations. The Metaphysical Realist asserts that this knowledge\nof causes, though restricted by these conditions, is quite sufficient\nfor practical life.\n\nInductive inference is the fundamental method of modern Metaphysical\nRealism. At one time it was thought that out of concepts we could\nevolve something that would no longer be a concept. It was thought that\nthe metaphysical reals, which Metaphysical Realism after all requires,\ncould be known by means of concepts. This method of philosophising\nis now out of date. Instead it is thought that from a sufficiently\nlarge number of perceptual facts we can infer the character of the\nthing-in-itself which lies behind these facts. Formerly it was from\nconcepts, now it is from percepts, that the Realist seeks to evolve\nthe metaphysically real. Because concepts are before the mind in\ntransparent clearness, it was thought that we might deduce from them\nthe metaphysically real with absolute certainty. Percepts are not\ngiven with the same transparent clearness. Each fresh one is a little\ndifferent from others of the same kind which preceded it. In principle,\ntherefore, anything inferred from past experience is somewhat modified\nby each subsequent experience. The character of the metaphysically real\nthus obtained can therefore be only relatively true, for it is open\nto correction by further instances. The character of Von Hartmann's\nMetaphysics depends on this methodological principle. The motto on\nthe title-page of his first important book is, \"Speculative results\ngained by the inductive method of Science.\"\n\nThe form which the Metaphysical Realist at the present day gives to his\nthings-in-themselves is obtained by inductive inferences. Consideration\nof the process of knowledge has convinced him of the existence of an\nobjectively-real world-nexus, over and above the subjective world which\nwe know by means of percepts and concepts. The nature of this reality\nhe thinks he can determine by inductive inferences from his percepts.\n\n\n\n\nADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nThe unprejudiced study of experience, in perceiving and conceiving,\nsuch as we have attempted to describe it in the preceding chapters,\nis liable to be interfered with again and again by certain ideas which\nspring from the soil of natural science. Thus, taking our stand on\nscience, we say that the eye perceives in the spectrum colours from\nred to violet. But beyond violet there lie rays within the compass\nof the spectrum to which corresponds, not a colour perceived by the\neye, but a chemical effect. Similarly, beyond the rays which make\nus perceive red, there are rays which have only heat effects. These\nand similar phenomena lead, on reflection, to the view that the range\nof man's perceptual world is defined by the range of his senses, and\nthat he would perceive a very different world if he had additional, or\naltogether different, senses. Those who like to indulge in far-roaming\nfancies in this direction, for which the brilliant discoveries\nof recent scientific research provide a highly tempting occasion,\nmay well be led to confess that nothing enters the field of man's\nobservation except what can affect his senses, as these have been\ndetermined by his whole organisation. Man has no right to regard\nhis percepts, limited as these are by his organisation, as in any\nway a standard to which reality must conform. Every new sense would\nconfront him with a different picture of reality. Within its proper\nlimits, this is a wholly justified view. But if anyone lets himself\nbe confused by this view in the unprejudiced study of the relation\nof percept and concept, as set forth in these chapters, he blocks\nthe path for himself to a knowledge of man and the world which is\nrooted in reality. The experience of the essential nature of thought,\ni.e., the active construction of the world of concepts, is something\nwholly different from the experience of a perceptible object through\nthe senses. Whatever additional senses man might have, not one would\ngive him reality, if his thinking did not organise with its concepts\nwhatever he perceived by means of such a sense. Every sense, whatever\nits kind, provided only it is organised by thought, enables man to\nlive right in the real. The fancy-picture of other perceptual worlds,\nmade possible by other senses, has nothing to do with the problem of\nhow it is that man stands in the midst of reality. We must clearly\nunderstand that every perceptual picture of the world owes its form\nto the physical organisation of the percipient, but that only the\npercepts which have been organised by the living labour of thought\nlead us into reality. Fanciful speculations concerning the way\nthe world would appear to other than human souls, can give us no\noccasion to want to understand man's relation to the world. Such a\ndesire comes only with the recognition that every percept presents\nonly a part of the reality it contains, and that, consequently,\nit leads us away from its own proper reality. This recognition is\nsupplemented by the further one that thinking leads us into the part\nof reality which the percept conceals in itself. Another difficulty\nin the way of the unprejudiced study of the relation we have here\ndescribed, between percept and concept as elaborated by thought, may\nbe met with occasionally, when in the field of physics the necessity\narises of speaking, not of immediately perceptible elements, but\nof non-perceptible magnitudes, such as, e.g., lines of electric or\nmagnetic force. It may seem as if the elements of reality of which\nphysicists speak, had no connection either with what is perceptible,\nor with the concepts which active thinking has elaborated. Yet such\na view would depend on self-deception. The main point is that all\nthe results of physical research, except illegitimate hypotheses\nwhich ought to be excluded, have been gained through perceiving and\nconceiving. Entities which are seemingly non-perceptible, are referred\nby the physicists' sound instinct for knowledge to the field in which\nactual percepts lie, and they are dealt with in thought by means of the\nconcepts which are commonly applied in this field. The magnitudes in\na field of electric or magnetic force are reached, in their essence,\nby no other cognitive process than the one which connects percept and\nconcept.--An increase or a modification of human senses would yield\na different perceptual picture, an enrichment or a modification of\nhuman experience. But genuine knowledge could be gained out of this\nnew experience only through the mutual co-operation of concept and\npercept. The deepening of knowledge depends on the powers of intuition\nwhich express themselves in thinking (see page 90). Intuition may,\nin those experiences in which thinking expresses itself, dive\neither into deeper or shallower levels of reality. An expansion of\nthe perceptual picture may supply stimuli for, and thus indirectly\npromote, this diving of intuition. But this diving into the depth,\nthrough which we attain reality, ought never to be confused with the\ncontrast between a wider and a narrower perceptual picture, which\nalways contains only half of reality, as that is conditioned by the\nstructure of the knower's organism. Those who do not lose themselves\nin abstractions will understand how for a knowledge of human nature\nthe fact is relevant, that physics must infer the existence, in the\nfield of percepts, of elements to which no sense is adapted as it is to\ncolour or sound. Human nature, taken concretely, is determined not only\nby what, in virtue of his physical organisation, man opposes to himself\nas immediate percept, but also by all else which he excludes from\nthis immediate percept. Just as life needs unconscious sleep alongside\nof conscious waking experience, so man's experience of himself needs\nover and above the sphere of his sense-perception another sphere--and\na much bigger one--of non-perceptible elements belonging to the same\nfield from which the percepts of the senses come. Implicitly all this\nwas already laid down in the original argument of this book. The\nauthor adds the present amplification of the argument, because he\nhas found by experience that some readers have not read attentively\nenough. It is to be remembered, too, that the idea of perception,\ndeveloped in this book, is not to be confused with the idea of external\nsense-perception which is but a special case of the former. The reader\nwill gather from what has preceded, but even more from what will be\nexpounded later, that everything is here taken as \"percept\" which\nsensuously or spiritually enters into man's experience, so long as it\nhas not yet been seized upon by the actively constructed concept. No\n\"senses,\" as we ordinarily understand the term, are necessary in\norder to have percepts of a psychical or spiritual kind. It may be\nurged that this extension of ordinary usage is illegitimate. But the\nextension is absolutely indispensable, unless we are to be prevented\nby the current sense of a word from enlarging our knowledge of certain\nrealms of facts. If we use \"percept\" only as meaning \"sense-percept,\"\nwe shall never advance beyond sense-percepts to a concept fit for the\npurposes of knowledge. It is sometimes necessary to enlarge a concept\nin order that it may get its appropriate meaning within a narrower\nfield. Again, it is at times necessary to add to the original content\nof a concept, in order that the original thought may be justified\nor, perhaps, readjusted. Thus we find it said here in this book:\n\"An idea is nothing but an individualised concept.\" It has been\nobjected that this is a solecism. But this terminology is necessary\nif we are to find out what an idea really is. How can we expect any\nprogress in knowledge, if every one who finds himself compelled to\nreadjust concepts, is to be met by the objection: \"This is a solecism\"?\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE REALITY OF FREEDOM\n\n\nVIII\n\nTHE FACTORS OF LIFE\n\n\nLet us recapitulate the results gained in the previous chapters. The\nworld appears to man as a multiplicity, as an aggregate of separate\nentities. He himself is one of these entities, a thing among\nthings. Of this structure of the world we say simply that it is\ngiven, and inasmuch as we do not construct it by conscious activity,\nbut simply find it, we say that it consists of percepts. Within this\nworld of percepts we perceive ourselves. This percept of Self would\nremain merely one among many other percepts, did it not give rise to\nsomething which proves capable of connecting all percepts one with\nanother and, therefore, the aggregate of all other percepts with the\npercept of Self. This something which emerges is no longer a mere\npercept; neither is it, like percepts, simply given. It is produced\nby our activity. It appears, in the first instance, bound up with\nwhat each of us perceives as his Self. In its inner significance,\nhowever, it transcends the Self. It adds to the separate percepts\nideal determinations, which, however, are related to one another,\nand which are grounded in a whole. What self-perception yields\nis ideally determined by this something in the same way as all\nother percepts, and placed as subject, or \"I,\" over against the\nobjects. This something is thought, and the ideal determinations\nare the concepts and ideas. Thought, therefore, first manifests\nitself in connection with the percept of self. But it is not merely\nsubjective, for the Self characterises itself as subject only with\nthe help of thought. This relation of the Self to itself by means\nof thought is one of the fundamental determinations of our personal\nlives. Through it we lead a purely ideal existence. By means of it\nwe are aware of ourselves as thinking beings. This determination of\nour lives would remain a purely conceptual (logical) one, if it were\nnot supplemented by other determinations of our Selves. Our lives\nwould then exhaust themselves in establishing ideal connections\nbetween percepts themselves, and between them and ourselves. If we\ncall this establishment of an ideal relation an \"act of cognition,\"\nand the resulting condition of ourselves \"knowledge,\" then, assuming\nthe above supposition to be true, we should have to consider ourselves\nas beings who merely apprehend or know.\n\nThe supposition is, however, untrue. We relate percepts to ourselves\nnot merely ideally, through concepts, but also, as we have already\nseen, through feeling. In short, the content of our lives is not merely\nconceptual. The Na\u00efve Realist holds that the personality actually\nlives more genuinely in the life of feeling than in the purely ideal\nactivity of knowledge. From his point of view he is quite right in\ninterpreting the matter in this way. Feeling plays on the subjective\nside exactly the part which percepts play on the objective side. From\nthe principle of Na\u00efve Realism, that everything is real which can be\nperceived, it follows that feeling is the guarantee of the reality of\none's own personality. Monism, however, must bestow on feeling the\nsame supplementation which it considers necessary for percepts, if\nthese are to stand to us for reality in its full nature. For Monism,\nfeeling is an incomplete reality, which, in the form in which it\nfirst appears to us, lacks as yet its second factor, the concept or\nidea. This is why, in actual life, feelings, like percepts, appear\nprior to knowledge. At first, we have merely a feeling of existence;\nand it is only in the course of our gradual development, that we\nattain to the point at which the concept of Self emerges from within\nthe blind mass of feelings which fills our existence. However, what\nfor us does not appear until later, is from the first indissolubly\nbound up with our feelings. This is how the na\u00efve man comes to believe\nthat in feeling he grasps existence immediately, in knowledge only\nmediately. The development of the affective life, therefore, appears\nto him more important than anything else. Not until he has grasped\nthe unity of the world through feeling will he believe that he has\ncomprehended it. He attempts to make feeling rather than thought\nthe instrument of knowledge. Now a feeling is entirely individual,\nsomething equivalent to a percept. Hence a philosophy of feeling\nmakes a cosmic principle out of something which has significance only\nwithin my own personality. Anyone who holds this view attempts to\ninfuse his own self into the whole world. What the Monist strives to\ngrasp by means of concepts the philosopher of feeling tries to attain\nthrough feeling, and he looks on his own felt union with objects as\nmore immediate than knowledge.\n\nThe tendency just described, the philosophy of feeling, is\nMysticism. The error in this view is that it seeks to possess by\nimmediate experience what must be known, that it seeks to develop\nfeeling, which is individual, into a universal principle.\n\nA feeling is a purely individual activity. It is the relation of\nthe external world to the subject, in so far as this relation finds\nexpression in a purely subjective experience.\n\nThere is yet another expression of human personality. The Self, through\nthought, takes part in the universal world-life. Through thought it\nestablishes purely ideal (conceptual) relations between percepts and\nitself, and between itself and percepts. In feeling, it has immediate\nexperience of the relation of objects to itself as subject. In will,\nthe opposite is the case. In volition, we are concerned once more with\na percept, viz., that of the individual relation of the self to what\nis objective. Whatever in the act of will is not an ideal factor,\nis just as much mere object of perception as is any object in the\nexternal world.\n\nNevertheless, the Na\u00efve Realist believes here again that he has\nbefore him something far more real than can ever be attained by\nthought. He sees in the will an element in which he is immediately\naware of an activity, a causation, in contrast with thought which\nafterwards grasps this activity in conceptual form. On this view, the\nrealisation by the Self of its will is a process which is experienced\nimmediately. The adherent of this philosophy believes that in the will\nhe has really got hold of one end of reality. Whereas he can follow\nother occurrences only from the outside by means of perception,\nhe is confident that in his will he experiences a real process\nquite immediately. The mode of existence presented to him by the\nwill within himself becomes for him the fundamental reality of the\nuniverse. His own will appears to him as a special case of the general\nworld-process; hence the latter is conceived as a universal will. The\nwill becomes the principle of reality just as, in Mysticism, feeling\nbecomes the principle of knowledge. This kind of theory is called\nVoluntarism (Thelism). It makes something which can be experienced\nonly individually the dominant factor of the world.\n\nVoluntarism can as little be called scientific as can Mysticism. For\nboth assert that the conceptual interpretation of the world is\ninadequate. Both demand, in addition to a principle of being which is\nideal, also a principle which is real. But as perception is our only\nmeans of apprehending these so-called real principles, the assertion\nof Mysticism and Voluntarism coincides with the view that we have\ntwo sources of knowledge, viz., thought and perception, the latter\nfinding individual expression as will and feeling. Since the immediate\nexperiences which flow from the one source cannot be directly absorbed\ninto the thoughts which flow from the other, perception (immediate\nexperience) and thought remain side by side, without any higher\nform of experience to mediate between them. Beside the conceptual\nprinciple to which we attain by means of knowledge, there is also\na real principle which must be immediately experienced. In other\nwords, Mysticism and Voluntarism are both forms of Na\u00efve Realism,\nbecause they subscribe to the doctrine that the immediately perceived\n(experienced) is real. Compared with Na\u00efve Realism in its primitive\nform, they are guilty of the yet further inconsistency of accepting\none definite form of perception (feeling, respectively will) as the\nexclusive means of knowing reality. Yet they can do this only so\nlong as they cling to the general principle that everything that is\nperceived is real. They ought, therefore, to attach an equal value\nto external perception for purposes of knowledge.\n\nVoluntarism turns into Metaphysical Realism, when it asserts the\nexistence of will also in those spheres of reality in which will can no\nlonger, as in the individual subject, be immediately experienced. It\nassumes hypothetically that a principle holds outside subjective\nexperience, for the existence of which, nevertheless, subjective\nexperience is the sole criterion. As a form of Metaphysical Realism,\nVoluntarism is open to the criticism developed in the preceding\nchapter, a criticism which makes it necessary to overcome the\ncontradictory element in every form of Metaphysical Realism, and to\nrecognise that the will is a universal world-process only in so far\nas it is ideally related to the rest of the world.\n\n\n\n\nADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nThe difficulty of seizing the essential nature of thinking by\nobservation lies in this, that it has generally eluded the\nintrospecting mind all too easily by the time that the mind\ntries to bring it into the focus of attention. Nothing but the\nlifeless abstract, the corpse of living thought, then remains for\ninspection. When we consider only this abstract, we find it hard, by\ncontrast, to resist yielding to the mysticism of feeling, or, again,\nto the metaphysics of will, both of which are \"full of life.\" We\nare tempted to regard it as odd that anyone should want to seize\nthe essence of reality in \"mere thoughts.\" But if we once succeed\nin really holding fast the living essence of thinking, we learn to\nunderstand that the self-abandonment to feelings, or the intuiting\nof the will, cannot even be compared with the inward wealth of this\nlife of thinking, which we experience as within itself ever at rest,\nyet at the same time ever in movement. Still less is it possible\nto rank will and feeling above thinking. It is owing precisely to\nthis wealth, to this inward abundance of experience, that the image\nof thinking which presents itself to our ordinary attitude of mind,\nshould appear lifeless and abstract. No other activity of the human\nmind is so easily misapprehended as thinking. Will and feeling still\nfill the mind with warmth even when we live through them again in\nmemory. Thinking all too readily leaves us cold in recollection; it is\nas if the life of the mind had dried out. But this is really nothing\nbut the strongly marked shadow thrown by its luminous, warm nature\npenetrating deeply into the phenomena of the world. This penetration\nis effected by the activity of thinking with a spontaneous outpouring\nof power--a power of spiritual love. There is no room here for the\nobjection that thus to perceive love in the activity of thinking\nis to endow thinking with a feeling and a love which are not part\nof it. This objection is, in truth, a confirmation of the view here\nadvocated. If we turn towards the essential nature of thinking, we find\nin it both feeling and will, and both these in their most profoundly\nreal forms. If we turn away from thinking and towards \"mere\" feeling\nand will, these lose for us their genuine reality. If we are willing\nto make of thinking an intuitive experience, we can do justice, also,\nto experiences of the type of feeling and will. But the mysticism of\nfeeling and the metaphysics of will do not know how to do justice\nto the penetration of reality which partakes at once of intuition\nand of thought. They conclude but too readily that they themselves\nare rooted in reality, but that the intuitive thinker, untouched by\nfeeling, blind to reality, forms out of \"abstract thoughts\" a shadowy,\nchilly picture of the world.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIX\n\nTHE IDEA OF FREEDOM\n\n\nThe concept \"tree\" is conditioned for our knowledge by the percept\n\"tree.\" There is only one determinate concept which I can select from\nthe general system of concepts and apply to a given percept. The\nconnection of concept and percept is mediately and objectively\ndetermined by thought in conformity with the percept. The connection\nbetween a percept and its concept is recognised after the act of\nperception, but the relevance of the one to the other is determined\nby the character of each.\n\nVery different is the result when we consider knowledge, and,\nmore particularly, the relation of man to the world which occurs\nin knowledge. In the preceding chapters the attempt has been made\nto show that an unprejudiced examination of this relation is able to\nthrow light on its nature. A correct understanding of this examination\nleads to the conclusion that thinking may be intuitively apprehended\nin its unique, self-contained nature. Those who find it necessary,\nfor the explanation of thinking as such, to invoke something else,\ne.g., physical brain-processes, or unconscious spiritual processes\nlying behind the conscious thinking which they observe, fail to\ngrasp the facts which an unprejudiced examination yields. When we\nobserve our thinking, we live during the observation immediately\nwithin the essence of a spiritual, self-sustaining activity. Indeed,\nwe may even affirm that if we want to grasp the essential nature of\nSpirit in the form in which it immediately presents itself to man,\nwe need but look at our own self-sustaining thinking.\n\nFor the study of thinking two things coincide which elsewhere must\nalways appear apart, viz., concept and percept. If we fail to see this,\nwe shall be unable to regard the concepts which we have elaborated in\nresponse to percepts as anything but shadowy copies of these percepts,\nand we shall take the percepts as presenting to us reality as it really\nis. We shall, further, build up for ourselves a metaphysical world\nafter the pattern of the world of percepts. We shall, each according\nto his habitual ideas, call this world a world of atoms, or of will,\nor of unconscious spirit, and so on. And we shall fail to notice that\nall the time we have been doing nothing but erecting hypothetically a\nmetaphysical world modeled on the world we perceive. But if we clearly\napprehend what thinking consists in, we shall recognise that percepts\npresent to us only a portion of reality, and that the complementary\nportion which alone imparts to reality its full character as real,\nis experienced by us in the organisation of percepts by thought. We\nshall regard all thought, not as a shadowy copy of reality, but as a\nself-sustaining spiritual essence. We shall be able to say of it, that\nit is revealed to us in consciousness through intuition. Intuition\nis the purely spiritual conscious experience of a purely spiritual\ncontent. It is only through intuition that we can grasp the essence\nof thinking.\n\nTo win through, by means of unprejudiced observation, to the\nrecognition of this truth of the intuitive essence of thinking requires\nan effort. But without this effort we shall not succeed in clearing\nthe way for a theory of the psycho-physical organisation of man. We\nrecognise that this organisation can produce no effect whatever on\nthe essential nature of thinking. At first sight this seems to be\ncontradicted by patent and obvious facts. For ordinary experience,\nhuman thinking occurs only in connection with, and by means of, such\nan organisation. This dependence on psycho-physical organisation is\nso prominent that its true bearing can be appreciated by us only if we\nrecognise, that in the essential nature of thinking this organisation\nplays no part whatever. Once we appreciate this, we can no longer\nfail to notice how peculiar is the relation of human organisation to\nthought. For this organisation contributes nothing to the essential\nnature of thought, but recedes whenever thought becomes active. It\nsuspends its own activity, it yields ground. And the ground thus set\nfree is occupied by thought. The essence which is active in thought has\na two-fold function: first it restricts the human organisation in its\nown activity; next, it steps into the place of that organisation. Yes,\neven the former, the restriction of human organisation, is an effect\nof the activity of thought, and more particularly of that part of\nit which prepares the manifestation of thinking. This explains the\nsense in which thinking has its counterpart in the organisation of\nthe body. Once we perceive this, we can no longer misapprehend the\nsignificance for thinking of this physical counterpart. When we walk\nover soft ground our feet leave deep tracks in the soil. We shall\nnot be tempted to say that the forces of the ground, from below,\nhave formed these tracks. We shall not attribute to these forces any\nshare in the production of the tracks. Just so, if with open minds\nwe observe the essential nature of thinking, we shall not attribute\nany share in that nature to the traces in the physical organism which\nthinking produces in preparing its manifestation through the body. [3]\n\nAn important question, however, confronts us here. If human\norganisation has no part in the essential nature of thinking, what\nis its function within the whole nature of man? Well, the effects\nof thinking upon this organisation have no bearing upon the essence\nof thinking, but they have a bearing upon the origin of the \"I,\" or\nEgo-consciousness, through thinking. Thinking, in its unique character,\nconstitutes the real Ego, but it does not constitute, as such, the\nEgo-consciousness. To see this we have but to study thinking with an\nopen mind. The Ego is to be found in thinking. The Ego-consciousness\narises through the traces which, in the sense above explained, the\nactivity of thinking impresses upon our general consciousness. The\nEgo-consciousness thus arises through the physical organisation. This\nview must not, however, be taken to imply that the Ego-consciousness,\nonce it has arisen, remains dependent on the physical organisation. On\nthe contrary, once it exists it is taken up into thought and shares\nhenceforth thought's spiritual self-subsistence.\n\nThe Ego-consciousness is built upon human organisation. The latter\nis the source of all acts of will. Following out the direction of\nthe preceding exposition, we can gain insight into the connection of\nthought, conscious Ego, and act of will, only by studying first how\nan act of will issues from human organisation. [4]\n\nIn a particular act of will we must distinguish two factors: the\nmotive and the spring of action. The motive is a factor of the nature\nof concept or idea; the spring of action is the factor in will which\nis directly determined in the human organisation. The conceptual\nfactor, or motive, is the momentary determining cause of an act\nof will; the spring of action is the permanent determining factor\nin the individual. The motive of an act of will can be only a pure\nconcept, or else a concept with a definite relation to perception,\ni.e., an idea. Universal and individual concepts (ideas) become\nmotives of will by influencing the human individual and determining\nhim to action in a particular direction. One and the same concept,\nhowever, or one and the same idea, influence different individuals\ndifferently. They determine different men to different actions. An\nact of will is, therefore, not merely the outcome of a concept or\nan idea, but also of the individual make-up of human beings. This\nindividual make-up we will call, following Eduard von Hartmann, the\n\"characterological disposition.\" The manner in which concept and idea\nact on the characterological disposition of a man gives to his life\na definite moral or ethical stamp.\n\nThe characterological disposition consists of the more or less\npermanent content of the individual's life, that is, of his habitual\nideas and feelings. Whether an idea which enters my mind at this\nmoment stimulates me to an act of will or not, depends on its\nrelation to my other ideal contents, and also to my peculiar modes of\nfeeling. My ideal content, in turn, is conditioned by the sum total\nof those concepts which have, in the course of my individual life,\ncome in contact with percepts, that is, have become ideas. This,\nagain, depends on my greater or lesser capacity for intuition,\nand on the range of my perception, that is, on the subjective and\nobjective factors of my experiences, on the structure of my mind and\non my environment. My affective life more especially determines my\ncharacterological disposition. Whether I shall make a certain idea\nor concept the motive for action will depend on whether it gives me\npleasure or pain.\n\nThese are the factors which we have to consider in an act of will. The\nimmediately present idea or concept, which becomes the motive,\ndetermines the end or the purpose of my will; my characterological\ndisposition determines me to direct my activity towards this end. The\nidea of taking a walk in the next half-hour determines the end of\nmy action. But this idea is raised to the level of a motive only if\nit meets with a suitable characterological disposition, that is, if\nduring my past life I have formed the ideas of the wholesomeness of\nwalking and the value of health; and, further, if the idea of walking\nis accompanied by a feeling of pleasure.\n\nWe must, therefore, distinguish (1) the possible subjective\ndispositions which are likely to turn given ideas and concepts into\nmotives, and (2) the possible ideas and concepts which are capable\nof so influencing my characterological disposition that an act of\nwill results. The former are for morality the springs of action,\nthe latter its ends.\n\nThe springs of action in the moral life can be discovered by analysing\nthe elements of which individual life is composed.\n\nThe first level of individual life is that of perception, more\nparticularly sense-perception. This is the stage of our individual\nlives in which a percept translates itself into will immediately,\nwithout the intervention of either a feeling or a concept. The spring\nof action here involved may be called simply instinct. Our lower,\npurely animal, needs (hunger, sexual intercourse, etc.) find their\nsatisfaction in this way. The main characteristic of instinctive\nlife is the immediacy with which the percept starts off the act\nof will. This kind of determination of the will, which belongs\noriginally only to the life of the lower senses, may, however,\nbecome extended also to the percepts of the higher senses. We may\nreact to the percept of a certain event in the external world without\nreflecting on what we do, and without any special feeling connecting\nitself with the percept. We have examples of this especially in\nour ordinary conventional intercourse with men. The spring of this\nkind of action is called tact or moral good taste. The more often\nsuch immediate reactions to a percept occur, the more the agent will\nprove himself able to act purely under the guidance of tact; that is,\ntact becomes his characterological disposition.\n\nThe second level of human life is feeling. Definite feelings accompany\nthe percepts of the external world. These feelings may become springs\nof action. When I see a hungry man, my pity for him may become the\nspring of my action. Such feelings, for example, are modesty, pride,\nsense of honour, humility, remorse, pity, revenge, gratitude, piety,\nloyalty, love, and duty. [5]\n\nThe third and last level of life is to have thoughts and ideas. An\nidea or a concept may become the motive of an action through mere\nreflection. Ideas become motives because, in the course of my life,\nI regularly connect certain aims of my will with percepts which recur\nagain and again in a more or less modified form. Hence it is that, with\nmen who are not wholly without experience, the occurrence of certain\npercepts is always accompanied also by the consciousness of ideas of\nactions, which they have themselves carried out in similar cases or\nwhich they have seen others carry out. These ideas float before their\nminds as determining models in all subsequent decisions; they become\nparts of their characterological disposition. We may give the name of\npractical experience to the spring of action just described. Practical\nexperience merges gradually into purely tactful behaviour. That\nhappens, when definite typical pictures of actions have become so\nclosely connected in our minds with ideas of certain situations in\nlife, that, in any given instance, we omit all deliberation based on\nexperience and pass immediately from the percept to the action.\n\nThe highest level of individual life is that of conceptual thought\nwithout reference to any definite perceptual content. We determine\nthe content of a concept through pure intuition on the basis of an\nideal system. Such a concept contains, at first, no reference to any\ndefinite percepts. When an act of will comes about under the influence\nof a concept which refers to a percept, i.e., under the influence of\nan idea, then it is the percept which determines our action indirectly\nby way of the concept. But when we act under the influence of pure\nintuitions, the spring of our action is pure thought. As it is the\ncustom in philosophy to call pure thought \"reason,\" we may perhaps\nbe justified in giving the name of practical reason to the spring of\naction characteristic of this level of life. The clearest account of\nthis spring of action has been given by Kreyenb\u00fchl (Philosophische\nMonatshefte, vol. xviii, No. 3). In my opinion his article on this\nsubject is one of the most important contributions to present-day\nphilosophy, more especially to Ethics. Kreyenb\u00fchl calls the spring\nof action, of which we are treating, the practical a priori i.e.,\na spring of action issuing immediately from my intuition.\n\nIt is clear that such a spring of action can no longer be counted in\nthe strictest sense as part of the characterological disposition. For\nwhat is here effective in me as a spring of action is no longer\nsomething purely individual, but the ideal, and hence universal,\ncontent of my intuition. As soon as I regard this content as the\nvalid basis and starting-point of an action, I pass over into willing,\nirrespective of whether the concept was already in my mind beforehand,\nor whether it only occurs to me immediately before the action, that is,\nirrespective of whether it was present in the form of a disposition\nin me or not.\n\nA real act of will results only when a present impulse to action,\nin the form of a concept or idea, acts on the characterological\ndisposition. Such an impulse thereupon becomes the motive of the will.\n\nThe motives of moral conduct are ideas and concepts. There are\nMoralists who see in feeling also a motive of morality; they assert,\ne.g., that the end of moral conduct is to secure the greatest possible\nquantity of pleasure for the agent. Pleasure itself, however, can\nnever be a motive; at best only the idea of pleasure can act as\nmotive. The idea of a future pleasure, but not the feeling itself,\ncan act on my characterological disposition. For the feeling does not\nyet exist in the moment of action; on the contrary, it has first to\nbe produced by the action.\n\nThe idea of one's own or another's well-being is, however, rightly\nregarded as a motive of the will. The principle of producing the\ngreatest quantity of pleasure for oneself through one's action, that\nis, to attain individual happiness, is called Egoism. The attainment\nof this individual happiness is sought either by thinking ruthlessly\nonly of one's own good, and striving to attain it even at the cost\nof the happiness of other individuals (Pure Egoism), or by promoting\nthe good of others, either because one anticipates indirectly a\nfavourable influence on one's own happiness through the happiness\nof others, or because one fears to endanger one's own interest by\ninjuring others (Morality of Prudence). The special content of the\negoistical principle of morality will depend on the ideas which we form\nof what constitutes our own, or others', good. A man will determine\nthe content of his egoistical striving in accordance with what he\nregards as one of life's good things (luxury, hope of happiness,\ndeliverance from different evils, etc.).\n\nFurther, the purely conceptual content of an action is to be regarded\nas yet another kind of motive. This content has no reference, like the\nidea of one's own pleasure, solely to the particular action, but to\nthe deduction of an action from a system of moral principles. These\nmoral principles, in the form of abstract concepts, may guide the\nindividual's moral life without his worrying himself about the origin\nof his concepts. In that case, we feel merely the moral necessity of\nsubmitting to a moral concept which, in the form of law, controls\nour actions. The justification of this necessity we leave to those\nwho demand from us moral subjection, that is, to those whose moral\nauthority over us we acknowledge (the head of the family, the state,\nsocial custom, the authority of the church, divine revelation). We\nmeet with a special kind of these moral principles when the law is\nnot proclaimed to us by an external authority, but comes from our own\nselves (moral autonomy). In this case we believe that we hear the\nvoice, to which we have to submit ourselves, in our own souls. The\nname for this voice is conscience.\n\nIt is a great moral advance when a man no longer takes as the motive\nof his action the commands of an external or internal authority, but\ntries to understand the reason why a given maxim of action ought to be\neffective as a motive in him. This is the advance from morality based\non authority to action from moral insight. At this level of morality,\na man will try to discover the demands of the moral life, and will\nlet his action be determined by this knowledge. Such demands are (1)\nthe greatest possible happiness of humanity as a whole purely for its\nown sake, (2) the progress of civilisation, or the moral development\nof mankind towards ever greater perfection, (3) the realisation of\nindividual moral ends conceived by an act of pure intuition.\n\nThe greatest possible happiness of humanity as a whole will naturally\nbe differently conceived by different people. The above-mentioned maxim\ndoes not imply any definite idea of this happiness, but rather means\nthat every one who acknowledges this principle strives to do all that,\nin his opinion, most promotes the good of the whole of humanity.\n\nThe progress of civilisation is seen to be a special application of\nthe moral principle just mentioned, at any rate for those to whom the\ngoods which civilisation produces bring feelings of pleasure. However,\nthey will have to pay the price of progress in the destruction and\nannihilation of many things which also contribute to the happiness\nof humanity. It is, however, also possible that some men look upon\nthe progress of civilisation as a moral necessity, quite apart from\nthe feelings of pleasure which it brings. If so, the progress of\ncivilisation will be a new moral principle for them, different from\nthe previous one.\n\nBoth the principle of the public good, and that of the progress of\ncivilisation, alike depend on the way in which we apply the content\nof our moral ideas to particular experiences (percepts). The highest\nprinciple of morality which we can conceive, however, is that which\ncontains, to start with, no such reference to particular experiences,\nbut which springs from the source of pure intuition and does not\nseek until later any connection with percepts, i.e., with life. The\ndetermination of what ought to be willed issues here from a point of\nview very different from that of the previous two principles. Whoever\naccepts the principle of the public good will in all his actions ask\nfirst what his ideals contribute to this public good. The upholder of\nthe progress of civilisation as the principle of morality will act\nsimilarly. There is, however, a still higher mode of conduct which,\nin a given case, does not start from any single limited moral ideal,\nbut which sees a certain value in all moral principles, always asking\nwhether this or that principle is more important in a particular\ncase. It may happen that a man considers in certain circumstances\nthe promotion of the public good, in others that of the progress of\ncivilisation, and in yet others the furthering of his own private good,\nto be the right course, and makes that the motive of his action. But\nwhen all other grounds of determination take second place, then we\nrely, in the first place, on conceptual intuition itself. All other\nmotives now drop out of sight, and the ideal content of an action\nalone becomes its motive.\n\nAmong the levels of characterological disposition, we have singled\nout as the highest that which manifests itself as pure thought,\nor practical reason. Among the motives, we have just singled out\nconceptual intuition as the highest. On nearer consideration, we now\nperceive that at this level of morality the spring of action and the\nmotive coincide, i.e., that neither a predetermined characterological\ndisposition, nor an external moral principle accepted on authority,\ninfluence our conduct. The action, therefore, is neither a merely\nstereotyped one which follows the rules of a moral code, nor is it\nautomatically performed in response to an external impulse. Rather\nit is determined solely through its ideal content.\n\nFor such an action to be possible, we must first be capable of moral\nintuitions. Whoever lacks the capacity to think out for himself the\nmoral principles that apply in each particular case, will never rise\nto the level of genuine individual willing.\n\nKant's principle of morality: Act so that the principle of your action\nmay be valid for all men--is the exact opposite of ours. His principle\nwould mean death to all individual action. The norm for me can never\nbe what all men would do, but rather what it is right for me to do\nin each special case.\n\nA superficial criticism might urge against these arguments: How can\nan action be individually adapted to the special case and the special\nsituation, and yet at the same time be ideally determined by pure\nintuition? This objection rests on a confusion of the moral motive\nwith the perceptual content of an action. The latter, indeed, may\nbe a motive, and is actually a motive when we act for the progress\nof culture, or from pure egoism, etc., but in action based on pure\nmoral intuition it never is a motive. Of course, my Self takes\nnotice of these perceptual contents, but it does not allow itself\nto be determined by them. The content is used only to construct a\ntheoretical concept, but the corresponding moral concept is not derived\nfrom the object. The theoretical concept of a given situation which\nfaces me, is a moral concept also only if I adopt the standpoint\nof a particular moral principle. If I base all my conduct on the\nprinciple of the progress of civilisation, then my way through life\nis tied down to a fixed route. From every occurrence which comes to\nmy notice and attracts my interest there springs a moral duty, viz.,\nto do my tiny share towards using this occurrence in the service\nof the progress of civilisation. In addition to the concept which\nreveals to me the connections of events or objects according to the\nlaws of nature, there is also a moral label attached to them which\ncontains for me, as a moral agent, ethical directions as to how I have\nto conduct myself. At a higher level these moral labels disappear,\nand my action is determined in each particular instance by my idea;\nand more particularly by the idea which is suggested to me by the\nconcrete instance.\n\nMen vary greatly in their capacity for intuition. In some, ideas bubble\nup like a spring, others acquire them with much labour. The situations\nin which men live, and which are the scenes of their actions, are no\nless widely different. The conduct of a man will depend, therefore,\non the manner in which his faculty of intuition reacts to a given\nsituation. The aggregate of the ideas which are effective in us,\nthe concrete content of our intuitions, constitute that which is\nindividual in each of us, notwithstanding the universal character\nof our ideas. In so far as this intuitive content has reference to\naction, it constitutes the moral substance of the individual. To let\nthis substance express itself in his life is the moral principle of\nthe man who regards all other moral principles as subordinate. We\nmay call this point of view Ethical Individualism.\n\nThe determining factor of an action, in any concrete instance, is the\ndiscovery of the corresponding purely individual intuition. At this\nlevel of morality, there can be no question of general moral concepts\n(norms, laws). General norms always presuppose concrete facts from\nwhich they can be deduced. But facts have first to be created by\nhuman action.\n\nWhen we look for the regulating principles (the conceptual principles\nguiding the actions of individuals, peoples, epochs), we obtain a\nsystem of Ethics which is not a science of moral norms, but rather\na science of morality as a natural fact. Only the laws discovered in\nthis way are related to human action as the laws of nature are related\nto particular phenomena. These laws, however, are very far from being\nidentical with the impulses on which we base our actions. If we want\nto understand how man's moral will gives rise to an action, we must\nfirst study the relation of this will to the action. For this purpose\nwe must single out for study those actions in which this relation\nis the determining factor. When I, or another, subsequently review\nmy action we may discover what moral principles come into play in\nit. But so long as I am acting, I am influenced, not by these moral\nprinciples, but by my love for the object which I want to realise\nthrough my action. I ask no man and no moral code, whether I shall\nperform this action or not. On the contrary, I carry it out as soon\nas I have formed the idea of it. This alone makes it my action. If a\nman acts because he accepts certain moral norms, his action is the\noutcome of the principles which compose his moral code. He merely\ncarries out orders. He is a superior kind of automaton. Inject some\nstimulus to action into his mind, and at once the clock-work of his\nmoral principles will begin to work and run its prescribed course, so\nas to issue in an action which is Christian, or humane, or unselfish,\nor calculated to promote the progress of culture. It is only when\nI follow solely my love for the object, that it is I, myself, who\nact. At this level of morality, I acknowledge no lord over me, neither\nan external authority, nor the so-called voice of my conscience. I\nacknowledge no external principle of my action, because I have found\nin myself the ground for my action, viz., my love of the action. I\ndo not ask whether my action is good or bad; I perform it, because I\nam in love with it. My action is \"good\" when, with loving intuition,\nI insert myself in the right way into the world-nexus as I experience\nit intuitively; it is \"bad\" when this is not the case. Neither do I\nask myself how another man would act in my position. On the contrary,\nI act as I, this unique individuality, will to act. No general usage,\nno common custom, no general maxim current among men, no moral norm\nguides me, but my love for the action. I feel no compulsion, neither\nthe compulsion of nature which dominates me through my instincts,\nnor the compulsion of the moral commandments. My will is simply to\nrealise what in me lies.\n\nThose who hold to general moral norms will reply to these arguments\nthat, if every one has the right to live himself out and to do what he\npleases, there can be no distinction between a good and a bad action;\nevery fraudulent impulse in me has the same right to issue in action\nas the intention to serve the general good. It is not the mere fact\nof my having conceived the idea of an action which ought to determine\nme as a moral agent, but the further examination of whether it is a\ngood or an evil action. Only if it is good ought I to carry it out.\n\nThis objection is easily intelligible, and yet it had its root in\nwhat is but a misapprehension of my meaning. My reply to it is this:\nIf we want to get at the essence of human volition, we must distinguish\nbetween the path along which volition attains to a certain degree of\ndevelopment, and the unique character which it assumes as it approaches\nits goal. It is on the path towards the goal that the norms play a\nlegitimate part. The goal consists in the realisation of moral aims\nwhich are apprehended by pure intuition. Man attains such aims in\nproportion as he is able to rise at all to the level at which intuition\ngrasps the ideal content of the world. In any particular volition,\nother elements will, as a rule, be mixed up, as motives or springs\nof action, with such moral aims. But, for all that, intuition may be,\nwholly or in part, the determining factor in human volition. What we\nought to do, that we do. We supply the stage upon which duty becomes\ndeed. It is our own action which, as such, issues from us. The impulse,\nthen, can only be wholly individual. And, in fact, only a volition\nwhich issues out of intuition can be individual. It is only in an age\nin which immature men regard the blind instincts as part of a man's\nindividuality, that the act of a criminal can be described as living\nout one's individuality in the same sense, in which the embodiment\nin action of a pure intuition can be so described.\n\nThe animal instinct which drives a man to a criminal act does not\nspring from intuition, and does not belong to what is individual in\nhim, but rather to that which is most general in him, to that which\nis equally present in all individuals. The individual element in me\nis not my organism with its instincts and feelings, but rather the\nunified world of ideas which reveals itself through this organism. My\ninstincts, cravings, passions, justify no further assertion about\nme than that I belong to the general species man. The fact that\nsomething ideal expresses itself in its own unique way through these\ninstincts, passions, and feelings, constitutes my individuality. My\ninstincts and cravings make me the sort of man of whom there are\ntwelve to the dozen. The unique character of the idea, by means of\nwhich I distinguish myself within the dozen as \"I,\" makes of me an\nindividual. Only a being other than myself could distinguish me from\nothers by the difference in my animal nature. By thought, i.e., by the\nactive grasping of the ideal element working itself out through my\norganism, I distinguish myself from others. Hence it is impossible\nto say of the action of a criminal that it issues from the idea\nwithin him. Indeed, the characteristic feature of criminal actions\nis precisely that they spring from the non-ideal elements in man.\n\nAn act the grounds for which lie in the ideal part of my individual\nnature is free. Every other act, whether done under the compulsion\nof nature or under the obligation imposed by a moral norm, is unfree.\n\nThat man alone is free who in every moment of his life is able to obey\nonly himself. A moral act is my act only when it can be called free\nin this sense. So far we are concerned here with the presuppositions\nunder which an act of will is felt to be free; the sequel will show\nhow this purely ethical concept of freedom is realised in the essential\nnature of man.\n\nAction on the basis of freedom does not exclude, but include, the\nmoral laws. It only shows that it stands on a higher level than\nactions which are dictated by these laws. Why should my act serve\nthe general good less well when I do it from pure love of it, than\nwhen I perform it because it is a duty to serve the general good? The\nconcept of duty excludes freedom, because it will not acknowledge the\nright of individuality, but demands the subjection of individuality\nto a general norm. Freedom of action is conceivable only from the\nstandpoint of Ethical Individualism.\n\nBut how about the possibility of social life for men, if each aims\nonly at asserting his own individuality? This question expresses yet\nanother objection on the part of Moralism wrongly understood. The\nMoralist believes that a social community is possible only if all\nmen are held together by a common moral order. This shows that the\nMoralist does not understand the community of the world of ideas. He\ndoes not realise that the world of ideas which inspires me is no other\nthan that which inspires my fellow-men. This identity is, indeed,\nbut a conclusion from our experience of the world. However, it cannot\nbe anything else. For if we could recognise it in any other way than\nby observation, it would follow that universal norms, not individual\nexperience, were dominant in its sphere. Individuality is possible only\nif every individual knows others only through individual observation. I\ndiffer from my neighbour, not at all because we are living in two\nentirely different mental worlds, but because from our common world\nof ideas we receive different intuitions. He desires to live out his\nintuitions, I mine. If we both draw our intuitions really from the\nworld of ideas, and do not obey mere external impulses (physical or\nmoral), then we cannot but meet one another in striving for the same\naims, in having the same intentions. A moral misunderstanding, a clash\nof aims, is impossible between men who are free. Only the morally\nunfree who blindly follow their natural instincts or the commands of\nduty, turn their backs on their neighbours, if these do not obey the\nsame instincts and the same laws as themselves. To live in love of\naction and to let live in understanding of the other's volition, this\nis the fundamental maxim of the free man. He knows no other \"ought\"\nthan that with which his will intuitively puts itself in harmony. How\nhe shall will in any given case, that will be determined for him by\nthe range of his ideas.\n\nIf sociability were not deeply rooted in human nature, no external\nlaws would be able to inoculate us with it. It is only because human\nindividuals are akin in spirit that they can live out their lives\nside by side. The free man lives out his life in the full confidence\nthat all other free men belong to one spiritual world with himself,\nand that their intentions will coincide with his. The free man does\nnot demand agreement from his fellow-men, but he expects it none the\nless, believing that it is inherent in human nature. I am not referring\nhere to the necessity for this or that external institution. I refer\nto the disposition, to the state of mind, through which a man, aware\nof himself as one of a group of fellow-men for whom he cares, comes\nnearest to living up to the ideal of human dignity.\n\nThere are many who will say that the concept of the free man which\nI have here developed, is a chimera nowhere to be found realised,\nand that we have got to deal with actual human beings, from whom we\ncan expect morality only if they obey some moral law, i.e., if they\nregard their moral task as a duty and do not simply follow their\ninclinations and loves. I do not deny this. Only a blind man could\ndo that. But, if so, away with all this hypocrisy of morality! Let us\nsay simply that human nature must be compelled to act as long as it is\nnot free. Whether the compulsion of man's unfree nature is effected by\nphysical force or through moral laws, whether man is unfree because he\nindulges his unmeasured sexual desire, or because he is bound tight\nin the bonds of conventional morality, is quite immaterial. Only let\nus not assert that such a man can rightly call his actions his own,\nseeing that he is driven to them by an external force. But in the midst\nof all this network of compulsion, there arise free spirits who, in\nall the welter of customs, legal codes, religious observances, etc.,\nlearn to be true to themselves. They are free in so far as they obey\nonly themselves; unfree in so far as they submit to control. Which of\nus can say that he is really free in all his actions? Yet in each of us\nthere dwells something deeper in which the free man finds expression.\n\nOur life is made up of free and unfree actions. We cannot, however,\nform a final and adequate concept of human nature without coming upon\nthe free spirit as its purest expression. After all, we are men in\nthe fullest sense only in so far as we are free.\n\nThis is an ideal, many will say. Doubtless; but it is an ideal which\nis a real element in us working up to the surface of our nature. It is\nno ideal born of mere imagination or dream, but one which has life,\nand which manifests itself clearly even in the least developed form\nof its existence. If men were nothing but natural objects, the search\nfor ideals, that is, for ideas which as yet are not actual but the\nrealisation of which we demand, would be an impossibility. In dealing\nwith external objects the idea is determined by the percept. We\nhave done our share when we have recognised the connection between\nidea and percept. But with a human being the case is different. The\ncontent of his existence is not determined without him. His concept\nof his true self as a moral being (free spirit) is not a priori united\nobjectively with the perceptual content \"man,\" so that knowledge need\nonly register the fact subsequently. Man must by his own act unite\nhis concept with the percept \"man.\" Concept and percept coincide\nwith one another in this instance, only in so far as the individual\nhimself makes them coincide. This he can do only if he has found the\nconcept of the free spirit, that is, if he has found the concept of\nhis own Self. In the objective world, a boundary-line is drawn by our\norganisation between percept and concept. Knowledge breaks down this\nbarrier. In our subjective nature this barrier is no less present. The\nindividual overcomes it in the course of his development, by embodying\nhis concept of himself in his outward existence. Hence man's moral life\nand his intellectual life lead him both alike to his two-fold nature,\nperception (immediate experience) and thought. The intellectual life\novercomes his two-fold nature by means of knowledge, the moral life\nsucceeds through the actual realisation of the free spirit. Every\nbeing has its inborn concept (the laws of its being and action),\nbut in external objects this concept is indissolubly bound up with\nthe percept, and separated from it only in the organisation of human\nminds. In human beings concept and percept are, at first, actually\nseparated, to be just as actually reunited by them. Someone might\nobject that to our percept of a man there corresponds at every moment\nof his life a definite concept, just as with external objects. I can\nconstruct for myself the concept of an average man, and I may also\nhave given to me a percept to fit this pattern. Suppose now I add to\nthis the concept of a free spirit, then I have two concepts for the\nsame object.\n\nSuch an objection is one-sided. As object of perception I am subject\nto perpetual change. As a child I was one thing, another as a youth,\nyet another as a man. Moreover, at every moment I am different, as\npercept, from what I was the moment before. These changes may take\nplace in such a way that either it is always only the same (average)\nman who exhibits himself in them, or that they represent the expression\nof a free spirit. Such are the changes which my actions, as objects\nof perception, undergo.\n\nIn the perceptual object \"man\" there is given the possibility of\ntransformation, just as in the plant-seed there lies the possibility\nof growth into a fully developed plant. The plant transforms itself\nin growth, because of the objective law of nature which is inherent\nin it. The human being remains in his undeveloped state, unless he\ntakes hold of the material for transformation within him and develops\nhimself through his own energy. Nature makes of man merely a natural\nbeing; Society makes of him a being who acts in obedience to law; only\nhe himself can make a free man of himself. At a definite stage in his\ndevelopment Nature releases man from her fetters; Society carries his\ndevelopment a step further; he alone can give himself the final polish.\n\nThe theory of free morality, then, does not assert that the free spirit\nis the only form in which man can exist. It looks upon the freedom of\nthe spirit only as the last stage in man's evolution. This is not to\ndeny that conduct in obedience to norms has its legitimate place as a\nstage in development. The point is that we cannot acknowledge it to be\nthe absolute standpoint in morality. For the free spirit transcends\nnorms, in the sense that he is insensible to them as commands, but\nregulates his conduct in accordance with his impulses (intuitions).\n\nWhen Kant apostrophises duty: \"Duty! Thou sublime and mighty name,\nthat dost embrace nothing charming or insinuating, but requirest\nsubmission,\" thou that \"holdest forth a law ... before which all\ninclinations are dumb, even though they secretly counterwork it,\" [6]\nthen the free spirit replies: \"Freedom! thou kindly and humane name,\nwhich dost embrace within thyself all that is morally most charming,\nall that insinuates itself most into my humanity, and which makest\nme the servant of nobody, which holdest forth no law, but waitest\nwhat my inclination itself will proclaim as law, because it resists\nevery law that is forced upon it.\"\n\nThis is the contrast of morality according to law and according\nto freedom.\n\nThe philistine who looks upon the State as embodied morality is sure\nto look upon the free spirit as a danger to the State. But that is\nonly because his view is narrowly focused on a limited period of\ntime. If he were able to look beyond, he would soon find that it is\nbut on rare occasions that the free spirit needs to go beyond the\nlaws of his state, and that it never needs to confront them with any\nreal contradiction. For the laws of the state, one and all, have had\ntheir origin in the intuitions of free spirits, just like all other\nobjective laws of morality. There is no traditional law enforced by\nthe authority of a family, which was not, once upon a time, intuitively\nconceived and laid down by an ancestor. Similarly the conventional laws\nof morality are first of all established by particular men, and the\nlaws of the state are always born in the brain of a statesman. These\nfree spirits have set up laws over the rest of mankind, and only he is\nunfree who forgets this origin and makes them either divine commands,\nor objective moral duties, or--falsely mystical--the authoritative\nvoice of his own conscience.\n\nHe, on the other hand, who does not forget the origin of laws, but\nlooks for it in man, will respect them as belonging to the same world\nof ideas which is the source also of his own moral intuitions. If he\nthinks his intuitions better than the existing laws, he will try to\nput them into the place of the latter. If he thinks the laws justified,\nhe will act in accordance with them as if they were his own intuitions.\n\nMan does not exist in order to found a moral order of the world. Anyone\nwho maintains that he does, stands in his theory of man still at\nthat same point, at which natural science stood when it believed\nthat a bull has horns in order that it may butt. Scientists, happily,\nhave cast the concept of objective purposes in nature into the limbo\nof dead theories. For Ethics, it is more difficult to achieve the\nsame emancipation. But just as horns do not exist for the sake of\nbutting, but butting because of horns, so man does not exist for the\nsake of morality, but morality exists through man. The free man acts\nmorally because he has a moral idea, he does not act in order to be\nmoral. Human individuals are the presupposition of a moral world order.\n\nThe human individual is the fountain of all morality and the centre of\nall life. State and society exist only because they have necessarily\ngrown out of the life of individuals. That state and society, in turn,\nshould react upon the lives of individuals, is no more difficult to\ncomprehend, than that the butting which is the result of the existence\nof horns, reacts in turn upon the further development of the horns,\nwhich would become atrophied by prolonged disuse. Similarly, the\nindividual must degenerate if he leads an isolated existence beyond\nthe pale of human society. That is just the reason why the social\norder arises, viz., that it may react favourably upon the individual.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nX\n\nMONISM AND THE PHILOSOPHY OF SPIRITUAL ACTIVITY\n\n\nThe na\u00efve man who acknowledges nothing as real except what he can see\nwith his eyes and grasp with his hands, demands for his moral life,\ntoo, grounds of action which are perceptible to his senses. He wants\nsome one who will impart to him these grounds of action in a manner\nthat his senses can apprehend. He is ready to allow these grounds of\naction to be dictated to him as commands by anyone whom he considers\nwiser or more powerful than himself, or whom he acknowledges, for\nwhatever reason, to be a power superior to himself. This accounts\nfor the moral principles enumerated above, viz., the principles which\nrest on the authority of family, state, society, church, and God. The\nmost narrow-minded man still submits to the authority of some single\nfellow-man. He who is a little more progressive allows his moral\nconduct to be dictated by a majority (state, society). In every\ncase he relies on some power which is present to his senses. When,\nat last, the conviction dawns on someone that his authorities are,\nat bottom, human beings just as weak as himself, then he seeks refuge\nwith a higher power, with a Divine Being, whom, in turn, he endows\nwith qualities perceptible to the senses. He conceives this Being as\ncommunicating to him the ideal content of his moral life by way of\nhis senses--believing, for example, that God appears in the flaming\nbush, or that He moves about among men in manifest human shape, and\nthat their ears can hear His voice telling them what they are to do\nand what not to do.\n\nThe highest stage of development which Na\u00efve Realism attains in the\nsphere of morality is that at which the moral law (the moral idea)\nis conceived as having no connection with any external being,\nbut, hypothetically, as being an absolute power in one's own\nconsciousness. What man first listened to as the voice of God, to\nthat he now listens as an independent power in his own mind which he\ncalls conscience. This conception, however, takes us already beyond\nthe level of the na\u00efve consciousness into the sphere where moral\nlaws are treated as independent norms. They are there no longer\nmade dependent on a human mind, but are turned into self-existent\nmetaphysical entities. They are analogous to the visible-invisible\nforces of Metaphysical Realism. Hence also they appear always as\na corollary of Metaphysical Realism, which seeks reality, not in\nthe part which human nature, through its thinking, plays in making\nreality what it is, but which hypothetically posits reality over\nand above the facts of experience. Hence these extra-human moral\nnorms always appear as corollaries of Metaphysical Realism. For this\ntheory is bound to look for the origin of morality likewise in the\nsphere of extra-human reality. There are different possible views of\nits origin. If the thing-in-itself is unthinking and acts according\nto purely mechanical laws, as modern Materialism conceives that it\ndoes, then it must also produce out of itself, by purely mechanical\nnecessity, the human individual and all that belongs to him. On\nthat view the consciousness of freedom can be nothing more than\nan illusion. For whilst I consider myself the author of my action,\nit is the matter of which I am composed and the movements which are\ngoing on in it that determine me. I imagine myself free, but actually\nall my actions are nothing but the effects of the metabolism which is\nthe basis of my physical and mental organisation. It is only because\nwe do not know the motives which compel us that we have the feeling\nof freedom. \"We must emphasise that the feeling of freedom depends\non the absence of external compelling motives.\" \"Our actions are as\nmuch subject to necessity as our thoughts\" (Ziehen, Leitfaden der\nPhysiologischen Psychologie, pp. 207, ff.). [7]\n\nAnother possibility is that some one will find in a spiritual being\nthe Absolute lying behind all phenomena. If so, he will look for the\nspring of action in some kind of spiritual power. He will regard the\nmoral principles which his reason contains as the manifestation of this\nspiritual being, which pursues in men its own special purposes. Moral\nlaws appear to the Dualist, who holds this view, as dictated by the\nAbsolute, and man's only task is to discover, by means of his reason,\nthe decisions of the Absolute and to carry them out. For the Dualist,\nthe moral order of the world is the visible symbol of the higher order\nthat lies behind it. Our human morality is a revelation of the divine\nworld-order. It is not man who matters in this moral order but reality\nin itself, that is, God. Man ought to do what God wills. Eduard von\nHartmann, who identifies reality, as such, with God, and who treats\nGod's existence as a life of suffering, believes that the Divine\nBeing has created the world in order to gain, by means of the world,\nrelease from his infinite suffering. Hence this philosopher regards the\nmoral evolution of humanity as a process, the function of which is the\nredemption of God. \"Only through the building up of a moral world-order\non the part of rational, self-conscious individuals is it possible for\nthe world-process to approximate to its goal.\" \"Real existence is the\nincarnation of God. The world-process is the passion of God who has\nbecome flesh, and at the same time the way of redemption for Him who\nwas crucified in the flesh; and morality is our co-operation in the\nshortening of this process of suffering and redemption\" (Hartmann,\nPh\u00e4nomenologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins, \u00a7 871). On this view,\nman does not act because he wills, but he must act because it is\nGod's will to be redeemed. Whereas the Materialistic Dualist turns\nman into an automaton, the action of which is nothing but the effect\nof causality according to purely mechanical laws, the Spiritualistic\nDualist (i.e., he who treats the Absolute, the thing-in-itself, as\na spiritual something in which man with his conscious experience has\nno share), makes man the slave of the will of the Absolute. Neither\nMaterialism, nor Spiritualism, nor in general Metaphysical Realism\nwhich infers, as true reality, an extra-human something which it does\nnot experience, have any room for freedom.\n\nNa\u00efve and Metaphysical Realism, if they are to be consistent, have to\ndeny freedom for one and the same reason, viz., because, for them,\nman does nothing but carry out, or execute, principles necessarily\nimposed upon him. Na\u00efve Realism destroys freedom by subjecting man\nto authority, whether it be that of a perceptible being, or that of\na being conceived on the analogy of perceptible beings, or, lastly,\nthat of the abstract voice of conscience. The Metaphysician, content\nmerely to infer an extra-human reality, is unable to acknowledge\nfreedom because, for him, man is determined, mechanically or morally,\nby a \"thing-in-itself.\"\n\nMonism will have to admit the partial justification of Na\u00efve Realism,\nwith which it agrees in admitting the part played by the world\nof percepts. He who is incapable of producing moral ideas through\nintuition must receive them from others. In so far as a man receives\nhis moral principles from without he is actually unfree. But Monism\nascribes to the idea the same importance as to the percept. The\nidea can manifest itself only in human individuals. In so far\nas man obeys the impulses coming from this side he is free. But\nMonism denies all justification to Metaphysics, and consequently\nalso to the impulses of action which are derived from so-called\n\"things-in-themselves.\" According to the Monistic view, man's action\nis unfree when he obeys some perceptible external compulsion; it\nis free when he obeys none but himself. There is no room in Monism\nfor any kind of unconscious compulsion hidden behind percept and\nconcept. If anybody maintains of the action of a fellow-man that it\nhas not been freely done, he is bound to produce within the visible\nworld the thing or the person or the institution which has caused the\nagent to act. And if he supports his contention by an appeal to causes\nof action lying outside the real world of our percepts and thoughts,\nthen Monism must decline to take account of such an assertion.\n\nAccording to the Monistic theory, then, man's action is partly free,\npartly unfree. He is conscious of himself as unfree in the world of\npercepts, and he realises in himself the spirit which is free.\n\nThe moral laws which his inferences compel the Metaphysician to regard\nas issuing from a higher power have, according to the upholder of\nMonism, been conceived by men themselves. To him the moral order is\nneither a mere image of a purely mechanical order of nature nor of\nthe divine government of the world, but through and through the free\ncreation of men. It is not man's business to realise God's will in the\nworld, but his own. He carries out his own decisions and intentions,\nnot those of another being. Monism does not find behind human agents a\nruler of the world, determining them to act according to his will. Men\npursue only their own human ends. Moreover, each individual pursues\nhis own private ends. For the world of ideas realises itself, not in a\ncommunity, but only in individual men. What appears as the common goal\nof a community is nothing but the result of the separate volitions\nof its individual members, and most commonly of a few outstanding\nmen whom the rest follow as their leaders. Each one of us has it in\nhim to be a free spirit, just as every rosebud is potentially a rose.\n\nMonism, then, is in the sphere of genuinely moral action the true\nphilosophy of freedom. Being also a philosophy of reality, it\nrejects the metaphysical (unreal) restriction of the free spirit as\nemphatically as it acknowledges the physical and historical (na\u00efvely\nreal) restrictions of the na\u00efve man. Inasmuch as it does not look\nupon man as a finished product, exhibiting in every moment of his\nlife his full nature, it considers idle the dispute whether man,\nas such, is free or not. It looks upon man as a developing being,\nand asks whether, in the course of this development, he can reach\nthe stage of the free spirit.\n\nMonism knows that Nature does not send forth man ready-made as a free\nspirit, but that she leads him up to a certain stage, from which he\ncontinues to develop still as an unfree being, until he reaches the\npoint where he finds his own self.\n\nMonism perceives clearly that a being acting under physical or moral\ncompulsion cannot be truly moral. It regards the stages of automatic\naction (in accordance with natural impulses and instincts), and of\nobedient action (in accordance with moral norms), as a necessary\nprop\u00e6deutic for morality, but it understands that it is possible for\nthe free spirit to transcend both these transitory stages. Monism\nemancipates man in general from all the self-imposed fetters of the\nmaxims of na\u00efve morality, and from all the externally imposed maxims of\nspeculative Metaphysicians. The former Monism can as little eliminate\nfrom the world as it can eliminate percepts. The latter it rejects,\nbecause it looks for all principles of explanation of the phenomena\nof the world within that world and not outside it. Just as Monism\nrefuses even to entertain the thought of cognitive principles other\nthan those applicable to men (p. 125), so it rejects also the concept\nof moral maxims other than those originated by men. Human morality,\nlike human knowledge, is conditioned by human nature, and just as\nbeings of a higher order would probably mean by knowledge something\nvery different from what we mean by it, so we may assume that other\nbeings would have a very different morality. For Monists, morality\nis a specifically human quality, and freedom the human way being moral.\n\n\n\n\n1. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nIn forming a judgment about the argument of the two preceding chapters,\na difficulty may arise from what may appear to be a contradiction. On\nthe one side, we have spoken of the experience of thinking as one\nthe significance of which is universal and equally valid for every\nhuman consciousness. On the other side, we have pointed out that the\nideas which we realise in moral action and which are homogeneous\nwith those that thinking elaborates, manifest themselves in every\nhuman consciousness in a uniquely individual way. If we cannot get\nbeyond regarding this antithesis as a \"contradiction,\" and if we\ndo not recognise that in the living intuition of this actually\nexisting antithesis a piece of man's essential nature reveals\nitself, we shall not be able to apprehend in the true light either\nwhat knowledge is or what freedom is. Those who think of concepts\nas nothing more than abstractions from the world of percepts,\nand who do not acknowledge the part which intuition plays, cannot\nbut regard as a \"pure contradiction\" the thought for which we have\nhere claimed reality. But if we understand how ideas are experienced\nintuitively in their self-sustaining essence, we see clearly that,\nin knowledge, man lives and enters into the world of ideas as\ninto something which is identical for all men. On the other hand,\nwhen man derives from that world the intuitions for his voluntary\nactions, he individualises a member of the world of ideas by that\nsame activity which he practises as a universally human one in the\nspiritual and ideal process of cognition. The apparent contradiction\nbetween the universal character of cognitive ideas and the individual\ncharacter of moral ideas becomes, when intuited in its reality,\na living concept. It is a criterion of the essential nature of man\nthat what we intuitively apprehend of his nature oscillates, like a\nliving pendulum, between knowledge which is universally valid, and\nindividualised experience of this universal content. Those who fail\nto perceive the one oscillation in its real character, will regard\nthinking as a merely subjective human activity. For those who are\nunable to grasp the other oscillation, man's activity in thinking\nwill seem to lose all individual life. Knowledge is to the former,\nthe moral life to the latter, an unintelligible fact. Both will fall\nback on all sorts of ideas for the explanation of the one or of the\nother, because both either do not understand at all how thinking can\nbe intuitively experienced, or, else, misunderstand it as an activity\nwhich merely abstracts.\n\n\n\n\n2. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nOn page 180 I have spoken of Materialism. I am well aware that there\nare thinkers, like the above-mentioned Th. Ziehen, who do not call\nthemselves Materialists at all, but yet who must be called so from\nthe point of view adopted in this book. It does not matter whether\na thinker says that for him the world is not restricted to merely\nmaterial being, and that, therefore, he is not a Materialist. No,\nwhat matters is whether he develops concepts which are applicable only\nto material being. Anyone who says, \"our action, like our thought,\nis necessarily determined,\" lays down a concept which is applicable\nonly to material processes, but not applicable either to what we do or\nto what we are. And if he were to think out what his concept implies,\nhe would end by thinking materialistically. He saves himself from this\nfate only by the same inconsistency which so often results from not\nthinking one's thoughts out to the end. It is often said nowadays that\nthe Materialism of the nineteenth century is scientifically dead. But\nin truth it is not so. It is only that nowadays we frequently fail\nto notice that we have no other ideas than those which apply only to\nthe material world. Thus recent Materialism is disguised, whereas\nin the second half of the nineteenth century it openly flaunted\nitself. Towards a theory which apprehends the world spiritually the\ncamouflaged Materialism of the present is no less intolerant than\nthe self-confessed Materialism of the last century. But it deceives\nmany who think they have a right to reject a theory of the world in\nterms of Spirit, on the ground that the scientific world-view \"has\nlong ago abandoned Materialism.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXI\n\nWORLD-PURPOSE AND LIFE-PURPOSE\n\n(THE DESTINY OF MAN)\n\n\nAmong the manifold currents in the spiritual life of humanity\nthere is one which we must now trace, and which we may call the\nelimination of the concept of purpose from spheres to which it does\nnot belong. Adaptation to purpose is a special kind of sequence of\nphenomena. Such adaptation is genuinely real only when, in contrast\nto the relation of cause and effect in which the antecedent event\ndetermines the subsequent, the subsequent event determines the\nantecedent. This is possible only in the sphere of human actions. Man\nperforms actions which he first presents to himself in idea, and he\nallows himself to be determined to action by this idea. The consequent,\ni.e., the action, influences by means of the idea the antecedent,\ni.e., the human agent. If the sequence is to have purposive character,\nit is absolutely necessary to have this circuitous process through\nhuman ideas.\n\nIn the process which we can analyse into cause and effect, we must\ndistinguish percept from concept. The percept of the cause precedes\nthe percept of the effect. Cause and effect would simply stand side by\nside in our consciousness, if we were not able to connect them with\none another through the corresponding concepts. The percept of the\neffect must always be consequent upon the percept of the cause. If\nthe effect is to have a real influence upon the cause, it can do so\nonly by means of the conceptual factor. For the perceptual factor\nof the effect simply does not exist prior to the perceptual factor\nof the cause. Whoever maintains that the flower is the purpose of\nthe root, i.e., that the former determines the latter, can make good\nthis assertion only concerning that factor in the flower which his\nthought reveals in it. The perceptual factor of the flower is not\nyet in existence at the time when the root originates.\n\nIn order to have a purposive connection, it is not only necessary to\nhave an ideal connection of consequent and antecedent according to\nlaw, but the concept (law) of the effect must really, i.e., by means\nof a perceptible process, influence the cause. Such a perceptible\ninfluence of a concept upon something else is to be observed only in\nhuman actions. Hence this is the only sphere in which the concept of\npurpose is applicable. The na\u00efve consciousness, which regards as real\nonly what is perceptible, attempts, as we have repeatedly pointed out,\nto introduce perceptible factors even where only ideal factors can\nactually be found. In sequences of perceptible events it looks for\nperceptible connections, or, failing to find them, it imports them\nby imagination. The concept of purpose, valid for subjective actions,\nis very convenient for inventing such imaginary connections. The na\u00efve\nmind knows how it produces events itself, and consequently concludes\nthat Nature proceeds likewise. In the connections of Nature which are\npurely ideal it finds, not only invisible forces, but also invisible\nreal purposes. Man makes his tools to suit his purposes. On the same\nprinciple, so the Na\u00efve Realist imagines, the Creator constructs all\norganisms. It is but slowly that this mistaken concept of purpose is\nbeing driven out of the sciences. In philosophy, even at the present\nday, it still does a good deal of mischief. Philosophers still ask such\nquestions as, What is the purpose of the world? What is the function\n(and consequently the purpose) of man? etc.\n\nMonism rejects the concept of purpose in every sphere, with the sole\nexception of human action. It looks for laws of Nature, but not for\npurposes of Nature. Purposes of Nature, no less than invisible forces\n(p. 118), are arbitrary assumptions. But even life-purposes which\nman does not set up for himself, are, from the standpoint of Monism,\nillegitimate assumptions. Nothing is purposive except what man\nhas made so, for only the realisation of ideas originates anything\npurposive. But an idea becomes effective, in the realistic sense,\nonly in human actions. Hence life has no other purpose or function\nthan the one which man gives to it. If the question be asked, What is\nman's purpose in life? Monism has but one answer: The purpose which\nhe gives to himself. I have no predestined mission in the world;\nmy mission, at any one moment, is that which I choose for myself. I\ndo not enter upon life's voyage with a fixed route mapped out for me.\n\nIdeas are realised only by human agents. Consequently, it is\nillegitimate to speak of the embodiment of ideas by history. All such\nstatements as \"history is the evolution of man towards freedom,\" or\n\"the realisation of the moral world-order,\" etc., are, from a Monistic\npoint of view, untenable.\n\nThe supporters of the concept of purpose believe that, in surrendering\nit, they are forced to surrender also all unity and order in the\nworld. Listen, for example, to Robert Hamerling (Atomistik des Willens,\nvol. ii, p. 201): \"As long as there are instincts in Nature, so long\nis it foolish to deny purposes in Nature. Just as the structure of a\nlimb of the human body is not determined and conditioned by an idea\nof this limb, floating somewhere in mid-air, but by its connection\nwith the more inclusive whole, the body, to which the limb belongs,\nso the structure of every natural object, be it plant, animal, or man,\nis not determined and conditioned by an idea of it floating in mid-air,\nbut by the formative principle of the more inclusive whole of Nature\nwhich unfolds and organises itself in a purposive manner.\" And on\npage 191 of the same volume we read: \"Teleology maintains only that,\nin spite of the thousand misfits and miseries of this natural life,\nthere is a high degree of adaptation to purpose and plan unmistakable\nin the formations and developments of Nature--an adaptation, however,\nwhich is realised only within the limits of natural laws, and which\ndoes not tend to the production of some imaginary fairy-land, in which\nlife would not be confronted by death, growth by decay, with all the\nmore or less unpleasant, but quite unavoidable, intermediary stages\nbetween them. When the critics of Teleology oppose a laboriously\ncollected rubbish-heap of partial or complete, imaginary or real,\nmaladaptations to a world full of wonders of purposive adaptation,\nsuch as Nature exhibits in all her domains, then I consider this just\nas amusing----\"\n\nWhat is here meant by purposive adaptation? Nothing but the consonance\nof percepts within a whole. But, since all percepts are based upon\nlaws (ideas), which we discover by means of thinking, it follows that\nthe orderly coherence of the members of a perceptual whole is nothing\nmore than the ideal (logical) coherence of the members of the ideal\nwhole which is contained in this perceptual whole. To say that an\nanimal or a man is not determined by an idea floating in mid-air is a\nmisleading way of putting it, and the view which the critic attacks\nloses its apparent absurdity as soon as the phrase is put right. An\nanimal certainly is not determined by an idea floating in mid-air,\nbut it is determined by an idea inborn in it and constituting the\nlaw of its nature. It is just because the idea is not external to\nthe natural object, but is operative in it as its very essence, that\nwe cannot speak here of adaptation to purpose. Those who deny that\nnatural objects are determined from without (and it does not matter,\nin this context, whether it be by an idea floating in mid-air or\nexisting in the mind of a creator of the world), are the very men who\nought to admit that such an object is not determined by purpose and\nplan from without, but by cause and law from within. A machine is\nproduced in accordance with a purpose, if I establish a connection\nbetween its parts which is not given in Nature. The purposive\ncharacter of the combinations which I effect consists just in this,\nthat I embody my idea of the working of the machine in the machine\nitself. In this way the machine comes into existence as an object of\nperception embodying a corresponding idea. Natural objects have a very\nsimilar character. Whoever calls a thing purposive because its form\nis in accordance with plan or law may, if he so please, call natural\nobjects also purposive, provided only that he does not confuse this\nkind of purposiveness with that which belongs to a subjective human\naction. In order to have a purpose, it is absolutely necessary that\nthe efficient cause should be a concept, more precisely a concept of\nthe effect. But in Nature we can nowhere point to concepts operating\nas causes. A concept is never anything but the ideal nexus of cause\nand effect. Causes occur in Nature only in the form of percepts.\n\nDualism may talk of cosmic and natural purposes. Wherever for our\nperception there is a nexus of cause and effect according to law,\nthere the Dualist is free to assume that we have but the image of a\nnexus in which the Absolute has realised its purposes. For Monism,\non the other hand, the rejection of an Absolute Reality implies also\nthe rejection of the assumption of purposes in World and Nature.\n\n\n\n\nADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nNo one who, with an open mind, has followed the preceding argument,\nwill come to the conclusion that the author, in rejecting the\nconcept of purpose for extra-human facts, intended to side with those\nthinkers who reject this concept in order to be able to regard, first,\neverything outside human action and, next, human action itself, as\na purely natural process. Against such misunderstanding the author\nshould be protected by the fact that the process of thinking is in\nthis book represented as a purely spiritual process. The reason for\nrejecting the concept of purpose even for the spiritual world, so\nfar as it lies outside human action, is that in this world there is\nrevealed something higher than a purpose, such as is realised in human\nlife. And when we characterise as erroneous the attempt to conceive\nthe destiny of the human race as purposive according to the pattern\nof human purposiveness, we mean that the individual adopts purposes,\nand that the result of the total activity of humanity is composed of\nthese individual purposes. This result is something higher than its\ncomponent parts, the purposes of individual men.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXII\n\nMORAL IMAGINATION\n\n(DARWIN AND MORALITY)\n\n\nA free spirit acts according to his impulses, i.e., intuitions, which\nhis thought has selected out of the whole world of his ideas. For an\nunfree spirit, the reason why he singles out a particular intuition\nfrom his world of ideas, in order to make it the basis of an action,\nlies in the perceptual world which is given to him, i.e., in his\npast experiences. He recalls, before making a decision, what some\none else has done, or recommended as proper in an analogous case,\nor what God has commanded to be done in such a case, etc., and he\nacts on these recollections. A free spirit dispenses with these\npreliminaries. His decision is absolutely original. He cares as\nlittle what others have done in such a case as what commands they have\nlaid down. He has purely ideal (logical) reasons which determine him\nto select a particular concept out of the sum of his concepts, and\nto realise it in action. But his action will belong to perceptible\nreality. Consequently, what he achieves will coincide with a definite\ncontent of perception. His concept will have to be realised in a\nconcrete particular event. As a concept it will not contain this\nevent as particular. It will refer to the event only in its generic\ncharacter, just as, in general, a concept is related to a percept,\ne.g., the concept lion to a particular lion. The link between concept\nand percept is the idea (cp. pp. 104 ff). To the unfree spirit this\nintermediate link is given from the outset. Motives exist in his\nconsciousness from the first in the form of ideas. Whenever he intends\nto do anything he acts as he has seen others act, or he obeys the\ninstructions he receives in each separate case. Hence authority is most\neffective in the form of examples, i.e., in the form of traditional\npatterns of particular actions handed down for the guidance of the\nunfree spirit. A Christian models his conduct less on the teaching than\non the pattern of the Saviour. Rules have less value for telling men\npositively what to do than for telling them what to leave undone. Laws\ntake on the form of universal concepts only when they forbid actions,\nnot when they prescribe actions. Laws concerning what we ought to\ndo must be given to the unfree spirit in wholly concrete form. Clean\nthe street in front of your door! Pay your taxes to such and such an\namount to the tax-collector! etc. Conceptual form belongs to laws\nwhich inhibit actions. Thou shalt not steal! Thou shalt not commit\nadultery! But these laws, too, influence the unfree spirit only by\nmeans of a concrete idea, e.g., the idea of the punishments attached\nby human authority, or of the pangs of conscience, or of eternal\ndamnation, etc.\n\nEven when the motive to an action exists in universal conceptual form\n(e.g., Thou shalt do good to thy fellow-men! Thou shalt live so that\nthou promotest best thy welfare!), there still remains to be found,\nin the particular case, the concrete idea of the action (the relation\nof the concept to a content of perception). For a free spirit who\nis not guided by any model nor by fear of punishment, etc., this\ntranslation of the concept into an idea is always necessary.\n\nConcrete ideas are formed by us on the basis of our concepts by\nmeans of the imagination. Hence what the free spirit needs in order to\nrealise his concepts, in order to assert himself in the world, is moral\nimagination. This is the source of the free spirit's action. Only those\nmen, therefore, who are endowed with moral imagination are, properly\nspeaking, morally productive. Those who merely preach morality,\ni.e., those who merely excogitate moral rules without being able to\ncondense them into concrete ideas, are morally unproductive. They are\nlike those critics who can explain very competently how a work of art\nought to be made, but who are themselves incapable of the smallest\nartistic production.\n\nMoral imagination, in order to realise its ideas, must enter into\na determinate sphere of percepts. Human action does not create\npercepts, but transforms already existing percepts and gives them a\nnew character. In order to be able to transform a definite object of\nperception, or a sum of such objects, in accordance with a moral idea,\nit is necessary to understand the object's law (its mode of action\nwhich one intends to transform, or to which one wants to give a new\ndirection). Further, it is necessary to discover the procedure by which\nit is possible to change the given law into the new one. This part of\neffective moral activity depends on knowledge of the particular world\nof phenomena with which one has got to deal. We shall, therefore,\nfind it in some branch of scientific knowledge. Moral action, then,\npresupposes, in addition to the faculty of moral concepts [8] and of\nmoral imagination, the ability to alter the world of percepts without\nviolating the natural laws by which they are connected. This ability\nis moral technique. It may be learnt in the same sense in which science\nin general may be learnt. For, in general, men are better able to find\nconcepts for the world as it is, than productively to originate out\nof their imaginations future, and as yet non-existing, actions. Hence,\nit is very well possible for men without moral imagination to receive\nmoral ideas from others, and to embody these skilfully in the actual\nworld. Vice versa, it may happen that men with moral imagination lack\ntechnical skill, and are dependent on the service of other men for\nthe realisation of their ideas.\n\nIn so far as we require for moral action knowledge of the objects upon\nwhich we are about to act, our action depends upon such knowledge. What\nwe need to know here are the laws of nature. These belong to the\nNatural Sciences, not to Ethics.\n\nMoral imagination and the faculty of moral concepts can become\nobjects of theory only after they have first been employed by the\nindividual. But, thus regarded, they no longer regulate life, but have\nalready regulated it. They must now be treated as efficient causes,\nlike all other causes (they are purposes only for the subject). The\nstudy of them is, as it were, the Natural Science of moral ideas.\n\nEthics as a Normative Science, over and above this science, is\nimpossible.\n\nSome would maintain the normative character of moral laws at least\nin the sense that Ethics is to be taken as a kind of dietetic which,\nfrom the conditions of the organism's life, deduces general rules, on\nthe basis of which it hopes to give detailed directions to the body\n(Paulsen, System der Ethik). This comparison is mistaken, because\nour moral life cannot be compared with the life of the organism. The\nbehaviour of the organism occurs without any volition on our part. Its\nlaws are fixed data in our world; hence we can discover them and\napply them when discovered. Moral laws, on the other hand, do not\nexist until we create them. We cannot apply them until we have created\nthem. The error is due to the fact that moral laws are not at every\nmoment new creations, but are handed down by tradition. Those which\nwe take over from our ancestors appear to be given like the natural\nlaws of the organism. But it does not follow that a later generation\nhas the right to apply them in the same way as dietetic rules. For\nthey apply to individuals, and not, like natural laws, to specimens\nof a genus. Considered as an organism, I am such a generic specimen,\nand I shall live in accordance with nature if I apply the laws of my\ngenus to my particular case. As a moral agent I am an individual and\nhave my own private laws. [9]\n\nThe view here upheld appears to contradict that fundamental doctrine of\nmodern Natural Science which is known as the Theory of Evolution. But\nit only appears to do so. By evolution we mean the real development of\nthe later out of the earlier in accordance with natural law. In the\norganic world, evolution means that the later (more perfect) organic\nforms are real descendants of the earlier (imperfect) forms, and have\ngrown out of them in accordance with natural laws. The upholders\nof the theory of organic evolution believe that there was once a\ntime on our earth, when we could have observed with our own eyes\nthe gradual evolution of reptiles out of Proto-Amniotes, supposing\nthat we could have been present as men, and had been endowed with\na sufficiently long span of life. Similarly, Evolutionists suppose\nthat man could have watched the development of the solar system\nout of the primordial nebula of the Kant-Laplace hypothesis, if he\ncould have occupied a suitable spot in the world-ether during that\ninfinitely long period. But no Evolutionist will dream of maintaining\nthat he could from his concept of the primordial Amnion deduce that\nof the reptile with all its qualities, even if he had never seen\na reptile. Just as little would it be possible to derive the solar\nsystem from the concept of the Kant-Laplace nebula, if this concept\nof an original nebula had been formed only from the percept of the\nnebula. In other words, if the Evolutionist is to think consistently,\nhe is bound to maintain that out of earlier phases of evolution later\nones really develop; that once the concept of the imperfect and that\nof the perfect have been given, we can understand the connection. But\nin no case will he admit that the concept formed from the earlier\nphases is, in itself, sufficient for deducing from it the later\nphases. From this it follows for Ethics that, whilst we can understand\nthe connection of later moral concepts with earlier ones, it is not\npossible to deduce a single new moral idea from earlier ones. The\nindividual, as a moral being, produces his own content. This content,\nthus produced, is for Ethics a datum, as much as reptiles are a datum\nfor Natural Science. Reptiles have evolved out of the Proto-Amniotes,\nbut the scientist cannot manufacture the concept of reptiles out\nof the concept of the Proto-Amniotes. Later moral ideas evolve out\nof the earlier ones, but Ethics cannot manufacture out of the moral\nprinciples of an earlier age those of a later one. The confusion is due\nto the fact that, as scientists, we start with the facts before us,\nand then make a theory about them, whereas in moral action we first\nproduce the facts ourselves, and then theorise about them. In the\nevolution of the moral world-order we accomplish what, at a lower\nlevel, Nature accomplishes: we alter some part of the perceptual\nworld. Hence the ethical norm cannot straightway be made an object of\nknowledge, like a law of nature, for it must first be created. Only\nwhen that has been done can the norm become an object of knowledge.\n\nBut is it not possible to make the old a measure for the new? Is\nnot every man compelled to measure the deliverances of his moral\nimagination by the standard of traditional moral principles? If he\nwould be truly productive in morality, such measuring is as much an\nabsurdity as it would be an absurdity if one were to measure a new\nspecies in nature by an old one and say that reptiles, because they\ndo not agree with the Proto-Amniotes, are an illegitimate (degenerate)\nspecies.\n\nEthical Individualism, then, so far from being in opposition to\nthe theory of evolution, is a direct consequence of it. Haeckel's\ngenealogical tree, from protozoa up to man as an organic being, ought\nto be capable of being worked out without a breach of natural law,\nand without a gap in its uniform evolution, up to the individual\nas a being with a determinate moral nature. But, whilst it is quite\ntrue that the moral ideas of the individual have perceptibly grown\nout of those of his ancestors, it is also true that the individual\nis morally barren, unless he has moral ideas of his own.\n\nThe same Ethical Individualism which I have developed on the basis\nof the preceding principles, might be equally well developed on the\nbasis of the theory of evolution. The final result would be the same;\nonly the path by which it was reached would be different.\n\nThat absolutely new moral ideas should be developed by the moral\nimagination is for the theory of evolution no more inexplicable than\nthe development of one animal species out of another, provided only\nthat this theory, as a Monistic world-view, rejects, in morality as\nin science, every transcendent (metaphysical) influence. In doing\nso, it follows the same principle by which it is guided in seeking\nthe causes of new organic forms in forms already existing, but not\nin the interference of an extra-mundane God, who produces every new\nspecies in accordance with a new creative idea through supernatural\ninterference. Just as Monism has no use for supernatural creative ideas\nin explaining living organisms, so it is equally impossible for it\nto derive the moral world-order from causes which do not lie within\nthe world. It cannot admit any continuous supernatural influence\nupon moral life (divine government of the world from the outside),\nnor an influence either through a particular act of revelation at\na particular moment in history (giving of the ten commandments), or\nthrough God's appearance on the earth (Divinity of Christ [10]). Moral\nprocesses are, for Monism, natural products like everything else that\nexists, and their causes must be looked for in nature, i.e., in man,\nbecause man is the bearer of morality.\n\nEthical Individualism, then, is the crown of the edifice that Darwin\nand Haeckel have erected for Natural Science. It is the theory of\nevolution applied to the moral life.\n\nAnyone who restricts the concept of the natural from the outset to an\nartificially limited and narrowed sphere, is easily tempted not to\nallow any room within it for free individual action. The consistent\nEvolutionist does not easily fall a prey to such a narrow-minded\nview. He cannot let the process of evolution terminate with the ape,\nand acknowledge for man a supernatural origin. Again, he cannot\nstop short at the organic reactions of man and regard only these as\nnatural. He has to treat also the life of moral self-determination\nas the continuation of organic life. The Evolutionist, then,\nin accordance with his fundamental principles, can maintain only\nthat moral action evolves out of the less perfect forms of natural\nprocesses. He must leave the characterisation of action, i.e.,\nits determination as free action, to the immediate observation of\neach agent. All that he maintains is only that men have developed\nout of non-human ancestors. What the nature of men actually is must\nbe determined by observation of men themselves. The results of this\nobservation cannot possibly contradict the history of evolution. Only\nthe assertion that the results are such as to exclude their being due\nto a natural world-order would contradict recent developments in the\nNatural Sciences. [11]\n\nEthical Individualism, then, has nothing to fear from a Natural\nScience which understands itself. Observation yields freedom as the\ncharacteristic quality of the perfect form of human action. Freedom\nmust be attributed to the human will, in so far as the will realises\npurely ideal intuitions. For these are not the effects of a necessity\nacting upon them from without, but are grounded in themselves. When\nwe find that an action embodies such an ideal intuition, we feel it\nto be free. Freedom consists in this character of an action.\n\nWhat, then, from the standpoint of nature are we to say of the\ndistinction, already mentioned above (p. 8), between the two\nstatements, \"To be free means to be able to do what you will,\"\nand \"To be able, as you please, to strive or not to strive is the\nreal meaning of the dogma of free will\"? Hamerling bases his theory\nof free will precisely on this distinction, by declaring the first\nstatement to be correct but the second to be an absurd tautology. He\nsays, \"I can do what I will, but to say I can will what I will is an\nempty tautology.\" Whether I am able to do, i.e., to make real, what\nI will, i.e., what I have set before myself as my idea of action,\nthat depends on external circumstances and on my technical skill\n(cp. p. 200). To be free means to be able to determine by moral\nimagination out of oneself those ideas (motives) which lie at the\nbasis of action. Freedom is impossible if anything other than I myself\n(whether a mechanical process or God) determines my moral ideas. In\nother words, I am free only when I myself produce these ideas, but\nnot when I am merely able to realise the ideas which another being\nhas implanted in me. A free being is one who can will what he regards\nas right. Whoever does anything other than what he wills must be\nimpelled to it by motives which do not lie in himself. Such a man is\nunfree in his action. Accordingly, to be able to will, as you please,\nwhat you consider right or wrong means to be free or unfree as you\nplease. This is, of course, just as absurd as to identify freedom with\nthe faculty of doing what one is compelled to will. But this is just\nwhat Hamerling maintains when he says, \"It is perfectly true that the\nwill is always determined by motives, but it is absurd to say that on\nthis ground it is unfree; for a greater freedom can neither be desired\nnor conceived than the freedom to realise oneself in proportion to\none's own power and strength of will.\" On the contrary, it is well\npossible to desire a greater freedom and that a true freedom, viz.,\nthe freedom to determine for oneself the motives of one's volitions.\n\nUnder certain conditions a man may be induced to abandon the execution\nof his will; but to allow others to prescribe to him what he shall\ndo--in other words, to will what another and not what he himself\nregards as right--to this a man will submit only when he does not\nfeel free.\n\nExternal powers may prevent me from doing what I will, but that is\nonly to condemn me to do nothing or to be unfree. Not until they\nenslave my spirit, drive my motives out of my head, and put their\nown motives in the place of mine, do they really aim at making\nme unfree. That is the reason why the church attacks not only the\nmere doing, but especially the impure thoughts, i.e., motives of my\naction. And for the church all those motives are impure which she\nhas not herself authorised. A church does not produce genuine slaves\nuntil her priests turn themselves into advisers of consciences, i.e.,\nuntil the faithful depend upon the church, i.e., upon the confessional,\nfor the motives of their actions.\n\n\n\n\nADDITION TO REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nIn these chapters I have given an account of how every one may\nexperience in his actions something which makes him aware that his\nwill is free. It is especially important to recognise that we derive\nthe right to call an act of will free from the experience of an ideal\nintuition realising itself in the act. This can be nothing but a datum\nof observation, in the sense that we observe the development of human\nvolition in the direction towards the goal of attaining the possibility\nof just such volition sustained by purely ideal intuition. This\nattainment is possible because the ideal intuition is effective through\nnothing but its own self-dependent essence. Where such an intuition is\npresent in the mind, it has not developed itself out of the processes\nin the organism (cp. pp. 146 ff.), but the organic processes have\nretired to make room for the ideal processes. Observation of an act\nof will which embodies an intuition shows that out of it, likewise,\nall organically necessary activity has retired. The act of will is\nfree. No one can observe this freedom of will who is unable to see\nhow free will consists in this, that, first, the intuitive factor\nlames and represses the necessary activity of the human organism,\nand then puts in its place the spiritual activity of a will guided by\nideas. Only those who are unable to observe these two factors in the\nfree act of will believe that every act of will is unfree. Those who\nare able to observe them win through to the recognition that man is\nunfree in so far as he fails to repress organic activity completely,\nbut that this unfreedom is tending towards freedom, and that this\nfreedom, so far from being an abstract ideal, is a directive force\ninherent in human nature. Man is free in proportion as he succeeds\nin realising in his acts of will the same disposition of mind, which\npossesses him when he is conscious in himself of the formation of\npurely ideal (spiritual) intuitions.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIII\n\nTHE VALUE OF LIFE\n\n(OPTIMISM AND PESSIMISM)\n\n\nA counterpart of the question concerning the purpose and function\nof life (cp. pp. 190 ff.) is the question concerning its value. We\nmeet here with two mutually opposed views, and between them with all\nconceivable attempts at compromise. One view says that this world is\nthe best conceivable which could exist at all, and that to live and act\nin it is a good of inestimable value. Everything that exists displays\nharmonious and purposive co-operation and is worthy of admiration. Even\nwhat is apparently bad and evil may, from a higher point of view,\nbe seen to be a good, for it represents an agreeable contrast with\nthe good. We are the more able to appreciate the good when it is\nclearly contrasted with evil. Moreover, evil is not genuinely real;\nit is only that we perceive as evil a lesser degree of good. Evil is\nthe absence of good, it has no positive import of its own.\n\nThe other view maintains that life is full of misery and\nagony. Everywhere pain outweighs pleasure, sorrow outweighs\njoy. Existence is a burden, and non-existence would, from every point\nof view, be preferable to existence.\n\nThe chief representatives of the former view, i.e., Optimism, are\nShaftesbury and Leibnitz; the chief representatives of the second,\ni.e., Pessimism, are Schopenhauer and Eduard von Hartmann.\n\nLeibnitz says the world is the best of all possible worlds. A better\none is impossible. For God is good and wise. A good God wills to\ncreate the best possible world, a wise God knows which is the best\npossible. He is able to distinguish the best from all other and worse\npossibilities. Only an evil or an unwise God would be able to create\na world worse than the best possible.\n\nWhoever starts from this point of view will find it easy to lay down\nthe direction which human action must follow, in order to make its\ncontribution to the greatest good of the universe. All that man need do\nwill be to find out the counsels of God and to act in accordance with\nthem. If he knows what God's purposes are concerning the world and the\nhuman race, he will be able, for his part, to do what is right. And\nhe will be happy in the feeling that he is adding his share to all\nthe other good in the world. From this optimistic standpoint, then,\nlife is worth living. It is such as to stimulate us to co-operate with,\nand enter into, it.\n\nQuite different is the picture Schopenhauer paints. He thinks of\nultimate reality not as an all-wise and all-beneficent being, but\nas blind striving or will. Eternal striving, ceaseless craving for\nsatisfaction which yet is ever beyond reach, these are the fundamental\ncharacteristics of all will. For as soon as we have attained what we\nwant, a fresh need springs up, and so on. Satisfaction, when it occurs,\nendures always only for an infinitesimal time. The whole rest of our\nlives is unsatisfied craving, i.e., discontent and suffering. When at\nlast blind craving is dulled, every definite content is gone from our\nlives. Existence is filled with nothing but an endless ennui. Hence\nthe best we can do is to throttle all desires and needs within us\nand exterminate the will. Schopenhauer's Pessimism leads to complete\ninactivity; its moral aim is universal idleness.\n\nBy a very different argument Von Hartmann attempts to establish\nPessimism and to make use of it for Ethics. He attempts, in keeping\nwith the fashion of our age, to base his world-view on experience. By\nobservation of life he hopes to discover whether there is more pain or\nmore pleasure in the world. He passes in review before the tribunal of\nreason whatever men consider to be happiness and a good, in order to\nshow that all apparent satisfaction turns out, on closer inspection,\nto be nothing but illusion. It is illusion when we believe that in\nhealth, youth, freedom, sufficient income, love (sexual satisfaction),\npity, friendship and family life, honour, reputation, glory, power,\nreligious edification, pursuit of science and of art, hope of a life\nafter death, participation in the advancement of civilisation--that\nin all these we have sources of happiness and satisfaction. Soberly\nconsidered, every enjoyment brings much more evil and misery than\npleasure into the world. The disagreeableness of \"the morning after\"\nis always greater than the agreeableness of intoxication. Pain far\noutweighs pleasure in the world. No man, even though relatively the\nhappiest, would, if asked, wish to live through this miserable life\na second time. Now, since Hartmann does not deny the presence of an\nideal factor (wisdom) in the world, but, on the contrary, grants to it\nequal rights with blind striving (will), he can attribute the creation\nof the world to his Absolute Being only on condition that He makes\nthe pain in the world subserve a world-purpose that is wise. But the\npain of created beings is nothing but God's pain itself, for the life\nof Nature as a whole is identical with the life of God. An All-wise\nBeing can aim only at release from pain, and since all existence is\npain, at release from existence. Hence the purpose of the creation\nof the world is to transform existence into the non-existence which\nis so much better. The world-process is nothing but a continuous\nbattle against God's pain, a battle which ends with the annihilation\nof all existence. The moral life for men, therefore, will consist in\ntaking part in the annihilation of existence. The reason why God has\ncreated the world is that through the world he may free himself from\nhis infinite pain. The world must be regarded, \"as it were, as an\nitching eruption on the Absolute,\" by means of which the unconscious\nhealing power of the Absolute rids itself of an inward disease; or\nit may be regarded \"as a painful drawing-plaster which the All-One\napplies to itself in order first to divert the inner pain outwards,\nand then to get rid of it altogether.\" Human beings are members of the\nworld. In their sufferings God suffers. He has created them in order\nto split up in them his infinite pain. The pain which each one of us\nsuffers is but a drop in the infinite ocean of God's pain (Hartmann,\nPh\u00e4nomenologie des Sittlichen Bewusstseins, pp. 866 ff.).\n\nIt is man's duty to permeate his whole being with the recognition\nthat the pursuit of individual satisfaction (Egoism) is a folly, and\nthat he ought to be guided solely by the task of assisting in the\nredemption of God by unselfish service of the world-process. Thus,\nin contrast with the Pessimism of Schopenhauer, that of Von Hartmann\nleads us to devoted activity in a sublime cause.\n\nBut what of the claim that this view is based on experience?\n\nTo strive after satisfaction means that our activity reaches out beyond\nthe actual content of our lives. A creature is hungry, i.e., it desires\nsatiety, when its organic functions demand for their continuation the\nsupply of fresh life-materials in the form of nourishment. The pursuit\nof honour consists in that a man does not regard what he personally\ndoes or leaves undone as valuable unless it is endorsed by the approval\nof others from without. The striving for knowledge arises when a man\nis not content with the world which he sees, hears, etc., so long\nas he has not understood it. The fulfilment of the striving causes\npleasure in the individual who strives, failure causes pain. It is\nimportant here to observe that pleasure and pain are attached only to\nthe fulfilment or non-fulfilment of my striving. The striving itself\nis by no means to be regarded as a pain. Hence, if we find that,\nin the very moment in which a striving is fulfilled, at once a new\nstriving arises, this is no ground for saying that pleasure has given\nbirth to pain, because enjoyment in every case gives rise to a desire\nfor its repetition, or for a fresh pleasure. I can speak of pain only\nwhen desire runs up against the impossibility of fulfilment. Even\nwhen an enjoyment that I have had causes in me the desire for the\nexperience of a greater, more subtle, and more exotic pleasure, I\nhave no right to speak of this desire as a pain caused by the previous\npleasure until the means fail me to gain the greater and more subtle\npleasure. I have no right to regard pleasure as the cause of pain\nunless pain follows on pleasure as its consequence by natural law,\ne.g., when a woman's sexual pleasure is followed by the suffering of\nchild-birth and the cares of nursing. If striving caused pain, then the\nremoval of striving ought to be accompanied by pleasure. But the very\nreverse is true. To have no striving in one's life causes boredom,\nand boredom is always accompanied by displeasure. Now, since it may\nbe a long time before a striving meets with fulfilment, and since,\nin the interval, it is content with the hope of fulfilment, we must\nacknowledge that there is no connection in principle between pain\nand striving, but that pain depends solely on the non-fulfilment of\nthe striving. Schopenhauer, then, is wrong, in any case, in regarding\ndesire or striving (will) as being in principle the source of pain.\n\nIn truth, the very reverse of this is correct. Striving (desire) is in\nitself pleasurable. Who does not know the pleasure which is caused by\nthe hope of a remote but intensely desired enjoyment? This pleasure\nis the companion of all labour, the results of which will be enjoyed\nby us only in the future. It is a pleasure which is wholly independent\nof the attainment of the end. For when the aim has been attained, the\npleasure of satisfaction is added as a fresh thrill to the pleasure\nof striving. If anyone were to argue that the pain caused by the\nnon-attainment of an aim is increased by the pain of disappointed\nhope, and that thus, in the end, the pain of non-fulfilment will\nstill always outweigh the utmost possible pleasure of fulfilment, we\nshall have to reply that the reverse may be the case, and that the\nrecollection of past pleasure at a time of unsatisfied desire will\nas often mitigate the displeasure of non-satisfaction. Whoever at the\nmoment when his hopes suffer shipwreck exclaims, \"I have done my part,\"\nproves thereby my assertion. The blessed feeling of having willed the\nbest within one's powers is ignored by all who make every unsatisfied\ndesire an occasion for asserting that, not only has the pleasure of\nfulfilment been lost, but that the enjoyment of the striving itself\nhas been destroyed.\n\nThe satisfaction of a desire causes pleasure and its non-satisfaction\ncauses pain. But we have no right to infer from this fact that pleasure\nis nothing but the satisfaction of a desire, and pain nothing but\nits non-satisfaction. Both pleasure and pain may be experienced\nwithout being the consequence of desire. All illness is pain not\npreceded by any desire. If anyone were to maintain that illness is\nunsatisfied desire for health, he would commit the error of regarding\nthe inevitable and unconscious wish not to fall ill as a positive\ndesire. When some one receives a legacy from a rich relative of whose\nexistence he had not the faintest idea, he experiences a pleasure\nwithout having felt any preceding desire.\n\nHence, if we set out to inquire whether the balance is on the side\nof pleasure or of pain, we must allow in our calculation for the\npleasure of striving, the pleasure of the satisfaction of striving,\nand the pleasure which comes to us without any striving whatever. On\nthe debit side we shall have to enter the displeasure of boredom,\nthe displeasure of unfulfilled striving, and, lastly, the displeasure\nwhich comes to us without any striving on our part. Under this last\nheading we shall have to put also the displeasure caused by work that\nhas been forced upon us, not chosen by ourselves.\n\nThis leads us to the question, What is the right method for striking\nthe balance between the credit and the debit columns? Eduard von\nHartmann asserts that reason holds the scales. It is true that he\nsays (Philosophie des Unbewussten, 7th edition, vol. ii. p. 290):\n\"Pain and pleasure exist only in so far as they are actually being\nfelt.\" It follows that there can be no standard for pleasure other than\nthe subjective standard of feeling. I must feel whether the sum of my\ndisagreeable feelings, contrasted with my agreeable feelings, results\nin me in a balance of pleasure or of pain. But, notwithstanding this,\nVon Hartmann maintains that \"though the value of the life of every\nbeing can be set down only according to its own subjective measure,\nyet it follows by no means that every being is able to compute the\ncorrect algebraic sum of all the feelings of its life--or, in other\nwords, that its total estimate of its own life, with regard to its\nsubjective feelings, should be correct.\" But this means that rational\nestimation of feelings is reinstated as the standard of value. [12]\n\nIt is because Von Hartmann holds this view that he thinks it necessary,\nin order to arrive at a correct valuation of life, to clear out of\nthe way those factors which falsify our judgment about the balance\nof pleasure and of pain. He tries to do this in two ways: first,\nby showing that our desire (instinct, will) operates as a disturbing\nfactor in the sober estimation of feeling-values; e.g., whereas we\nought to judge that sexual enjoyment is a source of evil, we are\nbeguiled by the fact that the sexual instinct is very strong in us,\ninto pretending to experience a pleasure which does not occur in\nthe alleged intensity at all. We are bent on indulging ourselves,\nhence we do not acknowledge to ourselves that the indulgence makes\nus suffer. Secondly, Von Hartmann subjects feelings to a criticism\ndesigned to show, that the objects to which our feelings attach\nthemselves reveal themselves as illusions when examined by reason,\nand that our feelings are destroyed from the moment that our constantly\ngrowing insight sees through the illusions.\n\nVon Hartmann, then, conceives the matter as follows. Suppose an\nambitious man wants to determine clearly whether, up to the moment of\nhis inquiry, there has been a surplus of pleasure or of pain in his\nlife. He has to eliminate two sources of error that may affect his\njudgment. Being ambitious, this fundamental feature of his character\nwill make him see all the pleasures of the public recognition of\nhis achievements larger than they are, and all the insults suffered\nthrough rebuffs smaller than they are. At the time when he suffered\nthe rebuffs he felt the insults just because he is ambitious, but\nin recollection they appear to him in a milder light, whereas the\npleasures of recognition to which he is so much more susceptible\nleave a far deeper impression. Undeniably, it is a real benefit to an\nambitious man that it should be so, for the deception diminishes his\npain in the moment of self-analysis. But, none the less, it falsifies\nhis judgments. The sufferings which he now reviews as through a veil\nwere actually experienced by him in all their intensity. Hence he\nenters them at a wrong valuation on the debit side of his account. In\norder to arrive at a correct estimate, an ambitious man would have to\nlay aside his ambition for the time of his inquiry. He would have to\nreview his past life without any distorting glasses before his mind's\neye, else he will resemble a merchant who, in making up his books,\nenters among the items on the credit side his own zeal in business.\n\nBut Von Hartmann goes even further. He says the ambitious man must\nmake clear to himself that the public recognition which he craves\nis not worth having. By himself, or with the guidance of others,\nhe must attain the insight that rational beings cannot attach any\nvalue to recognition by others, seeing that \"in all matters which are\nnot vital questions of development, or which have not been definitely\nsettled by science,\" it is always as certain as anything can be \"that\nthe majority is wrong and the minority right.\" \"Whoever makes ambition\nthe lode-star of his life puts the happiness of his life at the mercy\nof so fallible a judgment\" (Philosophie des Unbewussten, vol. ii,\np. 332). If the ambitious man acknowledges all this to himself, he\nis bound to regard all the achievements of his ambition as illusions,\nincluding even the feelings which attach themselves to the satisfaction\nof his ambitious desires. This is the reason why Von Hartmann says\nthat we must also strike out of the balance-sheet of our life-values\nwhatever is seen to be illusory in our feelings of pleasure. What\nremains after that represents the sum-total of pleasure in life,\nand this sum is so small compared with the sum-total of pain that\nlife is no enjoyment and non-existence preferable to existence.\n\nBut whilst it is immediately evident that the interference of the\ninstinct of ambition produces self-deception in striking the balance\nof pleasures and thus leads to a false result, we must none the less\nchallenge what Von Hartmann says concerning the illusory character of\nthe objects to which pleasure is attached. For the elimination, from\nthe credit-side of life, of all pleasurable feelings which accompany\nactual or supposed illusions would positively falsify the balance\nof pleasure and of pain. An ambitious man has genuinely enjoyed the\nacclamations of the multitude, irrespective of whether subsequently\nhe himself, or some other person, recognises that this acclamation is\nan illusion. The pleasure, once enjoyed, is not one whit diminished by\nsuch recognition. Consequently the elimination of all these \"illusory\"\nfeelings from life's balance, so far from making our judgment about\nour feelings more correct, actually cancels out of life feelings\nwhich were genuinely there.\n\nAnd why are these feelings to be eliminated? He who has them derives\npleasure from them; he who has overcome them, gains through the\nexperience of self-conquest (not through the vain emotion: What a\nnoble fellow I am! but through the objective sources of pleasure which\nlie in the self-conquest) a pleasure which is, indeed, spiritualised,\nbut none the less valuable for that. If we strike feelings from the\ncredit side of pleasure in our account, on the ground that they\nare attached to objects which turn out to have been illusory, we\nmake the value of life dependent, not on the quantity, but on the\nquality of pleasure, and this, in turn, on the value of the objects\nwhich cause the pleasure. But if I am to determine the value of life\nonly by the quantity of pleasure or pain which it brings, I have no\nright to presuppose something else by which first to determine the\npositive or negative value of pleasure. If I say I want to compare\nquantity of pleasure and quantity of pain, in order to see which is\ngreater, I am bound to bring into my account all pleasures and pains\nin their actual intensities, regardless of whether they are based on\nillusions or not. If I credit a pleasure which rests on an illusion\nwith a lesser value for life than one which can justify itself before\nthe tribunal of reason, I make the value of life dependent on factors\nother than mere quantity of pleasure.\n\nWhoever, like Eduard von Hartmann, puts down pleasure as less valuable\nwhen it is attached to a worthless object, is like a merchant who\nenters the considerable profits of a toy-factory at only one-quarter\nof their real value on the ground that the factory produces nothing\nbut playthings for children.\n\nIf the point is simply to weigh quantity of pleasure against quantity\nof pain, we ought to leave the illusory character of the objects of\nsome pleasures entirely out of account.\n\nThe method, then, which Von Hartmann recommends, viz., rational\ncriticism of the quantities of pleasure and pain produced by life,\nhas taught us so far how we are to get the data for our calculation,\ni.e., what we are to put down on the one side of our account and what\non the other. But how are we to make the actual calculation? Is reason\nable also to strike the balance?\n\nA merchant makes a miscalculation when the gain calculated by him does\nnot balance with the profits which he has demonstrably enjoyed from his\nbusiness or is still expecting to enjoy. Similarly, the philosopher\nwill undoubtedly have made a mistake in his estimate, if he cannot\ndemonstrate in actual feeling the surplus of pleasure or, as the case\nmay be, of pain which his manipulation of the account may have yielded.\n\nFor the present I shall not criticise the calculations of those\nPessimists who support their estimate of the value of the world by\nan appeal to reason. But if we are to decide whether to carry on the\nbusiness of life or not, we shall demand first to be shown where the\nalleged balance of pain is to be found.\n\nHere we touch the point where reason is not in a position by itself\nto determine the surplus of pleasure or of pain, but where it must\nexhibit this surplus in life as something actually felt. For man\nreaches reality not through concepts by themselves, but through the\ninterpenetration of concepts and percepts (and feelings are percepts)\nwhich thinking brings about (cp. pp. 82 ff.). A merchant will give\nup his business only when the loss of goods, as calculated by his\naccountant, is actually confirmed by the facts. If the facts do not\nbear out the calculation, he asks his accountant to check the account\nonce more. That is exactly what a man will do in the business of\nlife. If a philosopher wants to prove to him that the pain is far\ngreater than the pleasure, but that he does not feel it so, then he\nwill reply: \"You have made a mistake in your theorisings; repeat\nyour analysis once more.\" But if there comes a time in a business\nwhen the losses are really so great that the firm's credit no longer\nsuffices to satisfy the creditors, bankruptcy results, even though\nthe merchant may avoid keeping himself informed by careful accounts\nabout the state of his affairs. Similarly, supposing the quantity\nof pain in a man's life became at any time so great that no hope\n(credit) of future pleasure could help him to get over the pain,\nthe bankruptcy of life's business would inevitably follow.\n\nNow the number of those who commit suicide is relatively small compared\nwith the number of those who live bravely on. Only very few men give up\nthe business of life because of the pain involved. What follows? Either\nthat it is untrue to say that the quantity of pain is greater than\nthe quantity of pleasure, or that we do not make the continuation of\nlife dependent on the quantity of felt pleasure or pain.\n\nIn a very curious way, Eduard von Hartmann's Pessimism, having\nconcluded that life is valueless because it contains a surplus of pain,\nyet affirms the necessity of going on with life. This necessity lies\nin the fact that the world-purpose mentioned above (p. 216) can be\nachieved only by the ceaseless, devoted labour of human beings. But\nso long as men still pursue their egoistical appetites they are unfit\nfor this devoted labour. It is not until experience and reason have\nconvinced them that the pleasures which Egoism pursues are incapable\nof attainment, that they give themselves up to their proper task. In\nthis way the pessimistic conviction is offered as the fountain of\nunselfishness. An education based on Pessimism is to exterminate\nEgoism by convincing it of the hopelessness of achieving its aims.\n\nAccording to this view, then, the striving for pleasure is\nfundamentally inherent in human nature. It is only through the insight\ninto the impossibility of satisfaction that this striving abdicates\nin favour of the higher tasks of humanity.\n\nIt is, however, impossible to say of this ethical theory, which\nexpects from the establishment of Pessimism a devotion to unselfish\nends in life, that it really overcomes Egoism in the proper sense of\nthe word. The moral ideas are said not to be strong enough to dominate\nthe will until man has learnt that the selfish striving after pleasure\ncannot lead to any satisfaction. Man, whose selfishness desires the\ngrapes of pleasure, finds them sour because he cannot attain them,\nand so he turns his back on them and devotes himself to an unselfish\nlife. Moral ideals, then, according to the opinion of Pessimists,\nare too weak to overcome Egoism, but they establish their kingdom\non the territory which previous recognition of the hopelessness of\nEgoism has cleared for them.\n\nIf men by nature strive after pleasure but are unable to attain it,\nit follows that annihilation of existence and salvation through\nnon-existence are the only rational ends. And if we accept the view\nthat the real bearer of the pain of the world is God, it follows that\nthe task of men consists in helping to bring about the salvation of\nGod. To commit suicide does not advance, but hinders, the realisation\nof this aim. God must rationally be conceived as having created men\nfor the sole purpose of bringing about his salvation through their\naction, else would creation be purposeless. Every one of us has to\nperform his own definite task in the general work of salvation. If he\nwithdraws from the task by suicide, another has to do the work which\nwas intended for him. Somebody else must bear in his stead the agony\nof existence. And since in every being it is, at bottom, God who is\nthe ultimate bearer of all pain, it follows that to commit suicide\ndoes not in the least diminish the quantity of God's pain, but rather\nimposes upon God the additional difficulty of providing a substitute.\n\nThis whole theory presupposes that pleasure is the standard of value\nfor life. Now life manifests itself through a number of instincts\n(needs). If the value of life depended on its producing more pleasure\nthan pain, an instinct would have to be called valueless which brought\nto its owner a balance of pain. Let us, if you please, inspect instinct\nand pleasure, in order to see whether the former can be measured by\nthe latter. And lest we give rise to the suspicion that life does not\nbegin for us below the sphere of the \"aristocrats of the intellect,\" we\nshall begin our examination with a \"purely animal\" need, viz., hunger.\n\nHunger arises when our organs are unable to continue functioning\nwithout a fresh supply of food. What a hungry man desires, in the\nfirst instance, is to have his hunger stilled. As soon as the supply\nof nourishment has reached the point where hunger ceases, everything\nhas been attained that the food-instinct craves. The pleasure which is\nconnected with satiety consists, to begin with, in the removal of the\npain which is caused by hunger. But to the mere food-instinct there\nis added a further need. For man does not merely desire to restore,\nby the consumption of food, the disturbance in the functioning of his\norgans, or to get rid of the pain of hunger, but he seeks to effect\nthis to the accompaniment of pleasurable sensations of taste. When\nhe feels hungry, and is within half an hour of a meal to which he\nlooks forward with pleasure, he avoids spoiling his enjoyment of the\nbetter food by taking inferior food which might satisfy his hunger\nsooner. He needs hunger in order to get the full enjoyment out of\nhis meal. Thus hunger becomes for him at the same time a cause of\npleasure. Supposing all the hunger in the world could be satisfied,\nwe should get the total quantity of pleasure which we owe to the\nexistence of the desire for nourishment. But we should still have to\nadd the additional pleasure which gourmets gain by cultivating the\nsensibility of their taste-nerves beyond the common measure.\n\nThe greatest conceivable value of this quantity of pleasure would be\nreached, if no need remained unsatisfied which was in any way connected\nwith this kind of pleasure, and if with the smooth of pleasure we\nhad not at the same time to take a certain amount of the rough of pain.\n\nModern Science holds the view that Nature produces more life than it\ncan maintain, i.e., that Nature also produces more hunger than it is\nable to satisfy. The surplus of life thus produced is condemned to a\npainful death in the struggle for existence. Granted that the needs\nof life are, at every moment of the world-process, greater than the\navailable means of satisfaction, and that the enjoyment of life is\ncorrespondingly diminished, yet such enjoyment as actually occurs is\nnot one whit reduced thereby. Wherever a desire is satisfied, there\nthe corresponding quantity of pleasure exists, even though in the\ncreature itself which desires, or in its fellow-creatures, there are\na large number of unsatisfied instincts. What is diminished is, not\nthe quantity, but the \"value\" of the enjoyment of life. If only a part\nof the needs of a living creature find satisfaction, it experiences\nstill a corresponding pleasure. This pleasure is inferior in value in\nproportion as it is inadequate to the total demand of life within a\ngiven group of desires. We might represent this value as a fraction,\nthe numerator of which is the actually experienced pleasure, whilst the\ndenominator is the sum-total of needs. This fraction has the value 1\nwhen the numerator and the denominator are equal, i.e., when all needs\nare also satisfied. The fraction becomes greater than 1 when a creature\nexperiences more pleasure than its desires demand. It becomes smaller\nthan 1 when the quantity of pleasure falls short of the sum-total\nof desires. But the fraction can never have the value 0 so long as\nthe numerator has any value at all, however small. If a man were to\nmake up the account before his death and to distribute in imagination\nover the whole of life the quantity belonging to a particular instinct\n(e.g., hunger), as well as the demands of this instinct, then the total\npleasure which he has experienced might have only a very small value,\nbut this value would never become altogether nil. If the quantity of\npleasure remains constant, then with every increase in the needs of\nthe creature the value of the pleasure diminishes. The same is true for\nthe totality of life in Nature. The greater the number of creatures in\nproportion to those which are able fully to satisfy their instincts,\nthe smaller is the average pleasure-value of life. The cheques on\nlife's pleasure which are drawn in our favour in the form of our\ninstincts, become increasingly less valuable in proportion as we\ncannot expect to cash them at their full face value. Suppose I get\nenough to eat on three days and am then compelled to go hungry for\nanother three days, the actual pleasure on the three days of eating is\nnot thereby diminished. But I have now to think of it as distributed\nover six days, and this reduces its \"value\" for my food-instinct by\nhalf. The same applies to the quantity of pleasure as measured by the\ndegree of my need. Suppose I have hunger enough for two sandwiches\nand can only get one, the pleasure which this one gives me has only\nhalf the value it would have had if the eating of it had stilled my\nhunger. This is the way in which we determine the value of a pleasure\nin life. We determine it by the needs of life. Our desires supply the\nmeasure; pleasure is what is measured. The pleasure of stilling hunger\nhas value only because hunger exists, and it has determinate value\nthrough the proportion which it bears to the intensity of the hunger.\n\nUnfulfilled demands of our life throw their shadow even upon fulfilled\ndesires, and thus detract from the value of pleasurable hours. But we\nmay speak also of the present value of a feeling of pleasure. This\nvalue is the smaller, the more insignificant the pleasure is in\nproportion to the duration and intensity of our desire.\n\nA quantity of pleasure has its full value for us when its duration and\ndegree exactly coincide with our desire. A quantity of pleasure which\nis smaller than our desire diminishes the value of the pleasure. A\nquantity which is greater produces a surplus which has not been\ndemanded and which is felt as pleasure only so long as, whilst\nenjoying the pleasure, we can correspondingly increase the intensity\nof our desire. If we are not able to keep pace in the increase of\nour desire with the increase in pleasure, then pleasure turns into\ndispleasure. The object which would otherwise satisfy us, when it\nassails us unbidden makes us suffer. This proves that pleasure has\nvalue for us only so long as we have desires by which to measure\nit. An excess of pleasurable feeling turns into pain. This may be\nobserved especially in those men whose desire for a given kind of\npleasure is very small. In people whose desire for food is dulled,\neating easily produces nausea. This again shows that desire is the\nmeasure of value for pleasure.\n\nNow Pessimism might reply that an unsatisfied desire for food produces,\nnot only the pain of a lost enjoyment, but also positive ills, agony,\nand misery in the world. It appeals for confirmation to the untold\nmisery of all who are harassed by anxieties about food, and to the\nvast amount of pain which for these unfortunates results indirectly\nfrom their lack of food. And if it wants to extend its assertion also\nto non-human nature, it can point to the agonies of animals which,\nin certain seasons, die from lack of food. Concerning all these evils\nthe Pessimist maintains that they far outweigh the quantity of pleasure\nwhich the food-instinct brings into the world.\n\nThere is no doubt that it is possible to compare pleasure and pain\none with another, and determine the surplus of the one or the other\nas we determine commercial gain or loss. But if Pessimists think that\na surplus on the side of pain is a ground for inferring that life is\nvalueless, they fall into the mistake of making a calculation which\nin actual life is never made.\n\nOur desire, in any given case, is directed to a particular object. The\nvalue of the pleasure of satisfaction, as we have seen, will be the\ngreater in proportion as the quantity of the pleasure is greater\nrelatively to the intensity of our desire. [13] It depends, further,\non this intensity how large a quantity of pain we are willing to\nbear in order to gain the pleasure. We compare the quantity of pain,\nnot with the quantity of pleasure, but with the intensity of our\ndesire. He who finds great pleasure in eating will, by reason of his\npleasure in better times, be more easily able to bear a period of\nhunger than one who does not derive pleasure from the satisfaction\nof the instinct for food. A woman who wants a child compares the\npleasures resulting from the possession of a child, not with the\nquantities of pain due to pregnancy, birth, nursing, etc., but with\nher desire for the possession of the child.\n\nWe never aim at a certain quantity of pleasure in the abstract,\nbut at concrete satisfaction of a perfectly determinate kind. When\nwe are aiming at a definite object or a definite sensation, it\nwill not satisfy us to be offered some other object or some other\nsensation, even though they give the same amount of pleasure. If we\ndesire satisfaction of hunger, we cannot substitute for the pleasure\nwhich this satisfaction would bring a pleasure equally great but\nproduced by a walk. Only if our desire were, quite generally, for\na certain quantity of pleasure, would it have to die away at once\nif this pleasure were unattainable except at the price of an even\ngreater quantity of pain. But because we desire a determinate kind of\nsatisfaction, we experience the pleasure of realisation even when,\nalong with it, we have to bear an even greater pain. The instincts\nof living beings tend in a determinate direction and aim at concrete\nobjects, and it is just for this reason that it is impossible, in our\ncalculations, to set down as an equivalent factor the quantities of\npain which we have to bear in the pursuit of our object. Provided the\ndesire is sufficiently intense to be still to some degree in existence\neven after having overcome the pain--however great that pain, taken\nin the abstract, may be--the pleasure of satisfaction may still be\nenjoyed to its full extent. The desire, therefore, does not measure\nthe pain directly against the pleasure which we attain, but indirectly\nby measuring the pain (proportionately) against its own intensity. The\nquestion is not whether the pleasure to be gained is greater than the\npain, but whether the desire for the object at which we aim is greater\nthan the inhibitory effect of the pain which we have to face. If\nthe inhibition is greater than the desire, the latter yields to the\ninevitable, slackens, and ceases to strive. But inasmuch as we strive\nafter a determinate kind of satisfaction, the pleasure we gain thereby\nacquires an importance which makes it possible, once satisfaction has\nbeen attained, to allow in our calculation for the inevitable pain\nonly in so far as it has diminished the intensity of our desire. If\nI am passionately fond of beautiful views, I never calculate the\namount of pleasure which the view from the mountain-top gives me as\ncompared directly with the pain of the toilsome ascent and descent;\nbut I reflect whether, after having overcome all difficulties, my\ndesire for the view will still be sufficiently intense. Thus pleasure\nand pain can be made commensurate only mediately through the intensity\nof the desire. Hence the question is not at all whether there is a\nsurplus of pleasure or of pain, but whether the desire for pleasure\nis sufficiently intense to overcome the pain.\n\nA proof for the accuracy of this view is to be found in the fact,\nthat we put a higher value on pleasure when it has to be purchased\nat the price of great pain than when it simply falls into our lap\nlike a gift from heaven. When sufferings and agonies have toned down\nour desire and yet after all our aim is attained, then the pleasure\nis all the greater in proportion to the intensity of the desire that\nhas survived. Now it is just this proportion which, as I have shown\n(p. 233), represents the value of the pleasure. A further proof is to\nbe found in the fact that all living creatures (including men) develop\ntheir instincts as long as they are able to bear the opposition of\npains and agonies. The struggle for existence is but a consequence\nof this fact. All living creatures strive to expand, and only those\nabandon the struggle whose desires are throttled by the overwhelming\nmagnitude of the difficulties with which they meet. Every living\ncreature seeks food until sheer lack of food destroys its life. Man,\ntoo, does not turn his hand against himself until, rightly or wrongly,\nhe believes that he cannot attain those aims in life which alone\nseem to him worth striving for. So long as he still believes in\nthe possibility of attaining what he thinks worth striving for, he\nwill battle against all pains and miseries. Philosophy would have to\nconvince man that striving is rational only when pleasure outweighs\npain, for it is his nature to strive for the attainment of the objects\nwhich he desires, so long as he can bear the inevitable incidental\npain, however great that may be. Such a philosophy, however, would be\nmistaken, because it would make the human will dependent on a factor\n(the surplus of pleasure over pain) which, at first, is wholly foreign\nto man's point of view. The original measure of his will is his desire,\nand desire asserts itself as long as it can. If I am compelled,\nin purchasing a certain quantity of apples, to take twice as many\nrotten ones as sound ones--because the seller wishes to clear out his\nstock--I shall not hesitate a moment to take the bad apples as well,\nif I put so high a value on the smaller quantity of good apples that\nI am prepared, in addition to the purchase price, to bear also the\nexpense for the transportation of the rotten goods. This example\nillustrates the relation between the quantities of pleasure and of\npain which are caused by a given instinct. I determine the value of\nthe good apples, not by subtracting the sum of the good from that of\nthe bad ones, but by the fact that, in spite of the presence of the\nbad ones, I still attach a value to the good ones.\n\nJust as I leave out of account the bad apples in the enjoyment of\nthe good ones, so I surrender myself to the satisfaction of a desire\nafter having shaken off the inevitable pains.\n\nSupposing even Pessimism were in the right with its assertion that the\nworld contains more pain than pleasure, it would nevertheless have no\ninfluence upon the will, for living beings would still strive after\nsuch pleasure as remains. The empirical proof that pain overbalances\npleasure is indeed effective for showing up the futility of that\nschool of philosophy, which looks for the value of life in a surplus\nof pleasure (Eud\u00e6monism), but not for exhibiting the will, as such, as\nirrational. For the will is not set upon a surplus of pleasure, but on\nwhatever quantity of pleasure remains after subtracting the pain. This\nremaining pleasure still appears always as an object worth pursuing.\n\nAn attempt has been made to refute Pessimism by asserting that it is\nimpossible to determine by calculation the surplus of pleasure or\nof pain in the world. The possibility of every calculation depends\non our being able to compare the things to be calculated in respect\nof their quantity. Every pain and every pleasure has a definite\nquantity (intensity and duration). Further, we can compare pleasurable\nfeelings of different kinds one with another, at least approximately,\nwith regard to their intensity. We know whether we derive more\npleasure from a good cigar or from a good joke. No objection can be\nraised against the comparability of different pleasures and pains\nin respect of their intensity. The thinker who sets himself the\ntask of determining the surplus of pleasure or pain in the world,\nstarts from presuppositions which are undeniably legitimate. It is\npossible to maintain that the Pessimistic results are false, but\nit is not possible to doubt that quantities of pleasure and pain\ncan be scientifically estimated, and that the surplus of the one\nor the other can thereby be determined. It is incorrect, however,\nto assert that from this calculation any conclusions can be drawn\nfor the human will. The cases in which we really make the value of\nour activity dependent on whether pleasure or pain shows a surplus,\nare those in which the objects towards which our activity is directed\nare indifferent to us. If it is a question whether, after the day's\nwork, I am to amuse myself by a game or by light conversation, and\nif I am totally indifferent what I do so long as it amuses me, then I\nsimply ask myself: What gives me the greatest surplus of pleasure? And\nI abandon the activity altogether if the scales incline towards the\nside of displeasure. If we are buying a toy for a child we consider,\nin selecting, what will give him the greatest pleasure, but in all\nother cases we are not determined exclusively by considerations of\nthe balance of pleasure.\n\nHence, if Pessimistic thinkers believe that they are preparing\nthe ground for an unselfish devotion to the work of civilisation,\nby demonstrating that there is a greater quantity of pain than of\npleasure in life, they forget altogether that the human will is so\nconstituted that it cannot be influenced by this knowledge. The whole\nstriving of men is directed towards the greatest possible satisfaction\nthat is attainable after overcoming all difficulties. The hope of this\nsatisfaction is the basis of all human activity. The work of every\nsingle individual and the whole achievement of civilisation have\ntheir roots in this hope. The Pessimistic theory of Ethics thinks\nit necessary to represent the pursuit of pleasure as impossible,\nin order that man may devote himself to his proper moral tasks. But\nthese moral tasks are nothing but the concrete natural and spiritual\ninstincts; and he strives to satisfy these notwithstanding all\nincidental pain. The pursuit of pleasure, then, which the Pessimist\nsets himself to eradicate is nowhere to be found. But the tasks which\nman has to fulfil are fulfilled by him because from his very nature\nhe wills to fulfil them. The Pessimistic system of Ethics maintains\nthat a man cannot devote himself to what he recognises as his task\nin life until he has first given up the desire for pleasure. But no\nsystem of Ethics can ever invent other tasks than the realisation of\nthose satisfactions which human desires demand, and the fulfilment of\nman's moral ideas. No Ethical theory can deprive him of the pleasure\nwhich he experiences in the realisation of what he desires. When\nthe Pessimist says, \"Do not strive after pleasure, for pleasure is\nunattainable; strive instead after what you recognise to be your task,\"\nwe must reply that it is human nature to strive to do one's tasks,\nand that philosophy has gone astray in inventing the principle that man\nstrives for nothing but pleasure. He aims at the satisfaction of what\nhis nature demands, and the attainment of this satisfaction is to him\na pleasure. Pessimistic Ethics, in demanding that we should strive,\nnot after pleasure, but after the realisation of what we recognise as\nour task, lays its finger on the very thing which man wills in virtue\nof his own nature. There is no need for man to be turned inside out by\nphilosophy, there is no need for him to discard his nature, in order\nto be moral. Morality means striving for an end so long as the pain\nconnected with this striving does not inhibit the desire for the end\naltogether; and this is the essence of all genuine will. Ethics is not\nfounded on the eradication of all desire for pleasure, in order that,\nin its place, bloodless moral ideas may set up their rule where no\nstrong desire for pleasure stands in their way, but it is based on\nthe strong will, sustained by ideal intuitions, which attains its\nend even when the path to it is full of thorns.\n\nMoral ideals have their root in the moral imagination of man. Their\nrealisation depends on the desire for them being sufficiently intense\nto overcome pains and agonies. They are man's own intuitions. In them\nhis spirit braces itself to action. They are what he wills, because\ntheir realisation is his highest pleasure. He needs no Ethical theory\nfirst to forbid him to strive for pleasure and then to prescribe\nto him what he shall strive for. He will, of himself, strive for\nmoral ideals provided his moral imagination is sufficiently active\nto inspire him with the intuitions, which give strength to his will\nto overcome all resistance.\n\nIf a man strives towards sublimely great ideals, it is because they are\nthe content of his will, and because their realisation will bring him\nan enjoyment compared with which the pleasure which inferior spirits\ndraw from the satisfaction of their commonplace needs is a mere\nnothing. Idealists delight in translating their ideals into reality.\n\nAnyone who wants to eradicate the pleasure which the fulfilment of\nhuman desires brings, will have first to degrade man to the position\nof a slave who does not act because he wills, but because he must. For\nthe attainment of the object of will gives pleasure. What we call the\ngood is not what a man must do, but what he wills to do when he unfolds\nthe fulness of his nature. Anyone who does not acknowledge this must\ndeprive man of all the objects of his will, and then prescribe to\nhim from without what he is to make the content of his will.\n\nMan values the satisfaction of a desire because the desire springs\nfrom his own nature. What he attains is valuable because it is the\nobject of his will. If we deny any value to the ends which men do\nwill, then we shall have to look for the ends that are valuable among\nobjects which men do not will.\n\nA system of Ethics, then, which is built up on Pessimism has its root\nin the contempt for man's moral imagination. Only he who does not\nconsider the individual human mind capable of determining for itself\nthe content of its striving, can look for the sum and substance of\nwill in the craving for pleasure. A man without imagination does not\ncreate moral ideas; they must be imparted to him. Physical nature\nsees to it that he seeks the satisfaction of his lower desires; but\nfor the development of the whole man the desires which have their\norigin in the spirit are fully as necessary. Only those who believe\nthat man has no such spiritual desires at all can maintain that they\nmust be imparted to him from without. On that view it will also be\ncorrect to say that it is man's duty to do what he does not will to\ndo. Every Ethical system which demands of man that he should suppress\nhis will in order to fulfil tasks which he does not will, works, not\nwith the whole man, but with a stunted being who lacks the faculty\nof spiritual desires. For a man who has been harmoniously developed,\nthe so-called ideas of the Good lie, not without, but within the\nrange of his will. Moral action consists, not in the extirpation\nof one's individual will, but in the fullest development of human\nnature. To regard moral ideals as attainable only on condition that\nman destroys his individual will, is to ignore the fact that these\nideals are as much rooted in man's will as the satisfaction of the\nso-called animal instincts.\n\nIt cannot be denied that the views here outlined may easily be\nmisunderstood. Immature youths without any moral imagination like to\nlook upon the instincts of their half-developed natures as the full\nsubstance of humanity, and reject all moral ideas which they have\nnot themselves originated, in order that they may \"live themselves\nout\" without restriction. But it goes without saying that a theory\nwhich holds for a fully developed man does not hold for half-developed\nboys. Anyone who still requires to be brought by education to the point\nwhere his moral nature breaks through the shell of his lower passions,\ncannot expect to be measured by the same standard as a mature man. But\nit was not my intention to set down what a half-fledged youth requires\nto be taught, but the essential nature of a mature man. My intention\nwas to demonstrate the possibility of freedom, which becomes manifest,\nnot in actions physically or psychically determined, but in actions\nsustained; by spiritual intuitions.\n\nEvery mature man is the maker of his own value. He does not aim at\npleasure, which comes to him as a gift of grace on the part of Nature\nor of the Creator; nor does he live for the sake of what he recognises\nas duty, after he has put away from him the desire for pleasure. He\nacts as he wills, that is, in accordance with his moral intuitions;\nand he finds in the attainment of what he wills the true enjoyment of\nlife. He determines the value of his life by measuring his attainments\nagainst his aims. An Ethical system which puts \"ought\" in the place of\n\"will,\" duty in the place of inclination, is consistent in determining\nthe value of man by the ratio between the demands of duty and his\nactual achievements. It applies to man a measure that is external to\nhis own nature. The view which I have here developed points man back\nto himself. It recognises as the true value of life nothing except\nwhat each individual regards as such by the measure of his own will. A\nvalue of life which the individual does not recognise is as little\nacknowledged by my views as a purpose of life which does not spring\nfrom the value thus recognised. My view looks upon the individual as\nhis own master and the assessor of his own value.\n\n\n\n\nADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nThe argument of this chapter is open to misapprehension by those who\nobstinately insist on the apparent objection, that the will, as such,\nis the irrational factor in man, and that its irrationality should\nbe exhibited in order to make man see, that the goal of his moral\nendeavour ought to be his ultimate emancipation from will. Precisely\nsuch an illusory objection has been brought against me by a competent\ncritic who urged that it is the business of the philosopher to\nmake good what animals and most men thoughtlessly forget, viz., to\nstrike a genuine balance of life's account. But the objection ignores\nprecisely the main point. If freedom is to be realised, the will in\nhuman nature must be sustained by intuitive thinking. At the same\ntime we find that the will may also be determined by factors other\nthan intuition, and that morality and its work can have no other root\nthan the free realisation of intuition issuing from man's essential\nnature. Ethical Individualism is well fitted to exhibit morality in\nits full dignity. It does not regard true morality as the outward\nconformity of the will to a norm. Morality, for it, consists in the\nactions which issue from the unfolding of man's moral will as an\nintegral part of his whole nature, so that immorality appears to man\nas a stunting and crippling of his nature.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nXIV\n\nTHE INDIVIDUAL AND THE GENUS\n\n\nThe view that man is a wholly self-contained, free individuality stands\nin apparent conflict with the facts, that he appears as a member of\na natural whole (race, tribe, nation, family, male or female sex),\nand that he acts within a whole (state, church, etc.). He exhibits\nthe general characteristics of the community to which he belongs,\nand gives to his actions a content which is defined by the place\nwhich he occupies within a social whole.\n\nThis being so, is any individuality left at all? Can we regard man\nas a whole in himself, in view of the fact that he grows out of a\nwhole and fits as a member into a whole?\n\nThe character and function of a member of a whole are defined by\nthe whole. A tribe is a whole, and all members of the tribe exhibit\nthe peculiar characteristics which are conditioned by the nature of\nthe tribe. The character and activity of the individual member are\ndetermined by the character of the tribe. Hence the physiognomy and\nthe conduct of the individual have something generic about them. When\nwe ask why this or that in a man is so or so, we are referred from\nthe individual to the genus. The genus explains why something in the\nindividual appears in the form observed by us.\n\nBut man emancipates himself from these generic characteristics. He\ndevelops qualities and activities the reason for which we can seek\nonly in himself. The generic factors serve him only as a means to\ndevelop his own individual nature. He uses the peculiarities with\nwhich nature has endowed him as material, and gives them a form which\nexpresses his own individuality. We seek in vain for the reason\nof such an expression of a man's individuality in the laws of the\ngenus. We are dealing here with an individual who can be explained\nonly through himself. If a man has reached the point of emancipation\nfrom what is generic in him, and we still attempt to explain all his\nqualities by reference to the character of the genus, then we lack\nthe organ for apprehending what is individual.\n\nIt is impossible to understand a human being completely if one makes\nthe concept of the genus the basis of one's judgment. The tendency\nto judge according to the genus is most persistent where differences\nof sex are involved. Man sees in woman, woman in man, almost always\ntoo much of the generic characteristics of the other's sex, and too\nlittle of what is individual in the other. In practical life this does\nless harm to men than to women. The social position of women is, in\nmost instances, so low because it is not determined by the individual\ncharacteristics of each woman herself, but by the general ideas which\nare current concerning the natural function and needs of woman. A\nman's activity in life is determined by his individual capacity and\ninclination, whereas a woman's activity is supposed to be determined\nsolely by the fact that she is just a woman. Woman is to be the slave\nof the generic, of the general idea of womanhood. So long as men\ndebate whether woman, from her \"natural disposition,\" is fitted for\nthis, that, or the other profession, the so-called Woman's Question\nwill never advance beyond the most elementary stage. What it lies in\nwoman's nature to strive for had better be left to woman herself to\ndecide. If it is true that women are fitted only for that profession\nwhich is theirs at present, then they will hardly have it in them to\nattain any other. But they must be allowed to decide for themselves\nwhat is conformable to their nature. To all who fear an upheaval of\nour social structure, should women be treated as individuals and not\nas specimens of their sex, we need only reply that a social structure\nin which the status of one-half of humanity is unworthy of a human\nbeing stands itself in great need of improvement. [14]\n\nAnyone who judges human beings according to their generic character\nstops short at the very point beyond which they begin to be individuals\nwhose activity rests on free self-determination. Whatever lies short of\nthis point may naturally become matter for scientific study. Thus the\ncharacteristics of race, tribe, nation, and sex are the subject-matter\nof special sciences. Only men who are simply specimens of the genus\ncould possibly fit the generic picture which the methods of these\nsciences produce. But all these sciences are unable to get as far\nas the unique character of the single individual. Where the sphere\nof freedom (thinking and acting) begins, there the possibility\nof determining the individual according to the laws of his genus\nceases. The conceptual content which man, by an act of thought,\nhas to connect with percepts, in order to possess himself fully of\nreality (cp. pp. 83 ff.), cannot be fixed by anyone once and for all,\nand handed down to humanity ready-made. The individual must gain\nhis concepts through his own intuition. It is impossible to deduce\nfrom any concept of the genus how the individual ought to think;\nthat depends singly and solely on the individual himself. So, again,\nit is just as impossible to determine, on the basis of the universal\ncharacteristics of human nature, what concrete ends the individual\nwill set before himself. Anyone who wants to understand the single\nindividual must penetrate to the innermost core of his being, and\nnot stop short at those qualities which he shares with others. In\nthis sense every single human being is a problem. And every science\nwhich deals only with abstract thoughts and generic concepts is but\na preparation for the kind of knowledge which we gain when a human\nindividual communicates to us his way of viewing the world, and for\nthat other kind of knowledge which each of us gains from the content\nof his own will. Wherever we feel that here we are dealing with a\nman who has emancipated his thinking from all that is generic, and\nhis will from the grooves typical of his kind, there we must cease\nto call in any concepts of our own making if we would understand\nhis nature. Knowledge consists in the combination by thought of a\nconcept and a percept. With all other objects the observer has to\ngain his concepts through his intuition. But if the problem is to\nunderstand a free individuality, we need only to take over into our\nown minds those concepts by which the individual determines himself,\nin their pure form (without admixture). Those who always mix their\nown ideas into their judgment on another person can never attain to\nthe understanding of an individuality. Just as the free individual\nemancipates himself from the characteristics of the genus, so our\nknowledge of the individual must emancipate itself from the methods\nby which we understand what is generic.\n\nA man counts as a free spirit in a human community only to the degree\nin which he has emancipated himself, in the way we have indicated, from\nall that is generic. No man is all genus, none is all individuality;\nbut every man gradually emancipates a greater or lesser sphere of\nhis being, both from the generic characteristics of animal life,\nand from the laws of human authorities which rule him despotically.\n\nIn respect of that part of his nature for which man is not able to\nwin this freedom for himself, he forms a member within the organism\nof nature and of spirit. He lives, in this respect, by the imitation\nof others, or in obedience to their command. But ethical value belongs\nonly to that part of his conduct which springs from his intuitions. And\nwhatever moral instincts man possesses through the inheritance of\nsocial instincts, acquire ethical value through being taken up into\nhis intuitions. In such ethical intuitions all moral activity of men\nhas its root. To put this differently: the moral life of humanity is\nthe sum-total of the products of the moral imagination of free human\nindividuals. This is Monism's confession of faith.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nULTIMATE QUESTIONS\n\n\nXV\n\nTHE CONSEQUENCES OF MONISM\n\n\nAn explanation of Nature on a single principle, or, in other\nwords, Monism, derives from human experience all the material\nwhich it requires for the explanation of the world. In the\nsame way, it looks for the springs of action also within the\nworld of observation, i.e., in that human part of Nature which\nis accessible to our self-observation, and more particularly in\nthe moral imagination. Monism declines to seek outside that world\nthe ultimate grounds of the world which we perceive and think. For\nMonism, the unity which reflective observation adds to the manifold\nmultiplicity of percepts, is identical with the unity which the human\ndesire for knowledge demands, and through which this desire seeks\nentrance into the physical and spiritual realms. Whoever looks for\nanother unity behind this one, only shows that he fails to perceive\nthe coincidence of the results of thinking with the demands of\nthe instinct for knowledge. A particular human individual is not\nsomething cut off from the universe. He is a part of the universe,\nand his connection with the cosmic whole is broken, not in reality,\nbut only for our perception. At first we apprehend the human part\nof the universe as a self-existing thing, because we are unable to\nperceive the cords and ropes by which the fundamental forces of the\ncosmos keep turning the wheel of our life.\n\nAll who remain at this perceptual standpoint see the part of the\nwhole as if it were a truly independent, self-existing thing,\na monad which gains all its knowledge of the rest of the world in\nsome mysterious manner from without. But Monism has shown that we can\nbelieve in this independence only so long as thought does not gather\nour percepts into the network of the conceptual world. As soon as this\nhappens, all partial existence in the universe, all isolated being,\nreveals itself as a mere appearance due to perception. Existence as\na self-contained totality can be predicated only of the universe as a\nwhole. Thought destroys the appearances due to perception and assigns\nto our individual existence a place in the life of the cosmos. The\nunity of the conceptual world which contains all objective percepts,\nhas room also within itself for the content of our subjective\npersonality. Thought gives us the true structure of reality as a\nself-contained unity, whereas the multiplicity of percepts is but\nan appearance conditioned by our organisation (cp. pp. 178 ff.). The\nrecognition of the true unity of reality, as against the appearance\nof multiplicity, is at all times the goal of human thought. Science\nstrives to apprehend our apparently disconnected percepts as a unity by\ntracing their inter-relations according to natural law. But, owing to\nthe prejudice that an inter-relation discovered by human thought has\nonly a subjective validity, thinkers have sought the true ground of\nunity in some object transcending the world of our experience (God,\nwill, absolute spirit, etc.). Further, basing themselves on this\nprejudice, men have tried to gain, in addition to their knowledge\nof inter-relations within experience, a second kind of knowledge\ntranscending experience, which should reveal the connection between\nempirical inter-relations and those realities which lie beyond\nthe limits of experience (Metaphysics). The reason why, by logical\nthinking, we understand the nexus of the world, was thought to be that\nan original creator has built up the world according to logical laws,\nand, similarly, the ground of our actions was thought to lie in the\nwill of this original being. It was overlooked that thinking embraces\nin one grasp the subjective and the objective, and that it communicates\nto us the whole of reality in the union which it effects between\npercept and concept. Only so long as we contemplate the laws which\npervade and determine all percepts, in the abstract form of concepts,\ndo we indeed deal only with something purely subjective. But this\nsubjectivity does not belong to the content of the concept which, by\nmeans of thought, is added to the percept. This content is taken, not\nfrom the subject, but from reality. It is that part of reality which\nis inaccessible to perception. It is experience, but not the kind of\nexperience which comes from perception. Those who cannot understand\nthat the concept is something real, have in mind only the abstract\nform, in which we fix and isolate the concept. But in this isolation,\nthe concept is as much dependent solely on our organisation as is\nthe percept. The tree which I perceive, taken in isolation by itself,\nhas no existence; it exists only as a member in the immense mechanism\nof Nature, and is possible only in real connection with Nature. An\nabstract concept, taken by itself, has as little reality as a percept\ntaken by itself. The percept is that part of reality which is given\nobjectively, the concept that part which is given subjectively (by\nintuition; cp. pp. 90 ff.). Our mental organisation breaks up reality\ninto these two factors. The one factor is apprehended by perception,\nthe other by intuition. Only the union of the two, which consists of\nthe percept fitted according to law into its place in the universe, is\nreality in its full character. If we take mere percepts by themselves,\nwe have no reality but only a disconnected chaos. If we take the laws\nwhich determine percepts by themselves, we have nothing but abstract\nconcepts. Reality is not to be found in the abstract concept. It is\nrevealed to the contemplative act of thought which regards neither\nthe concept by itself nor the percept by itself, but the union of both.\n\nEven the most orthodox Idealist will not deny that we live in the\nreal world (that, as real beings, we are rooted in it); but he will\ndeny that our knowledge, by means of its ideas, is able to grasp\nreality as we live it. As against this view, Monism shows that\nthought is neither subjective nor objective, but a principle which\nholds together both these sides of reality. The contemplative act of\nthought is a cognitive process which belongs itself to the sequence of\nreal events. By thought we overcome, within the limits of experience\nitself, the one-sidedness of mere perception. We are not able by means\nof abstract conceptual hypotheses (purely conceptual speculation)\nto puzzle out the nature of the real, but in so far as we find for\nour percepts the right concepts we live in the real. Monism does not\nseek to supplement experience by something unknowable (transcending\nexperience), but finds reality in concept and percept. It does not\nmanufacture a metaphysical system out of pure concepts, because it\nlooks upon concepts as only one side of reality, viz., the side which\nremains hidden from perception, but is meaningless except in union\nwith percepts. But Monism gives man the conviction that he lives in\nthe world of reality, and has no need to seek beyond the world for a\nhigher reality. It refuses to look for Absolute Reality anywhere but\nin experience, because it recognises reality in the very content of\nexperience. Monism is satisfied with this reality, because it knows\nthat our thought points to no other. What Dualism seeks beyond the\nworld of experience, that Monism finds in this world itself. Monism\nshows that our knowledge grasps reality in its true nature, not in a\npurely subjective image. It holds the conceptual content of the world\nto be identical for all human individuals (cp. pp. 84 ff.). According\nto Monistic principles, every human individual regards every other\nas akin to himself, because it is the same world-content which\nexpresses itself in all. In the single conceptual world there are\nnot as many concepts of \"lion\" as there are individuals who form the\nthought of \"lion,\" but only one. And the concept which A adds to the\npercept of \"lion\" is identical with B's concept except so far as,\nin each case, it is apprehended by a different perceiving subject\n(cp. p. 85). Thought leads all perceiving subjects back to the ideal\nunity in all multiplicity, which is common to them all. There is but\none ideal world, but it realises itself in human subjects as in a\nmultiplicity of individuals. So long as man apprehends himself merely\nby self-observation, he looks upon himself as this particular being,\nbut so soon as he becomes conscious of the ideal world which shines\nforth within him, and which embraces all particulars within itself,\nhe perceives that the Absolute Reality lives within him. Dualism fixes\nupon the Divine Being as that which permeates all men and lives in them\nall. Monism finds this universal Divine Life in Reality itself. The\nideal content of another subject is also my content, and I regard it\nas a different content only so long as I perceive, but no longer when I\nthink. Every man embraces in his thought only a part of the total world\nof ideas, and so far, individuals are distinguished one from another\nalso by the actual contents of their thought. But all these contents\nbelong to a self-contained whole, which comprises within itself the\nthought-contents of all men. Hence every man, in so far as he thinks,\nlays hold of the universal Reality which pervades all men. To fill\none's life with such thought-content is to live in Reality, and at\nthe same time to live in God. The thought of a Beyond owes its origin\nto the misconception of those who believe that this world cannot have\nthe ground of its existence in itself. They do not understand that,\nby thinking, they discover just what they demand for the explanation\nof the perceptual world. This is the reason why no speculation has\never produced any content which has not been borrowed from reality\nas it is given to us. A personal God is nothing but a human being\ntransplanted into the Beyond. Schopenhauer's Will is the human will\nmade absolute. Hartmann's Unconscious, made up of idea and will,\nis but a compound of two abstractions drawn from experience. Exactly\nthe same is true of all other transcendent principles.\n\nThe truth is that the human mind never transcends the reality in which\nit lives. Indeed, it has no need to transcend it, seeing that this\nworld contains everything that is required for its own explanation. If\nphilosophers declare themselves finally content when they have deduced\nthe world from principles which they borrow from experience and then\ntransplant into an hypothetical Beyond, the same satisfaction ought\nto be possible, if these same principles are allowed to remain in this\nworld to which they belong anyhow. All attempts to transcend the world\nare purely illusory, and the principles transplanted into the Beyond do\nnot explain the world any better than the principles which are immanent\nin it. When thought understands itself, it does not demand any such\ntranscendence at all, for there is no thought-content which does not\nfind within the world a perceptual content, in union with which it can\nform a real object. The objects of imagination, too, are contents which\nhave no validity, until they have been transformed into ideas that\nrefer to a perceptual content. Through this perceptual content they\nhave their place in reality. A concept the content of which is supposed\nto lie beyond the world which is given to us, is an abstraction to\nwhich no reality corresponds. Thought can discover only the concepts of\nreality; in order to find reality itself, we need also perception. An\nAbsolute Being for which we invent a content, is a hypothesis which\nno thought can entertain that understands itself. Monism does not\ndeny ideal factors; indeed, it refuses to recognise as fully real\na perceptual content which has no ideal counterpart, but it finds\nnothing within the whole range of thought that is not immanent within\nthis world of ours. A science which restricts itself to a description\nof percepts, without advancing to their ideal complements, is, for\nMonism, but a fragment. But Monism regards as equally fragmentary\nall abstract concepts which do not find their complement in percepts,\nand which fit nowhere into the conceptual net that embraces the whole\nperceptual world. Hence it knows no ideas referring to objects lying\nbeyond our experience and supposed to form the content of purely\nhypothetical Metaphysics. Whatever mankind has produced in the way\nof such ideas Monism regards as abstractions from experience, whose\norigin in experience has been overlooked by their authors.\n\nJust as little, according to Monistic principles, are the ends of our\nactions capable of being derived from the Beyond. So far as we can\nthink them, they must have their origin in human intuition. Man does\nnot adopt the purposes of an objective (transcendent) being as his\nown individual purposes, but he pursues the ends which his own moral\nimagination sets before him. The idea which realises itself in an\naction is selected by the agent from the single ideal world and made\nthe basis of his will. Consequently his action is not a realisation\nof commands which have been thrust into this world from the Beyond,\nbut of human intuitions which belong to this world. For Monism there\nis no ruler of the world standing outside of us and determining the\naim and direction of our actions. There is for man no transcendent\nground of existence, the counsels of which he might discover, in order\nthence to learn the ends to which he ought to direct his action. Man\nmust rest wholly upon himself. He must himself give a content to his\naction. It is in vain that he seeks outside the world in which he lives\nfor motives of his will. If he is to go at all beyond the satisfaction\nof the natural instincts for which Mother Nature has provided, he must\nlook for motives in his own moral imagination, unless he finds it more\nconvenient to let them be determined for him by the moral imagination\nof others. In other words, he must either cease acting altogether,\nor else act from motives which he selects for himself from the world\nof his ideas, or which others select for him from that same world. If\nhe develops at all beyond a life absorbed in sensuous instincts and\nin the execution of the commands of others, then there is nothing\nthat can determine him except himself. He has to act from a motive\nwhich he gives to himself and which nothing else can determine for\nhim except himself. It is true that this motive is ideally determined\nin the single world of ideas; but in actual fact it must be selected\nby the agent from that world and translated into reality. Monism can\nfind the ground for the actual realisation of an idea through human\naction only in the human being himself. That an idea should pass\ninto action must be willed by man before it can happen. Such a will\nconsequently has its ground only in man himself. Man, on this view,\nis the ultimate determinant of his action. He is free.\n\n\n\n\n1. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nIn the second part of this book the attempt has been made to justify\nthe conviction that freedom is to be found in human conduct as it\nreally is. For this purpose it was necessary to sort out, from the\nwhole sphere of human conduct, those actions with respect to which\nunprejudiced self-observation may appropriately speak of freedom. These\nare the actions which appear as realisations of ideal intuitions. No\nother actions will be called free by an unprejudiced observer. However,\nopen-minded self-observation compels man to regard himself as endowed\nwith the capacity for progress on the road towards ethical intuitions\nand their realisation. Yet this open-minded observation of the ethical\nnature of man is, by itself, insufficient to constitute the final court\nof appeal for the question of freedom. For, suppose intuitive thinking\nhad itself sprung from some other essence; suppose its essence were\nnot grounded in itself, then the consciousness of freedom, which issues\nfrom moral conduct, would prove to be a mere illusion. But the second\npart of this book finds its natural support in the first part, which\npresents intuitive thinking as an inward spiritual activity which man\nexperiences as such. To appreciate through experience this essence\nof thinking is equivalent to recognising the freedom of intuitive\nthinking. And once we know that this thinking is free, we know also\nthe sphere within which will may be called free. We shall regard man\nas a free agent, if on the basis of inner experience we may attribute\nto the life of intuitive thinking a self-sustaining essence. Whoever\ncannot do this will be unable to discover any wholly unassailable\nroad to the belief in freedom. The experience to which we here refer\nreveals in consciousness intuitive thinking, the reality of which\ndoes not depend merely on our being conscious of it. Freedom, too,\nis thereby revealed as the characteristic of all actions which issue\nfrom the intuitions of consciousness.\n\n\n\n\n2. ADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION (1918).\n\nThe argumentation of this book is built up on the fact of intuitive\nthinking, which may be experienced in a purely spiritual way, and which\nevery perception inserts into reality so that reality comes thereby to\nbe known. All that this book aimed at presenting was the result of a\nsurvey from the basis of our experience of intuitive thinking. However,\nthe intention also was to emphasise the systematic interpretation which\nthis thinking, as experienced by us, demands. It demands that we shall\nnot deny its presence in cognition as a self-sustaining experience. It\ndemands that we acknowledge its capacity for experiencing reality in\nco-operation with perception, and that we do not make it seek reality\nin a world outside experience and accessible only to inference, in\nthe face of which human thinking would be only a subjective activity.\n\nThis view characterises thinking as that factor in man through which\nhe inserts himself spiritually into reality. (And, strictly, no one\nshould confuse this kind of world-view, which is based on thinking as\ndirectly experienced, with mere Rationalism.) But, on the other hand,\nthe whole tenor of the preceding argumentation shows that perception\nyields a determination of reality for human knowledge only when it\nis taken hold of in thinking. Outside of thinking there is nothing to\ncharacterise reality for what it is. Hence we have no right to imagine\nthat sense-perception is the only witness to reality. Whatever comes\nto us by way of perception on our journey through life, we cannot\nbut expect. The only point open to question would be whether, from\nthe exclusive point of view of thinking as we intuitively experience\nit, we have a right to expect that over and above sensuous perception\nthere is also spiritual perception. This expectation is justified. For,\nthough intuitive thinking is, on the one hand, an active process taking\nplace in the human mind, it is, on the other hand, also a spiritual\nperception mediated by no sense-organ. It is a perception in which the\npercipient is himself active, and a self-activity which is at the same\ntime perceived. In intuitive thinking man enters a spiritual world\nalso as a percipient. Whatever within this world presents itself to\nhim as percept in the same way in which the spiritual world of his own\nthinking so presents itself, that is recognised by him as constituting\na world of spiritual perception. This world of spiritual perception we\nmay suppose to be standing in the same relation to thinking as does,\non the sensuous side, the world of sense-perception. Man does not\nexperience the world of spiritual perception as an alien something,\nbecause he is already familiar in his intuitive thinking with an\nexperience of purely spiritual character. With such a world of\nspiritual perception a number of the writings are concerned which\nI have published since this present book appeared. The Philosophy\nof Spiritual Activity lays the philosophical foundation for these\nlater writings. For it attempts to show that in the very experience\nof thinking, rightly understood, we experience Spirit. This is the\nreason why it appears to the author that no one will stop short of\nentering the world of spiritual perception who has been able to adopt,\nin all seriousness, the point of view of the Philosophy of Spiritual\nActivity. True, logical deduction--by syllogisms--will not extract\nout of the contents of this book the contents of the author's later\nbooks. But a living understanding of what is meant in this book by\n\"intuitive thinking\" will naturally prepare the way for living entry\ninto the world of spiritual perception.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTRUTH AND SCIENCE [15]\n\n\nI\n\nPRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS\n\n\nTheory of Knowledge aims at being a scientific investigation of\nthe very fact which all other sciences take for granted without\nexamination, viz., knowing or knowledge-getting itself. To say this\nis to attribute to it, from the very start, the character of being the\nfundamental philosophical discipline. For, it is only this discipline\nwhich can tell us what value and significance belong to the insight\ngained by the other sciences. In this respect it is the foundation for\nall scientific endeavour. But, it is clear that the Theory of Knowledge\ncan fulfil its task only if it works without any presuppositions of\nits own, so far as that is possible in view of the nature of human\nknowledge. This is probably conceded on all sides. And yet, a more\ndetailed examination of the better-known epistemological systems\nreveals that, at the very starting-point of the inquiry, there is\nmade a whole series of assumptions which detract considerably from\nthe plausibility of the rest of the argument. In particular, it is\nnoticeable how frequently certain hidden assumptions are made in the\nvery formulation of the fundamental problems of epistemology. But,\nif a science begins by misstating its problems, we must despair\nfrom the start of finding the right solution. The history of the\nsciences teaches us that countless errors, from which whole epochs have\nsuffered, are to be traced wholly and solely to the fact that certain\nproblems were wrongly formulated. For illustrations there is no need\nto go back to Aristotle or to the Ars Magna Lulliana. There are plenty\nof examples in more recent times. The numerous questions concerning\nthe purposes of the rudimentary organs of certain organisms could\nbe correctly formulated only after the discovery of the fundamental\nlaw of biogenesis had created the necessary conditions. As long as\nBiology was under the influence of teleological concepts, it was\nimpossible to put these problems in a form permitting a satisfactory\nanswer. What fantastic ideas, for example, were current concerning the\npurpose of the so-called pineal gland, so long as it was fashionable\nto frame biological questions in terms of \"purpose.\" An answer was\nnot achieved until the solution of the problem was sought by the\nmethod of Comparative Anatomy, and scientists asked whether this\norgan might not be merely a residual survival in man from a lower\nevolutionary level. Or, to mention yet another example, consider the\nmodifications in certain physical problems after the discovery of the\nlaws of the mechanical equivalents of heat and of the conservation\nof energy! In short, the success of scientific investigations depends\nessentially upon the investigator's ability to formulate his problems\ncorrectly. Even though the Theory of Knowledge, as the presupposition\nof all other sciences, occupies a position very different from\ntheirs, we may yet expect that for it, too, successful progress in\nits investigations will become possible only when the fundamental\nquestions have been put in the correct form.\n\nThe following discussions aim, in the first place, at such a\nformulation of the problem of knowledge as will do justice to the\ncharacter of the Theory of Knowledge as a discipline which is without\nany presuppositions whatever. Their secondary aim is to throw light on\nthe relation of J. G. Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre to such a fundamental\nphilosophical discipline. The reason why precisely Fichte's attempt\nto provide an absolutely certain basis for the sciences will be\nbrought into closer relation with our own philosophical programme,\nwill become clear of itself in the course of our investigation.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE FUNDAMENTAL PROBLEM OF KANT'S THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE\n\n\nIt is usual to designate Kant as the founder of the Theory of\nKnowledge in the modern sense. Against this view it might plausibly\nbe argued that the history of philosophy records prior to Kant\nnumerous investigations which deserve to be regarded as something\nmore than mere beginnings of such a science. Thus Volkelt, in his\nfundamental work on the Theory of Knowledge, [16] remarks that the\ncritical treatment of this discipline took its origin already with\nLocke. But in the writings of even older philosophers, yes, even in\nthe philosophy of Ancient Greece, discussions are to be found which\nat the present day are usually undertaken under the heading of Theory\nof Knowledge. However, Kant has revolutionised all problems under this\nhead from their very depths up, and, following him, numerous thinkers\nhave worked them through so thoroughly that all the older attempts at\nsolutions may be found over again either in Kant himself or else in\nhis successors. Hence, for the purposes of a purely systematic, as\ndistinct from a historical, study of the Theory of Knowledge, there\nis not much danger of omitting any important phenomenon by taking\naccount only of the period since Kant burst upon the world with his\nCritique of Pure Reason. All previous epistemological achievements\nare recapitulated during this period.\n\nThe fundamental question of Kant's Theory of Knowledge is, How are\nsynthetic judgments a priori possible? Let us consider this question\nfor a moment in respect of its freedom from presuppositions. Kant\nasks the question precisely because he believes that we can attain\nunconditionally certain knowledge only if we are able to prove\nthe validity of synthetic judgments a priori. He says: \"Should this\nquestion be answered in a satisfactory way, we shall at the same time\nlearn what part reason plays in the foundation and completion of those\nsciences which contain a theoretical a priori knowledge of objects;\"\n[17] and, further, \"Metaphysics stands and falls with the solution of\nthis problem, on which, therefore, the very existence of Metaphysics\nabsolutely depends.\" [18]\n\nAre there any presuppositions in this question, as formulated by\nKant? Yes, there are. For the possibility of a system of absolutely\ncertain knowledge is made dependent on its being built up exclusively\nout of judgments which are synthetic and acquired independently of\nall experience. \"Synthetic\" is Kant's term for judgments in which\nthe concept of the predicate adds to the concept of the subject\nsomething which lies wholly outside the subject, \"although it stands\nin some connection with the subject,\" [19] whereas in \"analytic\"\njudgments the predicate affirms only what is already (implicitly)\ncontained in the subject. This is not the place for considering the\nacute objections which Johannes Rehmke [20] brings forward against\nthis classification of judgments. For our present purpose, it is\nenough to understand that we can attain to genuine knowledge only\nthrough judgments which add to one concept another the content of\nwhich was not, for us at least, contained in that of the former. If\nwe choose to call this class of judgments, with Kant, \"synthetic,\" we\nmay agree that knowledge in judgment form is obtainable only where the\nconnection of predicate and subject is of this synthetic sort. But,\nthe case is very different with the second half of Kant's question,\nwhich demands that these judgments are to be formed a priori, i.e.,\nindependently of all experience. For one thing, it is altogether\npossible [21] that such judgments do not occur at all. At the start\nof the Theory of Knowledge we must hold entirely open the question,\nwhether we arrive at any judgments otherwise than by experience, or\nonly by experience. Indeed, to unprejudiced reflection the alleged\nindependence of experience seems from the first to be impossible. For,\nlet the object of our knowledge be what it may--it must, surely, always\npresent itself to us at some time in an immediate and unique way; in\nshort, it must become for us an experience. Mathematical judgments,\ntoo, are known by us in no other way than by our experiencing them\nin particular concrete cases. Even if, with Otto Liebmann, [22] for\nexample, we treat them as founded upon a certain organisation of our\nconsciousness, this empirical character is none the less manifest. We\nshall then say that this or that proposition is necessarily valid,\nbecause the denial of its truth would imply the denial of our\nconsciousness, but the content of a proposition can enter our knowledge\nonly by its becoming an experience for us in exactly the same way in\nwhich a process in the outer world of nature does so. Let the content\nof such a proposition include factors which guarantee its absolute\nvalidity, or let its validity be based on other grounds--in either\ncase, I can possess myself of it only in one way and in no other:\nit must be presented to me in experience. This is the first objection\nto Kant's view.\n\nThe other objection lies in this, that we have no right, at the outset\nof our epistemological investigations, to affirm that no absolutely\ncertain knowledge can have its source in experience. Without doubt,\nit is easily conceivable that experience itself might contain a\ncriterion guaranteeing the certainty of all knowledge which has an\nempirical source.\n\nThus, Kant's formulation of the problem implies two\npresuppositions. The first is that we need, over and above experience,\nanother source of cognitions. The second is that all knowledge from\nexperience has only conditional validity. Kant entirely fails to\nrealise that these two propositions are open to doubt, that they stand\nin need of critical examination. He takes them over as unquestioned\nassumptions from the dogmatic philosophy of his predecessors and makes\nthem the basis of his own critical inquiries. The dogmatic thinkers\nassume the validity of these two propositions and simply apply them in\norder to get from each the kind of knowledge which it guarantees. Kant\nassumed their validity and only asks, What are the conditions of\ntheir validity? But, what if they are not valid at all? In that case,\nthe edifice of Kantian doctrine lacks all foundation whatever.\n\nThe whole argumentation of the five sections which precede Kant's\nformulation of the problem, amounts to an attempt to prove that the\npropositions of Mathematics are synthetic. [23] But, precisely the\ntwo presuppositions which we have pointed out are retained as mere\nassumptions in his discussions. In the Introduction to the Second\nEdition of the Critique of Pure Reason we read, \"experience can tell us\nthat a thing is so and so, but not that it cannot be otherwise,\" and,\n\"experience never bestows on its judgments true or strict universality,\nbut only the assumed and relative universality of induction.\" [24]\nIn Prologomena, [25] we find it said, \"First, as regards the sources\nof metaphysics, the very concept of Metaphysics implies that they\ncannot be empirical. The principles of Metaphysics (where the term\n'principles' includes, not merely its fundamental propositions, but\nalso its fundamental concepts), can never be gained from experience,\nfor the knowledge of the metaphysician has precisely to be, not\nphysical, but 'metaphysical,' i.e., lying beyond the reach of\nexperience.\" Lastly Kant says in the Critique of Pure Reason: \"The\nfirst thing to notice is, that no truly mathematical judgments are\nempirical, but always a priori. They carry necessity on their very\nface, and therefore cannot be derived from experience. Should anyone\ndemur to this, I am willing to limit my assertion to the propositions\nof Pure Mathematics, which, as everybody will admit, are not empirical\njudgments, but perfectly pure a priori knowledge.\" [26]\n\nWe may open the Critique of Pure Reason wherever we please, we shall\nalways find that in all its discussions these two dogmatic propositions\nare taken for granted. Cohen [27] and Stadler [28] attempt to prove\nthat Kant has established the a priori character of the propositions\nof Mathematics and Pure Natural Science. But all that Kant tries to do\nin the Critique may be summed up as follows. The fact that Mathematics\nand Pure Natural Science are a priori sciences implies that the \"form\"\nof all experience has its ground in the subject. Hence, all that is\ngiven by experience is the \"matter\" of sensations. This matter is\nsynthesised by the forms, inherent in the mind, into the system of\nempirical science. It is only as principles of order for the matter\nof sense that the formal principles of the a priori theories have\nfunction and significance. They make empirical science possible, but\nthey cannot transcend it. These formal principles are nothing but the\nsynthetic judgments a priori, which therefore extend, as conditions\nof all possible empirical knowledge, as far as that knowledge but no\nfurther. Thus, the Critique of Pure Reason, so far from proving the\na priori character of Mathematics and Pure Natural Science, does but\ndelimit the sphere of their applicability on the assumption that their\nprinciples must become known independently of experience. Indeed,\nKant is so far from attempting a proof of the a priori character of\nthese principles, that he simply excludes that part of Mathematics\n(see the quotation above) in which, even according to his view, that\ncharacter might be called in question, and confines himself to the part\nin which he thinks he can infer the a priori character from the bare\nconcepts involved. Johannes Volkelt, too, comes to the conclusion that\n\"Kant starts from the explicit presupposition\" that \"there actually\ndoes exist knowledge which is universal and necessary.\" He goes\non to remark, \"This presupposition which Kant has never explicitly\nquestioned, is so profoundly contradictory to the character of a truly\ncritical Theory of Knowledge, that the question must be seriously put\nwhether the Critique is to be accepted as critical Theory of Knowledge\nat all.\" Volkelt does, indeed, decide that there are good grounds for\nanswering this question in the affirmative, but still, as he says,\n\"this dogmatic assumption does disturb the critical attitude of\nKant's epistemology in the most far-reaching way.\" [29] In short,\nVolkelt, too, finds that the Critique of Pure Reason is not a Theory\nof Knowledge free from all assumptions.\n\nIn substantial agreement with our view are also the views of\nO. Liebmann, [30] Holder, [31] Windelband, [32] Ueberweg, [33] Eduard\nvon Hartmann, [34] and Kuno Fischer, [35] all of whom acknowledge\nthat Kant makes the a priori character of Pure Mathematics and Physics\nthe basis of his whole argumentation.\n\nThe propositions that we really have knowledge which is independent\nof all experience, and that experience can furnish knowledge of\nonly relative universality, could be accepted by us as valid only\nif they were conclusions deduced from other propositions. It would\nbe absolutely necessary for these propositions to be preceded by an\ninquiry into the essential nature of experience, as well as by another\ninquiry into the essential nature of knowing. The former might justify\nthe first, the latter the second, of the above two propositions.\n\nIt would be possible to reply to the objections which we have urged\nagainst the Critique of Pure Reason, as follows. It might be said\nthat every Theory of Knowledge must first lead the reader to the\nplace where the starting-point, free from all presuppositions, is to\nbe found. For, the knowledge which we have at any given moment of our\nlives is far removed from this starting-point, so that we must first\nbe artificially led back to it. Now, it is true that some such mutual\nunderstanding between author and reader concerning the starting-point\nof the science is necessary in all Theory of Knowledge. But such an\nunderstanding ought on no account to go beyond showing how far the\nalleged starting-point of knowing is truly such. It ought to consist of\npurely self-evident, analytic propositions. It ought not to lay down\nany positive, substantial affirmations which influence, as in Kant,\nthe content of the subsequent argumentation. Moreover, it is the duty\nof the epistemologist to show that the starting-point which he alleges\nis really free from all presuppositions. But all this has nothing to\ndo with the essential nature of that starting-point. It lies wholly\noutside the starting-point and makes no affirmations about it. At the\nbeginning of mathematical instruction, too, the teacher must exert\nhimself to convince the pupil of the axiomatic character of certain\nprinciples. But no one will maintain that the content of the axioms is\nin any way made dependent on these prior discussions of their axiomatic\ncharacter. [36] In exactly the same way, the epistemologist, in his\nintroductory remarks, ought to show the method by which we can reach\na starting-point free from all presuppositions. But the real content\nof the starting-point ought to be independent of the reflections by\nwhich it is discovered. There is, most certainly, a wide difference\nbetween such an introduction to the Theory of Knowledge and Kant's way\nof beginning with affirmations of quite definite, dogmatic character.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nTHEORY OF KNOWLEDGE SINCE KANT\n\n\nKant's mistaken formulation of the problem has had a greater or lesser\ninfluence on all subsequent students of the Theory of Knowledge. For\nKant, the view that all objects which are given to us in experience\nare ideas in our minds is a consequence of his theory of the a\npriori. For nearly all his successors, it has become the first\nprinciple and starting-point of their epistemological systems. It is\nsaid that the first and most immediate truth is, simply and solely,\nthe proposition that we know our own ideas. This has come to be\na well-nigh universal conviction among philosophers. G. E. Schulze\nmaintains in his \u00c6nesidemus, as early as 1792, that all our cognitions\nare mere ideas and that we can never transcend our ideas. Schopenhauer\nputs forward, with all the philosophical pathos which distinguishes\nhim, the view that the permanent achievement of Kant's philosophy\nis the thesis that \"the world is my idea.\" To Eduard von Hartmann\nthis thesis is so incontestable, that he addresses his treatise,\nKritische Grundlegung des Transcendentalen Realismus, exclusively\nto readers who have achieved critical emancipation from the na\u00efve\nidentification of the world of perception with the thing-in-itself. He\ndemands of them that they shall have made clear to themselves the\nabsolute heterogeneity of the object of perception which through the\nact of representation has been given as a subjective and ideal content\nof consciousness, and of the thing-in-itself which is independent of\nthe act of representation and of the form of consciousness and which\nexists in its own right. His readers are required to be thoroughly\nconvinced that the whole of what is immediately given to us consists\nof ideas. [37] In his latest work on Theory of Knowledge, Hartmann\ndoes, indeed, attempt to give reasons for this view. What value should\nbe attached to these reasons by an unprejudiced Theory of Knowledge\nwill appear in the further course of our discussions. Otto Liebmann\nposits as the sacrosanct first principle of the Theory of Knowledge\nthe proposition, \"Consciousness cannot transcend itself.\" [38] Volkelt\nhas called the proposition that the first and most immediate truth is\nthe limitation of all our knowledge, in the first instance, to our own\nideas exclusively, the positivistic principle of knowledge. He regards\nonly those theories of knowledge as \"in the fullest sense critical\"\nwhich \"place this principle, as the only fixed starting-point of\nphilosophy, at the head of their discussions and then consistently\nthink out its consequences.\" [39] Other philosophers place other\npropositions at the head of the Theory of Knowledge, e.g., the\nproposition that its real problem concerns the relation between\nThought and Being, and the possibility of a mediation between them;\n[40] or that it concerns the way in which Being becomes an object\nof Consciousness; [41] and many others. Kirchmann starts from two\nepistemological axioms, \"Whatever is perceived is,\" and, \"Whatever\nis self-contradictory, is not.\" [42] According to E. L. Fischer,\nknowledge is the science of something actual, something real, [43]\nand he criticises this dogma as little as does Goering who asserts\nsimilarly, \"To know means always to know something which is. This is a\nfact which cannot be denied either by scepticism or by Kant's critical\nphilosophy.\" [44] These two latter thinkers simply lay down the law:\nThis is what knowledge is. They do not trouble to ask themselves with\nwhat right they do it.\n\nBut, even if these various propositions were correct, or led to correct\nformulations of the problem, it would still be impossible to discuss\nthem at the outset of the Theory of Knowledge. For, they all belong, as\npositive and definite cognitions, within the realm of knowledge. To say\nthat my knowledge extends, in the first instance, only to my ideas,\nis to express in a perfectly definite judgment something which I\nknow. In this judgment I qualify the world which is given to me by\nthe predicate \"existing in the form of idea.\" But how am I to know,\nprior to all knowledge, that the objects given to me are ideas?\n\nThe best way to convince ourselves of the truth of the assertion\nthat this proposition has no right to be put at the head of the\nTheory of Knowledge, is to retrace the way which the human mind must\nfollow in order to reach this proposition, which has become almost\nan integral part of the whole modern scientific consciousness. The\nconsiderations which have led to it are systematically summarised,\nwith approximate exhaustiveness, in Part I of Eduard von Hartmann's\ntreatise, Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie. His statement, there,\nmay serve as a sort of guiding-thread for us in our task of reviewing\nthe reasons which may lead to the acceptance of this proposition.\n\nThese reasons are physical, psycho-physical, physiological, and\nproperly philosophical.\n\nThe Physicist is led by observation of the phenomena which occur\nin our environment when, e.g., we experience a sensation of sound,\nto the view that there is nothing in these phenomena which in the\nvery least resembles what we perceive immediately as sound. Outside,\nin the space which surrounds us, nothing is to be found except\nlongitudinal oscillations of bodies and of the air. Thence it is\ninferred that what in ordinary life we call \"sound\" or \"tone\" is\nnothing but the subjective reaction of our organism to these wave-like\noscillations. Similarly, it is inferred that light and colour and\nheat are purely subjective. The phenomena of colour-dispersion, of\nrefraction, of interference, of polarisation, teach us that to the\njust-mentioned sensations there correspond in the outer space certain\ntransverse oscillations which we feel compelled to ascribe, in part\nto the bodies, in part to an immeasurably fine, elastic fluid, the\n\"ether.\" Further, the Physicist is driven by certain phenomena in the\nworld of bodies to abandon the belief in the continuity of objects in\nspace, and to analyse them into systems of exceedingly minute particles\n(molecules, atoms), the size of which, relatively to the distances\nbetween them, is immeasurably small. Thence it is inferred that all\naction of bodies on each other is across the empty intervening space,\nand is thus a genuine actio in distans. The Physicist believes himself\njustified in holding that the action of bodies on our senses of touch\nand temperature does not take place through direct contact, because\nthere must always remain a definite, if small, distance between the\nbody and the spot on the skin which it is said to \"touch.\" Thence it\nis said to follow that what we sense as hardness or heat in bodies\nis nothing but the reactions of the end-organs of our touch- and\ntemperature-nerves to the molecular forces of bodies which act upon\nthem across empty space.\n\nThese considerations from the sphere of Physics are supplemented\nby the Psycho-physicists with their doctrine of specific\nsense-energies. J. M\u00fcller has shown that every sense can be affected\nonly in its own characteristic way as determined by its organisation,\nand that its reaction is always of the same kind whatever may be the\nexternal stimulus. If the optical nerve is stimulated, light-sensations\nare experienced by us regardless of whether the stimulus was pressure,\nor an electric current, or light. On the other hand, the same external\nphenomena produce quite different sensations according as they are\nperceived by different senses. From these facts the inference has\nbeen drawn that there occurs only one sort of phenomenon in the\nexternal world, viz., motions, and that the variety of qualities of\nthe world we perceive is essentially a reaction of our senses to these\nmotions. According to this view, we do not perceive the external world\nas such, but only the subjective sensations which it evokes in us.\n\nPhysiology adds its quota to the physical arguments. Physics deals\nwith the phenomena which occur outside our organisms and which\ncorrespond to our percepts. Physiology seeks to investigate the\nprocesses which go on in man's own body when a certain sensation is\nevoked in him. It teaches us that the epidermis is wholly insensitive\nto the stimuli in the external world. Thus, e.g., if external stimuli\nare to affect the end-organs of our touch-nerves on the surface of\nour bodies, the oscillations which occur outside our bodies have to\nbe transmitted through the epidermis. In the case of the senses of\nhearing and of sight, the external motions have, in addition, to be\nmodified by a number of structures in the sense-organs, before they\nreach the nerves. The nerves have to conduct the effects produced in\nthe end-organs up to the central organ, and only then can take place\nthe process by means of which purely mechanical changes in the brain\nproduce sensations. It is clear that the stimulus which acts upon\nthe sense-organs is so completely changed by the transformations\nwhich it undergoes, that every trace of resemblance between the\ninitial impression on the sense-organs and the final sensation in\nconsciousness must be obliterated. Hartmann sums up the outcome of\nthese considerations in these words: \"This content of consciousness\nconsists, originally, of sensations which are the reflex responses\nof the soul to the molecular motions in the highest cortical centres,\nbut which have not the faintest resemblance to the molecular motions\nby which they are elicited.\"\n\nIf we think this line of argument through to the end, we must agree\nthat, assuming it to be correct, there survives in the content\nof our consciousness not the least element of what may be called\n\"external existence.\"\n\nTo the physical and physiological objections against so-called \"Na\u00efve\nRealism\" Hartmann adds some further objections which he describes\nas philosophical in the strict sense. A logical examination of the\nphysical and physiological objections reveals that, after all,\nthe desired conclusion can be reached only if we start from the\nexistence and nexus of external objects, just as these are assumed by\nthe ordinary na\u00efve consciousness, and then inquire how this external\nworld can enter the consciousness of beings with organisms such as\nours. We have seen that every trace of such an external world is lost\non the way from the impression on the sense-organ to the appearance\nof the sensation in our consciousness, and that in the latter nothing\nsurvives except our ideas. Hence, we have to assume that the picture\nof the external world which we actually have, has been built up by\nthe soul on the basis of the sensations given to it. First, the soul\nconstructs out of the data of the senses of touch and sight a picture\nof the world in space, and then the sensations of the other senses\nare fitted into this space-system. When we are compelled to think of\na certain complex of sensations as belonging together, we are led\nto the concept of substance and regard substance as the bearer of\nsense-qualities. When we observe that some sense-qualities disappear\nfrom a substance and that others appear in their place, we ascribe\nthis event in the world of phenomena to a change regulated by the law\nof causality. Thus, according to this view, our whole world-picture\nis composed of subjective sensations which are ordered by the activity\nof our own souls. Hartmann says, \"What the subject perceives is always\nonly modifications of its own psychic states and nothing else.\" [45]\n\nNow let us ask ourselves, How do we come by such a view? The\nbare skeleton of the line of thought which leads to it is as\nfollows. Supposing an external world exists, we do not perceive\nit as such but transform it through our organisation into a world\nof ideas. This is a supposition which, when consistently thought\nout, destroys itself. But is this reflection capable of supporting\nany positive alternative? Are we justified in regarding the world,\nwhich is given to us, as the subjective content of ideas because the\nassumptions of the na\u00efve consciousness, logically followed out, lead to\nthis conclusion? Our purpose is, rather, to exhibit these assumptions\nthemselves as untenable. Yet, so far we should have found only that\nit is possible for a premise to be false and yet for the conclusion\ndrawn from it to be true. Granted that this may happen, yet we can\nnever regard the conclusion as proved by means of that premise.\n\nIt is usual to apply the title of \"Na\u00efve Realism\" to the theory\nwhich accepts as self-evident and indubitable the reality of the\nworld-picture which is immediately given to us. The opposite theory,\nwhich regards this world as merely the content of our consciousness, is\ncalled \"Transcendental Idealism.\" Hence, we may sum up the outcome of\nthe above discussion by saying, \"Transcendental Idealism demonstrates\nits own truth, by employing the premises of the Na\u00efve Realism which it\nseeks to refute.\" Transcendental Idealism is true, if Na\u00efve Realism is\nfalse. But the falsity of the latter is shown only by assuming it to be\ntrue. Once we clearly realise this situation, we have no choice but to\nabandon this line of argument and to try another. But are we to trust\nto good luck, and experiment about until we hit by accident upon the\nright line? This is Eduard von Hartmann's view when he believes himself\nto have shown the validity of his own epistemological standpoint, on\nthe ground that his theory explains the phenomena whereas its rivals\ndo not. According to his view, the several philosophical systems are\nengaged in a sort of struggle for existence in which the fittest is\nultimately accepted as victor. But this method appears to us to be\nunsuitable, if only for the reason that there may well be several\nhypotheses which explain the phenomena equally satisfactorily. Hence,\nwe had better keep to the above line of thought for the refutation\nof Na\u00efve Realism, and see where precisely its deficiency lies. For,\nafter all, Na\u00efve Realism is the view from which we all start out. For\nthis reason alone it is advisable to begin by setting it right. When\nwe have once understood why it must be defective, we shall be led\nupon the right path with far greater certainty than if we proceed\nsimply at haphazard.\n\nThe subjectivism which we have sketched above is the result of the\nelaboration of certain facts by thought. Thus, it takes for granted\nthat, from given facts as starting-point, we can by consistent\nthinking, i.e., by logical combination of certain observations, gain\ncorrect conclusions. But our right thus to employ our thinking remains\nunexamined. There, precisely, lies the weakness of this method. Whereas\nNa\u00efve Realism starts from the unexamined assumption that the contents\nof our perceptual experience have objective reality, the Idealism\njust described starts from the no less unexamined conviction that by\nthe use of thought we can reach conclusions which are scientifically\nvalid. In contrast to Na\u00efve Realism, we may call this point of view\n\"Na\u00efve Rationalism.\" In order to justify this term, it may be well to\ninsert here a brief comment on the concept of the \"Na\u00efve.\" A. D\u00f6ring,\nin his essay \u00dcber den Begriff des Naiven Realismus, [46] attempts a\nmore precise determination of this concept. He says, \"The concept\nof the Na\u00efve marks as it were the zero-point on the scale of our\nreflection upon our own activity. In content the Na\u00efve may well\ncoincide with the True, for, although the Na\u00efve is unreflecting and,\ntherefore, uncritical or a-critical, yet this lack of reflection and\ncriticism excludes only the objective assurance of truth. It implies\nthe possibility and the danger of error, but it does not imply the\nnecessity of error. There are na\u00efve modes of feeling and willing as\nthere are na\u00efve modes of apprehending and thinking, in the widest sense\nof the latter term. Further, there are na\u00efve modes of expressing these\ninward states in contrast with their repression or modification through\nconsideration for others and through reflection. Na\u00efve activity is\nnot influenced, at least not consciously, by tradition, education, or\nimposed rule. It is in all spheres (as its root nativus, brings out),\nunconscious, impulsive, instinctive, d\u00e6monic activity.\" Starting from\nthis account, we will try to determine the concept of the Na\u00efve still\nmore precisely. In every activity we may consider two aspects--the\nactivity itself and our consciousness of its conformity to a law. We\nmay be wholly absorbed in the former, without caring at all for\nthe latter. The artist is in this position, who does not know in\nreflective form the laws of his creative activity but yet practises\nthese laws by feeling and sense. We call him \"na\u00efve.\" But there is\na kind of self-observation which inquires into the laws of one's\nown activity and which replaces the na\u00efve attitude, just described,\nby the consciousness of knowing exactly the scope and justification\nof all one does. This we will call \"critical.\" This account seems to\nus best to hit off the meaning of this concept which, more or less\nclearly understood, has since Kant acquired citizen-rights in the\nworld of philosophy. Critical reflection is, thus, the opposite of\nna\u00efve consciousness. We call an attitude \"critical\" which makes itself\nmaster of the laws of its own activity in order to know how far it\ncan rely on them and what are their limits. Theory of Knowledge can\nbe nothing if not a critical science. Its object is precisely the most\nsubjective activity of man--knowing. What it aims at exhibiting is the\nlaws to which knowing conforms. Hence, the na\u00efve attitude is wholly\nexcluded from this science. Its claim to strength lies precisely\nin that it achieves what many minds, interested in practice rather\nthan in theory, pride themselves on never having attempted, viz.,\n\"thinking about thought.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE STARTING-POINTS OF THE THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE\n\n\nAt the beginning of an epistemological inquiry we must, in accordance\nwith the conclusions we have reached, put aside everything which we\nhave come to know. For, knowledge is something which man has produced,\nsomething which he has originated by his activity. If the Theory of\nKnowledge is really to extend the light of its explanation over the\nwhole field of what we know, it must set out from a point which has\nremained wholly untouched by cognitive activity--indeed which rather\nfurnishes the first impulse for this activity. The point at which\nwe must start lies outside of what we know. It cannot as yet itself\nbe an item of knowledge. But we must look for it immediately prior\nto the act of cognition, so that the very next step which man takes\nshall be a cognitive act. The method for determining this absolutely\nfirst starting-point must be such that nothing enters into it which\nis already the result of cognitive activity.\n\nThere is nothing but the immediately-given world-picture with which\nwe can make a start of this sort. This means the picture of the world\nwhich is presented to man before he has in any way transformed it by\ncognitive activity, i.e., before he has made the very least judgment\nabout it or submitted it to the very smallest determination by\nthinking. What thus passes initially through our minds and what\nour minds pass through--this incoherent picture which is not yet\ndifferentiated into particular elements, in which nothing seems\ndistinguished from, nothing related to, nothing determined by, anything\nelse, this is the Immediately-Given. On this level of existence--if the\nphrase is permissible--no object, no event, is as yet more important or\nmore significant than any other. The rudimentary organ of an animal,\nwhich, in the light of the knowledge belonging to a higher level of\nexistence, is perhaps seen to be without any importance whatever for\nthe development and life of the animal, comes before us with the same\nclaim to our attention as the noblest and most necessary part of the\norganism. Prior to all cognitive activity nothing in our picture of\nthe world appears as substance, nothing as quality, nothing as cause\nor as effect. The contrasts of matter and spirit, of body and soul,\nhave not yet arisen. Every other predicate, too, must be kept away\nfrom the world-picture presented at this level. We may think of it\nneither as reality nor as appearance, neither as subjective nor as\nobjective, neither as necessary nor as contingent. We cannot decide\nat this stage whether it is \"thing-in-itself\" or mere \"idea.\" For, we\nhave seen already that the conclusions of Physics and Physiology, which\nlead us to subsume the Given under one or other of the above heads,\nmust not be made the basis on which to build the Theory of Knowledge.\n\nSuppose a being with fully-developed human intelligence were to\nbe suddenly created out of Nothing and confronted with the world,\nthe first impression made by the world on his senses and his thought\nwould be pretty much what we have here called the immediately-given\nworld-picture. Of course, no actual man at any moment of his life has\nnothing but this original world-picture before him. In his mental\ndevelopment there is nowhere a sharp line between pure, passive\nreception of the Given from without and the cognitive apprehension of\nit by Thought. This fact might suggest critical doubts concerning\nour method of determining the starting-point of the Theory of\nKnowledge. Thus, e.g., Eduard von Hartmann remarks: \"We do not ask\nwhat is the content of consciousness of a child just awakening to\nconscious life, nor of an animal on the lowest rung of the ladder of\norganisms. For, of these things philosophising man has no experience,\nand, if he tries to reconstruct the content of consciousness of beings\non primitive biogenetic or ontogenetic levels, he cannot but base his\nconclusions on his own personal experience. Hence, our first task is to\ndetermine what is the content of consciousness which philosophising man\ndiscovers in himself when he begins his philosophical reflection.\" [47]\nBut, the objection to this view is that the picture of the world\nwith which we begin philosophical reflection, is already qualified by\npredicates which are the results solely of knowledge. We have no right\nto accept these predicates without question. On the contrary, we must\ncarefully extract them from out of the world-picture, in order that\nit may appear in its purity without any admixture due to the process\nof cognition. In general, the dividing line between what is given\nand what is added by cognition cannot be identified with any single\nmoment of human development, but must be drawn artificially. But this\ncan be done at every level of development, provided only we divide\ncorrectly what is presented to us prior to cognition, without any\ndetermination by thinking, from what is made of it by cognition.\n\nNow, it may be objected that we have already piled up a whole\nhost of thought-determinations in the very process of extracting\nthe alleged primitive world-picture out of the complete picture\ninto which man's cognitive elaboration has transformed it. But, in\ndefence we must urge that all our conceptual apparatus was employed,\nnot for the characterisation of the primitive world-picture, nor\nfor the determination of its qualities, but solely for the guidance\nof our analysis, in order to lead it to the point where knowledge\nrecognises that it began. Hence, there can be no question of the\ntruth or error, correctness or incorrectness, of the reflections\nwhich, according to our view, precede the moment which brings us\nto the starting-point of the Theory of Knowledge. Their purpose is\nsolely to guide us conveniently to that point. Nobody who is about to\noccupy himself with epistemological problems, stands at the same time\nat what we have rightly called the starting-point of knowledge, for\nhis knowledge is already, up to a certain degree, developed. Nothing\nbut analysis with the help of concepts enables us to eliminate from\nour developed knowledge all the gains of cognitive activity and to\ndetermine the starting-point which precedes all such activity. But\nthe concepts thus employed have no cognitive value. They have the\npurely negative task to eliminate out of our field of vision whatever\nis the result of cognitive activity and to lead us to the point where\nthis activity first begins. The present discussions point the way to\nthose primitive beginnings upon which the cognitive activity sets to\nwork, but they form no part of such activity. Thus, whatever Theory of\nKnowledge has to say in the process of determining the starting-point,\nmust be judged, not as true or false, but only as fit or unfit for this\npurpose. Error is excluded, too, from that starting-point itself. For,\nerror can begin only with the activity of cognition; prior to this,\nit cannot occur.\n\nThis last proposition is compatible only with the kind of Theory of\nKnowledge which sets out from our line of thought. For, a theory which\nsets out from some object (or subject) with a definite conceptual\ndetermination is liable to error from the very start, viz., in this\nvery determination. Whether this determination is justified or not,\ndepends on the laws which the cognitive act establishes. This is\na question to which only the course of the epistemological inquiry\nitself can supply the answer. All error is excluded only when I can\nsay that I have eliminated all conceptual determinations which are\nthe results of my cognitive activity, and that I retain nothing but\nwhat enters the circle of my experience without any activity on my\npart. Where, on principle, I abstain from every positive affirmation,\nthere I cannot fall into error.\n\nFrom the epistemological point of view, error can occur only within\nthe sphere of cognitive activity. An illusion of the senses is no\nerror. The fact that the rising moon appears to us bigger than the\nmoon overhead is not an error, but a phenomenon fully explained by the\nlaws of nature. An error would result only, if thought, in ordering\nthe data of perception, were to put a false interpretation on the\n\"bigger\" or \"smaller\" size of the moon. But such an interpretation\nwould lie within the sphere of cognitive activity.\n\nIf knowledge is really to be understood in its essential nature,\nwe must, without doubt, begin our study of it at the point where\nit originates, where it starts. Moreover, it is clear that whatever\nprecedes its starting-point has no legitimate place in any explanatory\nTheory of Knowledge, but must simply be taken for granted. It is\nthe task of science, in its several branches, to study the essential\nnature of all that we are here taking for granted. Our aim, here, is\nnot to acquire specific knowledge of this or that, but to investigate\nknowledge as such. We must first understand the act of cognition,\nbefore we can judge what significance to attach to the affirmations\nabout the content of the world which come to be made in the process\nof getting to know that content.\n\nFor this reason, we abstain from every attempt to determine what is\nimmediately-given, so long as we are ignorant of the relation of our\ndeterminations to what is determined by them. Not even the concept of\nthe \"immediately-given\" affirms any positive determination of what\nprecedes cognition. Its only purpose is to point towards the Given,\nto direct our attention upon it. Here, at the starting-point of the\nTheory of Knowledge, the term merely expresses, in conceptual form, the\ninitial relation of the cognitive activity to the world-content. The\nchoice of this term allows even for the case that the whole\nworld-content should turn out to be nothing but a figment of our own\n\"Ego,\" i.e., that the most extreme subjectivism should be right. For,\nof course, subjectivism does not express a fact which is given. It can,\nat best, be only the result of theoretical considerations. Its truth,\nin other words, needs to be established by the Theory of Knowledge. It\ncannot serve as the presupposition of that theory.\n\nThis immediately-given world-content includes everything which can\nappear within the horizon of our experience, in the widest sense of\nthis term, viz., sensations, percepts, intuitions, feelings, volitions,\ndreams, fancies, representations, concepts, ideas.\n\nIllusions, too, and hallucinations stand at this level exactly on\na par with other elements of the world-content. Only theoretical\nconsiderations can teach us in what relations illusions, etc., stand\nto other percepts.\n\nA Theory of Knowledge which starts from the assumption that all the\nexperiences just enumerated are contents of our consciousness,\nfinds itself confronted at once by the question: How do we\ntranscend our consciousness so as to apprehend reality? Where is\nthe jumping-board which will launch us from the subjective into the\ntrans-subjective? For us, the situation is quite different. For us,\nconsciousness and the idea of the \"Ego\" are, primarily, only items\nin the Immediately-Given, and the relation of the latter to the two\nformer has first to be discovered by knowledge. We do not start from\nconsciousness in order to determine the nature of knowledge, but, vice\nversa, we start from knowledge in order to determine consciousness\nand the relation of subject to object. Seeing that, at the outset,\nwe attach no predicates whatever to the Given, we are bound to ask:\nHow is it that we are able to determine it at all? How is it possible\nto start knowledge anywhere at all? How do we come to designate one\nitem of the world-content, as, e.g., percept, another as concept,\na third as reality, others as appearance, as cause, as effect? How\ndo we come to differentiate ourselves from what is \"objective,\"\nand to contrast \"Ego\" and \"Non-Ego?\"\n\nWe must discover the bridge which leads from the picture of the\nworld as given to the picture of it which our cognitive activity\nunfolds. But the following difficulty confronts us. So long as we do\nnothing but passively gaze at the Given, we can nowhere find a point\nwhich knowledge can take hold of and from which it can develop its\ninterpretations. Somewhere in the Given we must discover the spot\nwhere we can get to work, where something homogeneous to cognition\nmeets us. If everything were merely given, we should never get beyond\nthe bare gazing outwards into the external world and a no less bare\ngazing inwards into the privacy of our inner world. We should, at most,\nbe able to describe, but never to understand, the objects outside of\nus. Our concepts would stand in a purely external, not in an internal,\nrelation to that to which they apply. If there is to be knowledge,\neverything depends on there being, somewhere within the Given, a field\nin which our cognitive activity does not merely presuppose the Given,\nbut is at work in the very heart of the Given itself. In other words,\nthe very strictness with which we hold fast the Given, as merely\ngiven, must reveal that not everything is given. Our demand for the\nGiven turns out to have been one which, in being strictly maintained,\npartially cancels itself. We have insisted on the demand, lest we\nshould arbitrarily fix upon some point as the starting-point of the\nTheory of Knowledge, instead of making a genuine effort to discover\nit. In our sense of the word \"given,\" everything may be given, even\nwhat in its own innermost nature is not given. That is to say, the\nlatter presents itself, in that case, to us purely formally as given,\nbut reveals itself, on closer inspection, for what it really is.\n\nThe whole difficulty in understanding knowledge lies in that we do\nnot create the world-content out of ourselves. If we did so create\nit, there would be no knowledge at all. Only objects which are given\ncan occasion questions for me. Objects which I create receive their\ndeterminations by my act. Hence, I do not need to ask whether these\ndeterminations are true or false.\n\nThis, then, is the second point in our Theory of Knowledge. It\nconsists in the postulate that there must, within the sphere of the\nGiven, be a point at which our activity does not float in a vacuum,\nat which the world-content itself enters into our activity.\n\nWe have already determined the starting-point of the Theory of\nKnowledge by assigning it a place wholly antecedent to all cognitive\nactivity, lest we should distort that activity by some prejudice\nborrowed from among its own results. Now we determine the first step\nin the development of our knowledge in such a way that, once more,\nthere can be no question of error or incorrectness. For, we affirm no\njudgment about anything whatsoever, but merely state the condition\nwhich must be fulfilled if knowledge is to be acquired at all. It\nis all-important that we should, with the most complete critical\nself-consciousness, keep before our minds the fact that we are\npostulating the very character which that part of the world-content\nmust possess on which our cognitive activity can begin to operate.\n\nNothing else is, in fact, possible. As given, the world-content is\nwholly without determinations. No part of it can by itself furnish\nthe impulse for order to begin to be introduced into the chaos. Hence,\ncognitive activity must issue its edict and declare what the character\nof that part is to be. Such an edict in no way infringes the character\nof the Given as such. It introduces no arbitrary affirmation into\nscience. For, in truth, it affirms nothing. It merely declares that,\nif the possibility of knowledge is to be explicable at all, we need\nto look for a field like the one above described. If there is such a\nfield, knowledge can be explained; if not, not. We began our Theory\nof Knowledge with the \"Given\" as a whole; now we limit our requirement\nto the singling out of a particular field within the Given.\n\nLet us come to closer grips with this requirement. Where within\nthe world-picture do we find something which is not merely given,\nbut is given only in so far as it is at the same time created by the\ncognitive activity?\n\nWe need to be absolutely clear that this creative activity must, in\nits turn, be given to us in all its immediacy. No inferences must be\nrequired in order to know that it occurs. Thence it follows, at once,\nthat sense-data do not meet our requirement. For, the fact that they\ndo not occur without our activity is known to us, not immediately,\nbut as an inference from physical and physiological arguments. On the\nother hand, we do know immediately that it is only in and through the\ncognitive act that concepts and ideas enter into the sphere of the\nImmediately-Given. Hence, no one is deceived concerning the character\nof concepts and ideas. It is possible to mistake a hallucination for an\nobject given from without, but no one is ever likely to believe that\nhis concepts are given without the activity of his own thinking. A\nlunatic will regard as real, though they are in fact unreal, only\nthings and relations which have attached to them the predicate of\n\"actuality,\" but he will never say of his concepts and ideas that they\nhave come into the world without his activity. Everything else in our\nworld-picture is such that it must be given, if it is to be experienced\nby us. Only of our concepts and ideas is the opposite true: they must\nbe produced by us, if they are to be experienced. They, and only they,\nare given in a way which might be called intellectual intuition. Kant\nand the modern philosophers who follow him deny altogether that man\npossesses this kind of intuition, on the ground that all our thinking\nrefers solely to objects and is absolutely impotent to produce anything\nout of itself, whereas in intellectual intuition form and matter must\nbe given together. But, is not precisely this actually the case with\npure concepts and ideas? [48] To see this, we must consider them purely\nin the form in which, as yet, they are quite free from all empirical\ncontent. In order, e.g., to comprehend the pure concept of causality,\nwe must go, not to a particular instance of causality nor to the sum\nof all instances, but to the pure concept itself. Particular causes\nand effects must be discovered by investigation in the world, but\ncausality as a Form of Thought must be created by ourselves before we\ncan discover causes in the world. If we hold fast to Kant's thesis\nthat concepts without percepts are empty, it becomes unintelligible\nhow the determination of the Given by concepts is to be possible. For,\nsuppose there are given two items of the world-content, a and b. In\norder to find a relation between them, I must be guided in my search\nby a rule of determinate content. Such a rule I can only create in the\nact of cognition itself. I cannot derive it from the object, because\nit is only with the help of the rule that the object is to receive\nits determinations. Such a rule, therefore, for the determination of\nthe real has its being wholly in purely conceptual form.\n\nBefore passing on, we must meet a possible objection. It might seem as\nif in our argument we had unconsciously assigned a prominent part to\nthe idea of the \"Ego,\" or the \"personal subject,\" and as if we employed\nthis idea in the development of our line of thought, without having\nestablished our right to do so. For example, we have said that \"we\nproduce concepts,\" or that \"we make this or that demand.\" But these\nare mere forms of speech which play no part in our argument. That\nthe cognitive act is the act of, and originates in, an \"Ego,\" can,\nas we have already pointed out, be affirmed only as an inference in\nthe process of knowledge itself. Strictly, we ought at the outset\nto speak only of cognitive activity without so much as mentioning a\ncognitive agent. For, all that has been established so far amounts\nto no more than this, (1) that something is \"given,\" and (2) that\nat a certain point within the \"given\" there originates the postulate\nset forth above; also, that concepts and ideas are the entities which\nanswer to that postulate. This is not to deny that the point at which\nthe postulate originates is the \"Ego.\" But, in the first instance,\nwe are content to establish these two steps in the Theory of Knowledge\nin their abstract purity.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nKNOWLEDGE AND REALITY\n\n\nConcepts and ideas, then, though themselves part of the Given, yet at\nthe same time take us beyond the Given. Thus, they make it possible\nto determine also the nature of the other modes of cognitive activity.\n\nBy means of a postulate, we have selected a special part out of the\ngiven world-picture, because it is the very essence of knowledge to\nproceed from a part with just this character. Thus, we have made the\nselection solely in order to be able to understand knowledge. But,\nwe must clearly confess to ourselves that by this selection we have\nartificially torn in two the unity of the given world-picture. We\nmust bear in mind that the part which we have divorced from the Given\nstill continues, quite apart from our postulate and independently of\nit, to stand in a necessary connection with the world as given. This\nfact determines the next step forward in the Theory of Knowledge. It\nwill consist in restoring the unity which we have destroyed in order\nto show how knowledge is possible. This restoration will consist\nin thinking about the world as given. The act of thinking about the\nworld actually effects the synthesis of the two parts of the given\nworld-content--of the Given which we survey up to the horizon of\nour experience, and of the part which, in order to be also given,\nmust be produced by us in the activity of cognition. The cognitive\nact is the synthesis of these two factors. In every single cognitive\nact the one factor appears as something produced in the act itself\nand as added to the other factor which is the pure datum. It is only\nat the very start of the Theory of Knowledge that the factor which\notherwise appears as always produced, appears also as given.\n\nTo think about the world is to transmute the given world by means\nof concepts and ideas. Thinking, thus, is in very truth the act\nwhich brings about knowledge. Knowledge can arise only if thinking,\nout of itself, introduces order into the content of the world as\ngiven. Thinking is itself an activity which produces a content of\nits own in the moment of cognition. Hence, the content cognised, in\nso far as it has its origin solely in thinking, offers no difficulty\nto cognition. We need only observe it, for in its essential nature\nit is immediately given to us. The description of thinking is\nalso the science of thinking. In fact, Logic was never anything\nbut a description of the forms of thinking, never a demonstrative\nscience. For, demonstration occurs only when there is a synthesis\nof the products of thinking with a content otherwise given. Hence,\nGideon Spicker is quite right when he says in his book, Lessing's\nWeltanschauung (p. 5): \"We have no means of knowing, either empirically\nor logically, whether the results of thinking, as such, are true.\" We\nmay add that, since demonstration already presupposes thinking,\nthinking itself cannot be demonstrated. We can demonstrate a particular\nfact, but we cannot demonstrate the process of demonstrating itself. We\ncan only describe what a demonstration is. All logical theory is wholly\nempirical. Logic is a science which consists only of observation. But\nif we want to get to know anything over and above our thinking, we can\ndo so only with the help of thinking. That is to say, our thinking\nmust apply itself to something given and transform its chaotic into\na systematic connection with the world-picture. Thinking, then, in\nits application to the world as given, is a formative principle. The\nprocess is as follows. First, thinking selects certain details out\nof the totality of the Given. For, in the Given, there are strictly\nno individual details, but only an undifferentiated continuum. Next,\nthinking relates the selected details to each other according to\nthe forms which it has itself produced. And, lastly, it determines\nwhat follows from this relation. The act of relating two distinct\nitems of the world-content to each other does not imply that thinking\narbitrarily determines something about them. Thinking waits and sees\nwhat is the spontaneous consequence of the relation established. With\nthis consequence we have at last some degree of knowledge of the\ntwo selected items of the world-content. Suppose the world-content\nreveals nothing of its nature in response to the establishment of\nsuch a relation, then the effort of thinking must miscarry, and a\nfresh effort must take its place. All cognitions consist in this,\nthat two or more items of the Given are brought into relation with\neach other by us and that we apprehend what follows from this relation.\n\nWithout doubt, many of our efforts of thinking miscarry, not only\nin the sciences, as is amply proved by their history, but also in\nordinary life. But in the simple cases of mistake which are, after all,\nthe commonest, the correct thought so rapidly replaces the incorrect,\nthat the latter is never, or rarely, noticed.\n\nKant, in his theory of the \"synthetic unity of apperception,\" had an\ninkling of this activity of thought in the systematic organisation of\nthe world-content, as we have here developed it. But his failure to\nappreciate clearly the real function of thinking is revealed by the\nfact, that he believes himself able to deduce the a priori laws of\nPure Natural Science from the rules according to which this synthetic\nactivity proceeds. Kant has overlooked that the synthetic activity of\nthinking is merely the preparation for the discovery of natural laws\nproperly so-called. Suppose we select two items, a and b, from the\nGiven. For knowledge to arise of a nexus according to law between a\nand b, the first requirement is that thinking should so relate a and\nb, that the relation may appear to us as given. Thus, the content\nproper of the law of nature is derived from what is given, and the\nsole function of thinking is to establish such relations between the\nitems of the world-picture that the laws to which they are subject\nbecome manifest. The pure synthetic activity of thinking is not the\nsource of any objective laws whatever.\n\nWe must inquire what part thinking plays in the formation of our\nscientific world-picture as distinct from the merely given one. It\nfollows from our account that thinking supplies the formal principle\nof the conformity of phenomena to law. Suppose, in our example above,\nthat a is the cause, b the effect. Unless thinking were able to produce\nthe concept of causality, we should never be able to know that a and b\nwere causally connected. But, in order that we may know, in the given\ncase, that a is the cause and b the effect, it is necessary for a and b\nto possess the characteristics which we mean when we speak of cause and\neffect. A similar analysis applies to the other categories of thought.\n\nIt will be appropriate to notice here in a few words Hume's discussion\nof causality. According to Hume, the concepts of cause and effect\nhave their origin solely in custom. We observe repeatedly that one\nevent follows another and become accustomed to think of them as\ncausally connected, so that we expect the second to occur as soon\nas we have observed the first. This theory, however, springs from a\ntotally mistaken view of the causal relation. Suppose for several\ndays running I observe the same person whenever I step out of the\ndoor of my house, I shall gradually form the habit of expecting the\ntemporal sequence of the two events. But, it will never occur to me to\nthink that there is any causal connection between my own appearance\nand that of the other person at the same spot. I shall call in aid\nessentially other items of the world-content in order to explain the\ncoincidence of these events. In short, we determine the causal nexus\nof two events, not according to their temporal sequence, but according\nto the essential character of the items of the world-content which\nwe call, respectively, cause and effect.\n\nFrom this purely formal activity of our thinking in the construction\nof the scientific picture of the world, it follows that the content of\nevery cognition cannot be fixed a priori in advance of observation\n(in which thinking comes to grips with the Given), but must be\nderived completely and exhaustively from observation. In this sense,\nall our cognitions are empirical. Nor is it possible to see how it\ncould be otherwise. For, Kant's judgments a priori are at bottom,\nnot cognitions, but postulates. On Kant's principles, all we can\never say is only this, that if a thing is to become the object\nof possible experience, it must conform to these laws. They are,\ntherefore, rules which the subject prescribes to all objects. But,\nwe should rather expect cognitions of the Given to have their source,\nnot in the constitution of the subject, but in that of the object.\n\nThinking makes no a priori affirmations about the Given. But it creates\nthe forms, on the basis of which the conformity of phenomena to law\nbecomes manifest a posteriori.\n\nFrom our point of view, it is impossible to determine anything a priori\nabout the degree of certainty belonging to a judgment which embodies\nknowledge thus gained. For, certainty, too, derives from nothing\nother than the Given. Perhaps it will be objected that observation\nnever establishes anything except that a certain nexus of phenomena\nactually occurs, but not that it must occur, and will always occur,\nin like conditions. But, this suggestion, too, is in error. For any\nnexus which I apprehend between elements in the world-picture is,\non our principles, nothing but what is grounded in these elements\nthemselves. It is not imported into these elements by thinking, but\nbelongs to them essentially, and must, therefore, necessarily exist\nwhenever they themselves exist.\n\nOnly a view which regards all scientific research as nothing but the\nendeavour to correlate the facts of experience by means of principles\nwhich are subjective and external to the facts, can hold that the\nnexus of a and b may to-day obey one law and to-morrow another\n(J. S. Mill). On the other hand, if we see clearly that the laws of\nnature have their source in the Given, and that, therefore, the nexus\nof phenomena essentially depends upon, and is determined by, them,\nwe shall never think of talking of a \"merely relative universality\"\nof the laws which are derived from observation. This is, of course,\nnot to assert that any given law which we have once accepted as\ncorrect, must be absolutely valid. But when, later, a negative\ninstance overthrows a law, the reason is, not that the law from the\nfirst could be inferred only with relative universality, but that it\nhad not at first been inferred correctly. A genuine law of nature is\nnothing but the formulation of a nexus in the given world-picture,\nand it exists as little without the facts which it determines, as\nthese exist without it.\n\nAbove, we have laid down that it is the essence of the cognitive\nactivity to transmute, by thinking, the given world-picture by\nmeans of concepts and ideas. What follows from this fact? If the\nImmediately-Given were a totality complete in itself, the work\nwhich thinking does upon it in cognition would be both impossible\nand unnecessary. We should simply accept the Given, as it is, and be\nsatisfied with it as such. Cognitive activity is possible only because\nin the Given something lies hidden which does not yet reveal itself\nso long as we gaze at the Given in its immediacy, but which becomes\nmanifest with the aid of the order which thinking introduces. Prior\nto the work of thinking, the Given does not possess the fulness of\nits own complete nature.\n\nThis point becomes still more obvious by considering in greater\ndetail the two factors involved in the act of cognition. The first\nfactor is the Given. \"Being given\" is not a quality of the Given,\nbut merely a term expressing its relation to the second factor in the\nact of cognition. This second factor, viz., the conceptual content\nof the Given, is found by our thought in the act of cognition to\nbe necessarily connected with the Given. Two questions arise: (1)\nWhere are the Given and the Concept differentiated? (2) Where are they\nunited? The answer to these two questions is to be found, beyond any\ndoubt, in the preceding discussions. They are differentiated solely in\nthe act of cognition. They are united in the Given. Thence it follows\nnecessarily that the conceptual content is but a part of the Given,\nand that the act of cognition consists in re-uniting with each other\nthe two parts of the world-picture which are, at first, given to it in\nseparation. The given world-picture thus attains its completion only\nthrough that mediate kind of givenness which thinking brings about. In\nits original immediacy the world-picture is altogether incomplete.\n\nIf the conceptual content were from the first united with the Given\nin our world-picture, there would be no cognition. For, no need could\never arise of transcending the Given. So, again, if by thinking and\nin thinking we could create the whole world-content, once more there\nwould be no cognition. For, what we create ourselves we do not need to\ncognise. Hence, cognition exists because the world-content is given to\nus originally in a form which is incomplete, which does not contain it\nas a whole, but which, over and above what it presents immediately,\nowns another, no less essential, aspect. This second aspect of\nthe world-content--an aspect not originally given--is revealed by\ncognition. Pure thinking presents in the abstract, not empty forms,\nbut a sum of determinations (categories) which serve as forms for the\nrest of the world-content. The world-content can be called REALITY\nonly in the form which it acquires through cognition and in which\nboth aspects of it are united.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHEORY OF KNOWLEDGE WITHOUT PRESUPPOSITIONS VERSUS FICHTE'S THEORY\nOF SCIENCE\n\n\nSo far, we have determined the idea of knowledge. This idea is\ngiven immediately in the human consciousness whenever it functions\ncognitively. To the \"Ego,\" as the centre [49] of consciousness, are\ngiven immediately external and internal perceptions, as well as its\nown existence. The Ego feels impelled to find more in the Given than\nit immediately contains. Over against the given world, a second world,\nthe world of thinking, unfolds itself for the Ego and the Ego unites\nthese two by realising, of its own free will, the idea of knowledge\nwhich we have determined. This accounts for the fundamental difference\nbetween the way in which in the objects of human consciousness itself\nthe concept and the Immediately-Given unite to form Reality in its\nwholeness, and the way in which their union obtains in the rest of\nthe world-content. For every other part of the world-content we must\nassume that the union of the two factors is original and necessary from\nthe first, and that it is only for cognition, when cognition begins,\nthat an artificial separation has supervened, but that cognition\nin the end undoes the separation in keeping with the original and\nessential unity of the object-world. For consciousness the case is\nquite otherwise. Here the union exists only when it is achieved by\nthe living activity of consciousness itself. With every other kind\nof object, the separation of the two factors is significant, not for\nthe object, but only for knowledge. Their union is here original,\ntheir separation derivative. Cognition effects a separation only\nbecause it must first separate before it can achieve union by its\nown methods. But, for consciousness, the Concept and the Given\nare originally separate. Union is here derivative, and that is why\ncognition has the character which we have described. Just because in\nconsciousness Idea and Given appear in separation, does the whole of\nreality split itself for consciousness into these two factors. And,\nagain, just because consciousness can bring about the union of the two\nfactors only by its own activity, can it reach full reality only by\nperforming the act of cognition. The remaining categories (ideas) would\nbe necessarily united with the corresponding lands of the Given, even\nif they were not taken up into cognition. But the idea of cognition\ncan be united with the Given which corresponds to it, only by the\nactivity of consciousness. Real consciousness exists only in realising\nitself. With these remarks we believe ourselves to be sufficiently\nequipped for laying bare the root-error of Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre\nand, at the same time, for supplying the key to the understanding\nof it. Fichte is among all Kant's successors the one who has felt\nmost vividly that nothing but a theory of consciousness can supply\nthe foundation for all the sciences. But he never clearly understood\nwhy this is so. He felt that the act which we have called the second\nstep in the Theory of Knowledge and which we have formulated as a\npostulate, must really be performed by the \"Ego.\" This may be seen,\ne.g., from the following passage. \"The Theory of Science, then, arises,\nas itself a systematic discipline, just as do all possible sciences\nin so far as they are systematic, through a certain act of freedom,\nthe determinate function of which is, more particularly, to make us\nconscious of the characteristic activity of intelligence as such. The\nresult of this free act is that the necessary activity of intelligence,\nwhich in itself already is form, is further taken up as matter into a\nfresh form of cognition or consciousness.\" [50] What does Fichte here\nmean by the activity of the \"intelligence,\" when we translate what he\nhas obscurely felt into clear concepts? Nothing but the realisation\nof the idea of knowledge, taking place in consciousness. Had this been\nperfectly clear to Fichte, he ought to have expressed his view simply\nby saying, \"It is the task of the Theory of Science to bring cognition,\nin so far as it is still an unreflective activity of the 'Ego,' into\nreflective consciousness; it has to show that the realisation of the\nidea of cognition in actual fact is a necessary activity of the 'Ego.'\"\n\nFichte tries to determine the activity of the \"Ego.\" He declares\n\"that the being, the essence of which consists solely in this that\nit posits itself as existing, is the Ego as absolute subject.\" [51]\nThis positing of the Ego is for Fichte the original, unconditioned\nact \"which lies at the basis of all the rest of consciousness.\" [52]\nIt follows that the Ego, in Fichte's sense, can likewise begin\nall its activity only through an absolute fiat of the will. But,\nit is impossible for Fichte to supply any sort of content for this\nactivity which his \"Ego\" absolutely posits. For, Fichte can name\nnothing upon which this activity might direct itself, or by which it\nmight be determined. His Ego is supposed to perform an act. Yes, but\nwhat is it to do? Fichte failed to define the concept of cognition\nwhich the Ego is to realise, and, in consequence, he struggled\nin vain to find any way of advancing from his absolute act to the\ndetailed determinations of the Ego. Nay, in the end he declares that\nthe inquiry into the manner of this advance lies outside the scope\nof his theory. In his deduction of the idea of cognition he starts\nneither from an absolute act of the Ego, nor from one of the Non-Ego,\nbut from a state of being determined which is, at the same time, an act\nof determining. His reason for this is that nothing else either is,\nor can be, immediately contained in consciousness. His theory leaves\nit wholly vague what determines, in turn, this determination. And it\nis this vagueness which drives us on beyond Fichte's theory into the\npractical part of the Wissenschaftslehre. [53] But, by this turn Fichte\ndestroys all knowledge whatsoever. For, the practical activity of the\nEgo belongs to quite a different sphere. The postulate which we have\nput forward above can, indeed, be realised--so much is clear--only by\na free act of the Ego. But, if this act is to be a cognitive act, the\nall-important point is that its voluntary decision should be to realise\nthe idea of cognition. It is, no doubt, true that the Ego by its own\nfree will can do many other things as well. But, what matters for the\nepistemological foundation of the sciences is not a definition of what\nit is for the Ego to be free, but of what it is to know. Fichte has\nallowed himself to be too much influenced by his subjective tendency to\npresent the freedom of human personality in the brightest light. Harms,\nin his address on The Philosophy of Fichte (p. 15), rightly remarks,\n\"His world-view is predominantly and exclusively ethical, and the\nsame character is exhibited by his Theory of Knowledge.\" Knowledge\nwould have absolutely nothing to do, if all spheres of reality were\ngiven in their totality. But, seeing that the Ego, so long as it has\nnot been, by thinking, inserted into its place in the systematic\nwhole of the world-picture, exists merely as an immediately-given\nsomething, it is not enough merely to point out what it does. Fichte,\nhowever, believes that all we need to do concerning the Ego is to seek\nand find it. \"We have to seek and find the absolutely first, wholly\nunconditioned principle of all human knowledge. Being absolutely first,\nthis principle admits neither of proof nor of determination.\" [54]\nWe have seen that proof and determination are out of place solely as\napplied to the content of Pure Logic. But the Ego is a part of reality,\nand this makes it necessary to establish that this or that category is\nactually to be found in the Given. Fichte has failed to do this. And\nthis is the reason why he has given such a mistaken form to his Theory\nof Science. Zeller remarks [55] that the logical formul\u00e6 by means of\nwhich Fichte seeks to reach the concept of the Ego, do but ill disguise\nhis predetermined purpose at any price to reach this starting-point for\nhis theory. This comment applies to the first form (1794) which Fichte\ngave to his Wissenschaftslehre. Taking it, then, as established that\nFichte, in keeping with the whole trend of his philosophical thinking,\ncould not, in fact, rest content with any other starting-point for\nknowledge than an absolute and arbitrary act, we have the choice\nbetween only two ways of making this start intelligible. The one\nway was to seize upon some one among the empirical activities of\nconsciousness and to strip off, one by one, all the characteristics\nof it which do not follow originally from its essential nature, until\nthe pure concept of the Ego had been crystallised out. The other way\nwas to begin, straightway, with the original activity of the Ego,\nand to exhibit its nature by introspection and reflection. Fichte\nfollowed the first way at the outset of his philosophical thinking,\nbut in the course of it he gradually switched over to the other.\n\nBasing himself upon Kant's \"synthesis of transcendental apperception,\"\nFichte concluded that the whole activity of the Ego in the synthesis\nof the matter of experience proceeds according to the forms of the\njudgment. To judge is to connect a predicate with a subject--an act of\nwhich the purely formal expression is a = a. This proposition would be\nimpossible if the x which connects predicate and subject, did not rest\nupon a power to affirm unconditionally. For, the proposition does not\nmean, \"a exists\"; it means, \"if a exists, then there exists a.\" Thus,\na is most certainly not affirmed absolutely. Hence, if there is to be\nan absolute, unconditionally valid affirmation, there is no alternative\nbut to declare the act of affirming itself to be absolute. Whereas a\nis conditioned, the affirming of a is unconditioned. This affirming\nis the act of the Ego which, thus, possesses the power to affirm\nabsolutely and without conditions. In the proposition, a = a, the one a\nis affirmed only on condition of the other being presupposed. Moreover,\nthe affirming is an act of the Ego. \"If a is affirmed in the Ego, it\nis affirmed.\" [56] This connection is possible only on condition that\nthere is in the Ego something always self-identical, which effects\nthe transition from the one a to the other. The above-mentioned x\nis this self-identical aspect of the Ego. The Ego which affirms the\none a is the same Ego as that which affirms the other a. This is to\nsay Ego = Ego. But this proposition, expressed in judgment-form, \"If\nthe Ego is, it is,\" is meaningless. For, the Ego is not affirmed on\ncondition of another Ego having been presupposed, but it presupposes\nitself. In short, the Ego is absolute and unconditioned. The\nhypothetical judgment-form which is the form of all judgments,\nso long as the absolute Ego is not presupposed, changes for the\nEgo into the form of the categorical affirmation of existence, \"I\nam unconditionally.\" Fichte has another way of putting this: \"the\nEgo originally affirms its own existence.\" [57] Clearly, this whole\ndeduction is nothing but a sort of elementary school-drill by means of\nwhich Fichte tries to lead his readers to the point at which they will\nperceive for themselves the unconditioned activity of the Ego. His aim\nis to put clearly before their eyes that fundamental activity of the\nEgo in the absence of which there is no such thing as an Ego at all.\n\nLet us now look back, once more, over Fichte's line of thought. On\ncloser inspection, it becomes obvious that it contains a leap--a leap,\nmoreover, which throws grave doubts upon the correctness of his theory\nof the original act of the Ego. What precisely is it that is absolute\nin the affirmation of the Ego? Take the judgment, \"If a exists,\nthen there exists a.\" The a is affirmed by the Ego. So far there is\nno room for doubt. But, though the act is unconditioned, yet the Ego\nmust affirm something in particular. It cannot affirm an \"activity in\ngeneral and as such\"; it can affirm only a particular, determinate\nactivity. In short, the affirmation must have a content. But,\nit cannot derive this content from itself, for else we should get\nnothing but affirmations of acts of affirmation in infinitum. Hence,\nthere must be something which is realised by this affirming, by\nthis absolute activity of the Ego. If the Ego does not seize upon\nsomething given in order to affirm it, it can do nothing at all, and,\nconsequently, it cannot affirm either. This is proved, too, by Fichte's\nproposition, \"the Ego affirms its own existence.\" \"Existence,\" here,\nis a category. Thus, we are back at our own position: the activity of\nthe Ego consists in that it affirms, of its own free will, the concepts\nand ideas inherent in the Given. If Fichte had not unconsciously\nbeen determined to exhibit the Ego as \"existing,\" he would have\ngot nowhere at all. If, instead, he had built up the concept of\ncognition, he would have reached the true starting-point of the Theory\nof Knowledge, viz., \"The Ego affirms the act of cognition.\" Because\nFichte failed to make clear to himself what determines the activity\nof the Ego, he fixed simply upon the affirmation of its own existence\nas the character of that activity. But, this is at once to restrict\nthe absolute activity of the Ego. For, if nothing is unconditioned\nexcept the Ego's affirmation of its own existence, then every other\nactivity of the Ego is conditioned. Moreover, the way is cut off\nfor passing from the unconditioned to the conditioned. If the Ego is\nunconditioned only in the affirmation of its own existence, then at\nonce there is cut off all possibility of affirming by an original act\nanything other than its own existence. Hence, the necessity arises to\nassign a ground for all the other activities of the Ego. But Fichte,\nas we have seen above, sought for such a ground in vain.\n\nThis is the reason why he shifted to the second of the two ways,\nindicated above, for the deduction of the Ego. Already in 1797,\nin his Erste Einleitung in die Wissenschaftslehre, he recommends\nself-observation as the right method for studying the Ego in its\ntrue, original character. \"Observe and watch thyself, turn thy\neye away from all that surrounds thee and look into thyself--this\nis the first demand which philosophy makes upon its disciple. The\ntopic of our discourse, is, not anything outside thyself, but thyself\nalone.\" [58] This introduction to the Theory of Science is, in truth,\nin one way much superior to the other. For, self-observation does\nnot make us acquainted with the activity of the Ego one-sidedly in a\nfixed direction. It exhibits that activity, not merely as affirming\nits own existence, but as striving, in its many-sided development, to\ncomprehend by thinking the world-content which is immediately-given. To\nself-observation, the Ego reveals itself as engaged in building up\nits world-picture by the synthesis of the Given with concepts. But,\nanyone who has not accompanied us in our line of thought above, and\nwho, consequently, does not know that the Ego can grasp the whole\ncontent of reality only on condition of applying its Thought-Forms to\nthe Given, is liable to regard cognition as a mere process of spinning\nthe world out of the Ego itself. Hence, for Fichte the world-picture\ntends increasingly to become a construction of the Ego. He emphasises\nmore and more that the main point in the Wissenschaftslehre is to\nawaken the sense which is able to watch the Ego in this constructing\nof its world. He who is able thus to watch stands, for Fichte, on a\nhigher level of knowledge than he who has eyes only for the finished\nconstruct, the ready-made world. If we fix our eyes only on the world\nof objects, we fail to perceive that, but for the creative activity\nof the Ego, that world would not exist. If, on the other hand,\nwe watch the Ego in its constructive activity, we understand the\nground of the finished world-picture. We know how it has come to be\nwhat it is. We understand it as the conclusion for which we have the\npremises. The ordinary consciousness sees only what has been affirmed,\nwhat has been determined thus or thus. It lacks the insight into the\npremises, into the grounds why an affirmation is just as it is and not\notherwise. To mediate the knowledge of these premises is, according\nto Fichte, the task of a wholly new sense. This is expressed most\nclearly in the Einleitungsvorlesungen in die Wissenschaftslehre. [59]\n\"My theory presupposes a wholly novel inward sense-organ, by means\nof which a new world is given which does not exist for the ordinary\nman at all.\" Or, again, \"The world of this novel sense, and thereby\nthis sense itself, are hereby for the present clearly determined: it\nis the world in which we see the premises on which is grounded the\njudgment, 'Something exists'; it is the ground of existence which,\njust because it is the ground of existence, cannot, in its turn,\nbe said to be or to be an existence.\" [60]\n\nBut, here, too, Fichte lacks clear insight into the activity of\nthe Ego. He has never worked his way through to it. That is why his\nWissenschaftslehre could not become what else, from its whole design,\nit ought to have become, viz., a Theory of Knowledge as the fundamental\ndiscipline of philosophy. For, after it had once been recognised that\nthe activity of the Ego must be affirmed by the Ego itself, it was very\neasy to think that the activity receives its determination also from\nthe Ego. But how else can this happen except we assign a content to\nthe purely formal activity of the Ego? If the Ego is really to import\na content into its activity which, else, is wholly undetermined, then\nthe nature of that content must also be determined. For, failing this,\nit could at best be realised only by some \"thing-in-itself\" in the Ego,\nof which the Ego would be the instrument, but not by the Ego itself. If\nFichte had attempted to furnish this determination, he would have\nbeen led to the concept of cognition which it is the task of the Ego\nto realise. Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre proves that even the acutest\nthinker fails to make fruitful contributions to any philosophical\ndiscussion, unless he lays hold of the correct Thought-Form (category,\nidea) which, supplemented by the Given, yields reality. Such a thinker\nis like a man who fails to hear the most glorious melodies which are\nbeing played for him, because he has no ear for tunes. If we are to\ndetermine the nature of consciousness, as given, we must be able to\nrise to, and make our own, the \"idea of consciousness.\"\n\nAt one point Fichte is actually quite close to the true view. He\ndeclares, in the Einleitungen zur Wissenschaftslehre (1797), that\nthere are two theoretical systems, viz., Dogmatism, for which the Ego\nis determined by the objects, and Idealism, for which the objects\nare determined by the Ego. Both are, according to him, established\nas possible theories of the world; both can be developed into\nself-consistent systems. But, if we throw in our lot with Dogmatism,\nwe must abandon the independence of the Ego and make it dependent on\nthe \"thing-in-itself.\" If we do not want to do this, we must adopt\nIdealism. The philosopher's choice between these two systems is left\nby Fichte wholly to the preference of the Ego. But he adds that if\nthe Ego desires to preserve its independence, it will give up the\nbelief in external things and surrender itself to Idealism.\n\nBut, what Fichte forgot was the consideration that the Ego cannot make\nany genuine, well-grounded decision or choice, unless something is\npresupposed which helps the Ego to choose. All the Ego's attempts at\ndetermination remain empty and without content, if the Ego does not\nfind something wholly determinate and full of content, which enables\nit to determine the Given, and thereby also to choose between Idealism\nand Dogmatism. This \"something wholly determinate and full of content\"\nis, precisely, the world of Thought. And the determination of the\nGiven by thinking is, precisely, what we call cognition. We may take\nFichte where we please--everywhere we find that his line of thought\nat once gets meaning and substance, as soon as we conceive his grey,\nempty activity of the Ego to be filled and regulated by what we have\ncalled \"the process of cognition.\"\n\nThe fact that the Ego is free to enter into activity out of itself,\nmakes it possible for it, by free self-determination, to realise the\ncategory of cognition, whereas in the rest of the world all categories\nare connected by objective necessity with the Given which corresponds\nto them. The investigation of the nature of free self-determination\nwill be the task of Ethics and Metaphysics, based on our Theory of\nKnowledge. These disciplines, too, will have to debate the question\nwhether the Ego is able to realise other ideas, besides the idea of\ncognition. But, that the realisation of the idea of cognition issues\nfrom a free act has been made sufficiently clear in the course of\nour discussions above. For, the synthesis, effected by the Ego,\nof the Immediately-Given and of the Form of Thought appropriate to\nit, which two factors of reality remain otherwise always divorced\nfrom each other in consciousness, can be brought about only by\nan act of freedom. Moreover, our arguments throw, in another way,\nquite a fresh light on Critical Idealism. To any close student of\nFichte's system it will appear as if Fichte cared for nothing so\nmuch as for the defence of the proposition, that nothing can enter\nthe Ego from without, that nothing can appear in the Ego which was\nnot the Ego's own original creation. Now, it is beyond all dispute\nthat no type of Idealism will ever be able to derive from within\nthe Ego that form of the world-content which we have called \"the\nImmediately-Given.\" For, this form can only be given; it can never\nbe constructed by thinking. In proof of this, it is enough to reflect\nthat, even if the whole series of colours were given to us except one,\nwe should not be able to fill in that one out of the bare Ego. We\ncan form an image of the most remote countries, though we have never\nseen them, provided we have once personally experienced, as given,\nthe details which go to form the image. We then build up the total\npicture, according to the instructions supplied to us, out of the\nparticular facts which we have ourselves experienced. But we shall\nstrive in vain to invent out of ourselves even a single perceptual\nelement which has never appeared within the sphere of what has been\ngiven to us. It is one thing to be merely acquainted with the world;\nit is another to have knowledge of its essential nature. This nature,\nfor all that it is closely identified with the world-content, does\nnot become clear to us unless we build up reality ourselves out of\nthe Given and the Forms of Thought. The real \"what\" of the Given\ncomes to be affirmed for the Ego only through the Ego itself. The Ego\nwould have no occasion to affirm the nature of the Given for itself,\nif it did not find itself confronted at the outset by the Given in\nwholly indeterminate form. Thus, the essential nature of the world\nis affirmed, not apart from, but through, the Ego.\n\nThe true form of reality is not the first form in which it presents\nitself to the Ego, but the last form which it receives through\nthe activity of the Ego. That first form is, in fact, without any\nimportance for the objective world and counts only as the basis for\nthe process of cognition. Hence, it is not the form given to the world\nby theory which is subjective, but rather the form in which the world\nis originally given to the Ego. If, following Volkelt and others,\nwe call the given world \"experience,\" our view amounts to saying:\nThe world-picture presents itself, owing to the constitution of our\nconsciousness, in subjective form as experience, but science completes\nit and makes its true nature manifest.\n\nOur Theory of Knowledge supplies the basis for an Idealism which,\nin the true sense of the word, understands itself. It supplies\ngood grounds for the conviction that thinking brings home to us the\nessential nature of the world. Nothing but thinking can exhibit the\nrelations of the parts of the world-content, be it the relation of\nthe heat of the sun to the stone which it warms, or the relation of\nthe Ego to the external world. Thinking alone has the function of\ndetermining all things in their relations to each other.\n\nThe objection might still be urged by the followers of Kant, that the\ndetermination, above-described, of the Given holds, after all, only\nfor the Ego. Our reply must be, consistently with our principles,\nthat the distinction between Ego and Outer World, too, holds only\nwithin the Given, and that, therefore, it is irrelevant to insist on\nthe phrase, \"for the Ego,\" in the face of the activity of thinking\nwhich unites all opposites. The Ego, as divorced from the outer world,\ndisappears completely in the process of thinking out the nature of the\nworld. Hence it becomes meaningless still to talk of determinations\nwhich hold only for the Ego.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVII\n\nCONCLUDING REMARKS: EPISTEMOLOGICAL\n\n\nWe have laid the foundations of the Theory of Knowledge as the\nscience of the significance of all human knowledge. It alone clears\nup for us the relation of the contents of the separate sciences to\nthe world. It enables us, with the help of the sciences, to attain\nto a philosophical world-view. Positive knowledge is acquired by us\nthrough particular cognitions; what the value of our knowledge is,\nconsidered as knowledge of reality, we learn through the Theory\nof Knowledge. By holding fast strictly to this principle, and by\nemploying no particular cognitions in our argumentation, we have\ntranscended all one-sided world-views. One-sidedness, as a rule,\nresults from the fact that the inquiry, instead of concentrating on\nthe process of cognition itself, busies itself about some object of\nthat process. If our arguments are sound, Dogmatism must abandon its\n\"thing-in-itself\" as fundamental principle, and Subjective Idealism its\n\"Ego,\" for both these owe their determinate natures in their relation\nto each other first to thinking. Scepticism must give up its doubts\nwhether the world can be known, for there is no room for doubt with\nreference to the \"Given,\" because it is as yet untouched by any of\nthe predicates which cognition confers on it. On the other hand, if\nScepticism were to assert that thinking can never apprehend things as\nthey are, its assertion, being itself possible only through thinking,\nwould be self-contradictory. For, to justify doubt by thinking is to\nadmit by implication that thinking can produce grounds sufficient to\nestablish certainty. Lastly, our theory of knowledge transcends both\none-sided Empiricism and one-sided Rationalism in uniting both at a\nhigher level. Thus it does justice to both. It justifies Empiricism\nby showing that all positive knowledge about the Given is obtainable\nonly through direct contact with the Given. And Rationalism, too,\nreceives its due in our argument, seeing that we hold thinking to be\nthe necessary and exclusive instrument of knowledge.\n\nThe world-view which has the closest affinity to ours, as we\nhave here built it up on epistemological foundations, is that of\nA. E. Biedermann. [61] But Biedermann requires for the justification\nof his point of view dogmatic theses which are quite out of place\nin Theory of Knowledge. Thus, e.g., he works with the concepts of\nBeing, Substance, Space, Time, etc., without having first analysed the\ncognitive process by itself. Instead of establishing the fact that the\ncognitive process consists, to begin with, only of the two elements,\nthe Given and Thought, he talks of the Kinds of Being of the real. For\nexample, in Section 15, he says: \"Every content of consciousness\nincludes within itself two fundamental facts--it presents to us, as\ngiven, two kinds of Being which we contrast with each other as sensuous\nand spiritual, thing-like and idea-like, Being.\" And in Section 19:\n\"Whatever has a spatio-temporal existence, exists materially; that\nwhich is the ground of all existence and the subject of life has an\nidea-like existence, is real as having an ideal Being.\" This sort of\nargument belongs, not to the Theory of Knowledge, but to Metaphysics,\nwhich latter presupposes Theory of Knowledge as its foundation. We\nmust admit that Biedermann's doctrine has many points of similarity\nwith ours; but our method has not a single point of contact with\nhis. Hence, we have had no occasion to compare our position directly\nwith his. Biedermann's aim is to gain an epistemological standpoint\nwith the help of a few metaphysical axioms. Our aim is to reach,\nthrough an analysis of the process of cognition, a theory of reality.\n\nAnd we believe that we have succeeded in showing, that all the disputes\nbetween philosophical systems result from the fact that their authors\nhave sought to attain knowledge about some object or other (Thing,\nSelf, Consciousness, etc.), without having first given close study\nto that which alone can throw light on whatever else we know, viz.,\nthe nature of knowledge itself.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nVIII\n\nCONCLUDING REMARKS: PRACTICAL\n\n\nThe aim of the preceding discussions has been to throw light on the\nrelation of our personality, as knower, to the objective world. What\ndoes it signify for us to possess knowledge and science? This was\nthe question to which we sought the answer.\n\nWe have seen that it is just in our knowing that the innermost kernel\nof the world manifestly reveals itself. The harmony, subject to law,\nwhich reigns throughout the whole world, reveals itself precisely in\nhuman cognition.\n\nIt is, therefore, part of the destiny of man to elevate the fundamental\nlaws of the world, which do indeed regulate the whole of existence\nbut which would never become existent in themselves, into the realm\nof realities which appear. This precisely is the essential nature\nof knowledge that in it the world-ground is made manifest which in\nthe object-world can never be discovered. Knowing is--metaphorically\nspeaking--a continual merging of one's life into the world-ground.\n\nSuch a view is bound to throw light also on our practical attitude\ntowards life.\n\nOur conduct is, in its whole character, determined by our moral\nideals. These are the ideas we have of our tasks in life, or, in other\nwords, of the ends which we set ourselves to achieve by our action.\n\nOur conduct is a part of the total world-process. Consequently, it,\ntoo, is subject to the universal laws which regulate this process.\n\nNow, every event in the universe has two sides which must be\ndistinguished: its external sequence in time and space, and its\ninternal conformity to law.\n\nThe apprehension of this conformity of human conduct to law is but\na special case of knowledge. Hence, the conclusions at which we have\narrived concerning the nature of knowledge must apply to this sort of\nknowledge, too. To apprehend oneself as a person who acts is to possess\nthe relevant laws of conduct, i.e., the moral concepts and ideals, in\nthe form of knowledge. It is this knowledge of the conformity of our\nconduct to law which makes our conduct truly ours. For, in that case,\nthe conformity is given, not as external to the object in which the\naction appears, but as the very substance of the object engaged in\nliving activity. The \"object,\" here, is our own Ego. If the Ego has\nwith its knowledge really penetrated the essential nature of conduct,\nthen it feels that it is thereby master of its conduct. Short of this,\nthe laws of conduct confront us as something external. They master\nus. What we achieve, we achieve under the compulsion which they wield\nover us. But this compulsion ceases, as soon as their alien character\nhas been transformed into the Ego's very own activity. Thereafter, the\nlaw no longer rules over us, but rules in us over the actions which\nissue from our Ego. To perform an act in obedience to a law which is\nexternal to the agent is to be unfree. To perform it in obedience to\nthe agent's own law is to be free. To gain knowledge of the laws of\none's own conduct is to become conscious of one's freedom. The process\nof cognition is, thus, according to our arguments, the process of\nthe development of freedom.\n\nNot all human conduct has this character. There are many cases in\nwhich we do not know the laws of our conduct. This part of our conduct\nis the unfree part of our activity. Over against it stands the part\nthe laws of which we make completely our own. This is the realm of\nfreedom. It is only in so far as our life falls into this realm that\nit can be called moral. To transform the actions which are unfree\ninto actions which are free--this is the task of self-development for\nevery individual, this is likewise the task of the whole human race.\n\nThus, the most important problem for all human thinking is to conceive\nman as a personality grounded upon itself and free.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDICES\n\n\nAPPENDIX I\n\nADDITION TO THE REVISED EDITION OF \"THE PHILOSOPHY OF FREEDOM,\" 1918.\n\n\nVarious criticisms on the part of philosophers with which this book\nmet immediately upon its publication, induce me to add to this Revised\nEdition the following brief statement.\n\nI can well understand that there are readers who are interested\nin the rest of the book, but who will look upon what follows as a\ntissue of abstract concepts which to them is irrelevant and makes\nno appeal. They may, if they choose, leave this brief statement\nunread. But in philosophy problems present themselves which have their\norigin rather in certain prejudices on the thinker's part than in\nthe natural progression of normal human thinking. With the main body\nof this book it seems to me to be the duty of every one to concern\nhimself, who is striving for clearness about the essential nature of\nman and his relation to the world. What follows is rather a problem\nthe discussion of which certain philosophers demand as necessary to a\ntreatment of the topics of this book, because these philosophers, by\ntheir whole way of thinking, have created certain difficulties which\ndo not otherwise occur. If I were to pass by these problems entirely,\ncertain people would be quick to accuse me of dilettantism, etc. The\nimpression would thus be created that the author of the views set\ndown in this book has not thought out his position with regard to\nthese problems because he has not discussed them in his book.\n\nThe problem to which I refer is this: there are thinkers who find a\nparticular difficulty in understanding how another mind can act on\none's own. They say: the world of my consciousness is a closed circle\nwithin me; so is the world of another's consciousness within him. I\ncannot look into the world of another's mind. How, then, do I know\nthat he and I are in a common world? The theory according to which\nwe can from the conscious world infer an unconscious world which\nnever can enter consciousness, attempts to solve this difficulty as\nfollows. The world, it says, which I have in my consciousness is the\nrepresentation in me of a real world to which my consciousness has no\naccess. In this transcendent world exist the unknown agents which cause\nthe world in my consciousness. In it, too, exists my own real self,\nof which likewise I have only a representation in my consciousness. In\nit, lastly, exists the essential self of the fellow-man who confronts\nme. Whatever passes in the consciousness of my fellow-man corresponds\nto a reality in his transcendent essence which is independent of\nhis consciousness. His essential nature acts in that realm which,\non this theory, is equally beyond consciousness. Thus an impression\nis made in my consciousness which represents there what is present\nin another's consciousness and wholly beyond the reach of my direct\nawareness. Clearly the point of this theory is to add to the world\naccessible to my consciousness an hypothetical world which is to my\nimmediate experience inaccessible. This is done to avoid the supposed\nalternative of having to say that the external world, which I regard\nas existing before me, is nothing but the world of my consciousness,\nwith the absurd--solipsistic--corollary that other persons likewise\nexist only within my consciousness.\n\nSeveral epistemological tendencies in recent speculation have joined\nin creating this problem. But it is possible to attain to clearness\nabout it by surveying the situation from the point of view of spiritual\nperception which underlies the exposition of this book. What is it\nthat, in the first instance, I have before me when I confront another\nperson? To begin with, there is the sensuous appearance of the other's\nbody, as given in perception. To this we might add the auditory\nperception of what he is saying, and so forth. All this I apprehend,\nnot with a passive stare, but by the activity of my thinking which\nis set in motion. Through the thinking with which I now confront the\nother person, the percept of him becomes, as it were, psychically\ntransparent. As my thinking apprehends the percept, I am compelled to\njudge that what I perceive is really quite other than it appears to the\nouter senses. The sensuous appearance, in being what it immediately is,\nreveals something else which it is mediately. In presenting itself to\nme as a distinct object, it, at the same time, extinguishes itself\nas a mere sensuous appearance. But in thus extinguishing itself it\nreveals a character which, so long as it affects me, compels me as a\nthinking being to extinguish my own thinking and to put its thinking\nin the place of mine. Its thinking is then apprehended by my thinking\nas an experience like my own. Thus I have really perceived another's\nthinking. For the immediate percept, in extinguishing itself as\nsensuous appearance, is apprehended by my thinking. It is a profess\nwhich passes wholly in my consciousness and consists in this, that the\nother's thinking takes the place of my thinking. The self-extinction\nof the sensuous appearance actually abolishes the separation between\nthe spheres of the two consciousnesses. In my own consciousness this\nfusion manifests itself in that, so long as I experience the contents\nof the other's consciousness, I am aware of my own consciousness\nas little as I am aware of it in dreamless sleep. Just as my waking\nconsciousness is eliminated from the latter, so are the contents of\nmy own consciousness eliminated from my perception of the contents\nof another's consciousness. Two things tend to deceive us about\nthe true facts. The first is that, in perceiving another person, the\nextinction of the contents of one's own consciousness is replaced not,\nas in sleep, by unconsciousness, but by the contents of the other's\nconsciousness. The other is that my consciousness of my own self\noscillates so rapidly between extinction and recurrence, that these\nalternations usually escape observation. The whole problem is to be\nsolved, not through artificial construction of concepts, involving an\ninference from what is in consciousness to what always must transcend\nconsciousness, but through genuine experience of the connection between\nthinking and perceiving. The same remark applies to many other problems\nwhich appear in philosophical literature. Philosophers should seek\nthe road to unprejudiced spiritual observation, instead of hiding\nreality behind an artificial frontage of concepts.\n\nIn a monograph by Eduard von Hartmann on \"The Ultimate Problems of\nEpistemology and Metaphysics\" (in the Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Philosophie und\nphilosophische Kritik, Vol. 108, p. 55), my Philosophy of Spiritual\nActivity has been classed with the philosophical tendency which seeks\nto build upon an \"epistemological Monism.\" Eduard von Hartmann rejects\nthis position as untenable, for the following reasons. According to\nthe point of view maintained in his monograph, there are only three\npossible positions in the theory of knowledge. The first consists in\nremaining true to the na\u00efve point of view, which regards objects of\nsense-perception as real things existing outside the human mind. This,\nurges Von Hartmann, implies a lack of critical reflection. I fail\nto realise that with all my contents of consciousness I remain\nimprisoned in my own consciousness. I fail to perceive that I am\ndealing, not with a \"table-in-itself,\" but only with a phenomenon\nin my own consciousness. If I stop at this point of view, or if\nfor whatever reasons I return to it, I am a Na\u00efve Realist. But this\nwhole position is untenable, for it ignores that consciousness has no\nother objects than its own contents. The second position consists in\nappreciating this situation and confessing it to oneself. As a result,\nI become a Transcendental Idealist. As such, says Von Hartmann, I am\nobliged to deny that a \"thing-in-itself\" can ever appear in any way\nwithin the human mind. But, if developed with unflinching consistency,\nthis view ends in Absolute Illusionism. For the world which confronts\nme is now transformed into a mere sum of contents of consciousness,\nand, moreover, of contents of my private consciousness. The objects\nof other human minds, too, I am then compelled to conceive--absurdly\nenough--as present solely in my own consciousness. Hence, the only\ntenable position, according to Von Hartmann, is the third, viz.,\nTranscendental Realism. On this view, there are \"things-in-themselves,\"\nbut consciousness can have no dealings with them by way of immediate\nexperience. Existing beyond the sphere of human consciousness, they\ncause, in a way of which we remain unconscious, the appearance of\nobjects in consciousness. These \"things-in-themselves\" are known only\nby inference from the contents of consciousness, which are immediately\nexperienced but for that very reason, purely ideal. Eduard von\nHartmann maintains in the monograph cited above, that \"epistemological\nMonism\"--for such he takes my point of view to be--is bound to declare\nitself identical with one or other of the above three positions;\nand that its failure to do so is due only to its inconsistency in not\ndrawing the actual consequences of its presuppositions. The monograph\ngoes on to say: \"If we want to find out which epistemological position\na so-called Epistemological Monist occupies, all we have to do is\nto put to him certain questions and compel him to answer them. For,\nout of his own initiative, no Monist will condescend to state his\nviews on these points, and likewise he will seek to dodge in every\nway giving a straight answer to our questions, because every answer he\nmay give will betray that Epistemological Monism does not differ from\none or other of the three positions. Our questions are the following:\n(1) Are things continuous or intermittent in their existence? If the\nanswer is 'continuous,' we have before us some one of the forms of\nNa\u00efve Realism. If the answer is 'intermittent,' we have Transcendental\nIdealism. But if the answer is: 'They are, on the one hand, continuous,\nviz., as contents of the Absolute Mind, or as unconscious ideas,\nor as permanent possibilities of perception, but, on the other hand,\nintermittent, viz., as contents of finite consciousness,' we recognise\nTranscendental Realism. (2) When three persons are sitting at a table,\nhow many distinct tables are there? The Na\u00efve Realist answers 'one';\nthe Transcendental Idealist answers 'three'; but the Transcendental\nRealist answers 'four.' This last answer does, indeed, presuppose\nthat it is legitimate to group together in the single question,\n'How many tables?' things so unlike each other as the one table\nwhich is the 'thing-in-itself' and the three tables which are the\nobjects of perception in the three perceivers' minds. If this seems\ntoo great a licence to anyone, he will have to answer 'one and three,'\ninstead of 'four.' (3) When two persons are alone together in a room,\nhow many distinct persons are there? If you answer 'two'--you are a\nNa\u00efve Realist. If you answer 'four,' viz., in each of the two minds\none 'I' and one 'Other,' you are a Transcendental Idealist. If you\nanswer 'six,' viz., two persons as 'things-in-themselves' and four\npersons as ideal objects in the two minds, you are a Transcendental\nRealist. In order to show that Epistemological Monism is not one of\nthese three positions, we should have to give other answers than the\nabove to each of these three questions. But I cannot imagine what\nanswers these could be.\" The answers of the Philosophy of Spiritual\nActivity would have to be: (1) Whoever apprehends only what he\nperceives of a thing and mistakes these percepts for the reality of\nthe thing, is a Na\u00efve Realist. He does not realise that, strictly,\nhe ought to regard these perceptual contents as existing only so long\nas he is looking at the objects, so that he ought to conceive the\nobjects before him as intermittent. As soon, however, as it becomes\nclear to him that reality is to be met with only in the percepts\nwhich are organised by thinking, he attains to the insight that the\npercepts which appear as intermittent events, reveal themselves as\ncontinuously in existence as soon as they are interpreted by the\nconstructions of thought. Hence continuity of existence must be\npredicated of the contents of perception which living thought has\norganised. Only that part which is only perceived, not thought, would\nhave to be regarded as intermittent if--which is not the case--there\nwere such a part. (2) When three persons are sitting at a table,\nhow many distinct tables are there? There is only one table. But\nso long as the three persons stop short at their perceptual images,\nthey ought to say: \"These percepts are not the reality at all.\" As\nsoon as they pass on to the table as apprehended by thinking, there\nis revealed to them the one real table. They are then united with\ntheir three contents of consciousness in this one reality. (3) When\ntwo persons are alone together in a room, how many distinct persons\nare there? Most assuredly there are not six--not even in the sense\nof the Transcendental Realist's theory--but only two. Only, at first,\neach person has nothing but the unreal percept of himself and of the\nother person. There are four such percepts, the presence of which in\nthe minds of the two persons is the stimulus for the apprehension of\nreality by their thinking. In this activity of thinking each of the\ntwo persons transcends the sphere of his own consciousness. A living\nawareness of the consciousness of the other person as well as of his\nown arises in each. In these moments of living awareness the persons\nare as little imprisoned within their consciousness as they are in\nsleep. But at other moments consciousness of this identification\nwith the other returns, so that each person, in the experience of\nthinking, apprehends consciously both himself and the other person. I\nknow that a Transcendental Realist describes this view as a relapse\ninto Na\u00efve Realism. But, then, I have already pointed out in this\nbook that Na\u00efve Realism retains its justification for our thinking\nas we actually experience it. The Transcendental Realist ignores\nthe true situation in the process of cognition completely. He cuts\nhimself off from the facts by a tissue of concepts and entangles\nhimself in it. Moreover, the Monism which appears in the Philosophy\nof Spiritual Activity ought not to be labelled \"epistemological,\"\nbut, if an epithet is wanted, then a \"Monism of Thought.\" All this\nhas been misunderstood by Eduard von Hartmann. Ignoring all that\nis specific in the argumentation of the Philosophy of Spiritual\nActivity, he has charged me with having attempted to combine Hegel's\nUniversalistic Panlogism with Hume's Individualistic Phenomenalism\n(Zeitschrift f\u00fcr Philosophie, vol. 108, p. 71, note). But, in truth,\nthe Philosophy of Spiritual Activity has nothing whatever to do with\nthe two positions which it is accused of trying to combine. (This,\ntoo, is the reason why I could feel no interest in polemics against,\ne.g., the Epistemological Monism of Johannes Rehmke. The point of view\nof the Philosophy of Spiritual Activity is simply quite different from\nwhat Eduard von Hartmann and others call \"Epistemological Monism.\")\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX II\n\nREVISED INTRODUCTION TO \"PHILOSOPHY OF FREEDOM.\"\n\n\nThe following chapter reproduces, in all essentials, the pages\nwhich stood as a sort of \"Introduction\" in the first edition of this\nbook. Inasmuch as it rather reflects the mood out of which I composed\nthis book twenty-five years ago, than has any direct bearing on its\ncontents, I print it here as an \"Appendix.\" I do not want to omit it\naltogether, because the suggestion keeps cropping up that I want to\nsuppress some of my earlier writings on account of my later works on\nspiritual matters.\n\nOur age is one which is unwilling to seek truth anywhere but in the\ndepths of human nature. [62] Of the following two well-known paths\ndescribed by Schiller, it is the second which will to-day be found\nmost useful:\n\n\n    Wahrheit suchen wir beide, du aussen im Leben, ich innen\n    In dem Herzen, und so findet sie jeder gewiss.\n    Ist das Auge gesund, so begegnet es aussen dem Sch\u00f6pfer\n    Ist es das Herz, dann gewiss spiegelt es innen die Welt. [63]\n\n\nA truth which comes to us from without bears ever the stamp of\nuncertainty. Conviction attaches only to what appears as truth to\neach of us in our own hearts.\n\nTruth alone can give us confidence in developing our powers. He who\nis tortured by doubts finds his powers lamed. In a world the riddle\nof which baffles him, he can find no aim for his activity.\n\nWe no longer want to believe; we want to know. Belief demands the\nacceptance of truths which we do not wholly comprehend. But the\nindividuality which seeks to experience everything in the depths of\nits own being, is repelled by what it cannot understand. Only that\nknowledge will satisfy us which springs from the inner life of the\npersonality, and submits itself to no external norm.\n\nAgain, we do not want any knowledge which has encased itself once and\nfor all in hide-bound formulas, and which is preserved in Encyclop\u00e6dias\nvalid for all time. Each of us claims the right to start from the\nfacts that lie nearest to hand, from his own immediate experiences,\nand thence to ascend to a knowledge of the whole universe. We strive\nafter certainty in knowledge, but each in his own way.\n\nOur scientific theories, too, are no longer to be formulated as if we\nwere unconditionally compelled to accept them. None of us would wish to\ngive a scientific work a title like Fichte's A Pellucid Account for the\nGeneral Public concerning the Real Nature of the Newest Philosophy. An\nAttempt to Compel the Readers to Understand. Nowadays there is no\nattempt to compel anyone to understand. We claim no agreement from\nanyone whom a distinct individual need does not drive to a certain\nview. We do not seek nowadays to cram facts of knowledge even into\nthe immature human being, the child. We seek rather to develop his\nfaculties in such a way that his understanding may depend no longer on\nour compulsion, but on his will. I am under no illusion concerning the\ncharacteristics of the present age. I know how many flaunt a manner\nof life which lacks all individuality and follows only the prevailing\nfashion. But I know also that many of my contemporaries strive to order\ntheir lives in the direction of the principles I have indicated. To\nthem I would dedicate this book. It does not pretend to offer the\n\"only possible\" way to Truth, it only describes the path chosen by\none whose heart is set upon Truth.\n\nThe reader will be led at first into somewhat abstract regions,\nwhere thought must draw sharp outlines, if it is to reach secure\nconclusions. But he will also be led out of these arid concepts into\nconcrete life. I am fully convinced that one cannot do without soaring\ninto the ethereal realm of abstraction, if one's experience is to\npenetrate life in all directions. He who is limited to the pleasures\nof the senses misses the sweetest enjoyments of life. The Oriental\nsages make their disciples live for years a life of resignation and\nasceticism before they impart to them their own wisdom. The Western\nworld no longer demands pious exercises and ascetic practices as a\npreparation for science, but it does require a sincere willingness\nto withdraw oneself awhile from the immediate impressions of life,\nand to betake oneself into the realm of pure thought.\n\nThe spheres of life are many and for each there develops a special\nscience. But life itself is one, and the more the sciences strive to\npenetrate deeply into their separate spheres, the more they withdraw\nthemselves from the vision of the world as a living whole. There\nmust be one supreme science which seeks in the separate sciences the\nelements for leading men back once more to the fullness of life. The\nscientific specialist seeks in his studies to gain a knowledge of the\nworld and its workings. This book has a philosophical aim: science\nitself is here infused with the life of an organic whole. The special\nsciences are stages on the way to this all-inclusive science. A similar\nrelation is found in the arts. The composer in his work employs the\nrules of the theory of composition. This latter is an accumulation\nof principles, knowledge of which is a necessary presupposition for\ncomposing. In the act of composing, the rules of theory become the\nservants of life, of reality. In exactly the same way philosophy is\nan art. All genuine philosophers have been artists in concepts. Human\nideas have been the medium of their art, and scientific method their\nartistic technique. Abstract thinking thus gains concrete individual\nlife. Ideas turn into life-forces. We have no longer merely a knowledge\nabout things, but we have now made knowledge a real, self-determining\norganism. Our consciousness, alive and active, has risen beyond a\nmere passive reception of truths.\n\nHow philosophy, as an art, is related to freedom; what freedom is;\nand whether we do, or can, participate in it--these are the principal\nproblems of my book. All other scientific discussions are put in only\nbecause they ultimately throw light on these questions which are,\nin my opinion, the most intimate that concern mankind. These pages\noffer a \"Philosophy of Freedom.\"\n\nAll science would be nothing but the satisfaction of idle curiosity\ndid it not strive to enhance the existential value of human\npersonality. The true value of the sciences is seen only when we\nare shown the importance of their results for humanity. The final\naim of an individuality can never be the cultivation of any single\nfaculty, but only the development of all capacities which slumber\nwithin us. Knowledge has value only in so far as it contributes to\nthe all-round unfolding of the whole nature of man.\n\nThis book, therefore, does not conceive the relation between science\nand life in such a way that man must bow down before the world of\nideas and devote his powers to its service. On the contrary, it shows\nthat he takes possession of the world of ideas in order to use them\nfor his human aims, which transcend those of mere science.\n\nMan must confront ideas as master, lest he become their slave.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX III\n\nPREFACE TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION OF \"TRUTH AND SCIENCE\"\n\n\nContemporary philosophy suffers from a morbid belief in Kant. To\nhelp towards our emancipation from this belief is the aim of the\npresent essay. It would indeed be criminal to try and minimise the\ndebt which the development of German philosophy owes to Kant's\nimmortal work. But it is high time to acknowledge that the only\nway of laying the foundations for a truly satisfying view of the\nworld and of human life is to put ourselves in decisive opposition\nto the spirit of Kant. What is it that Kant has achieved? He has\nshown that the transcendent ground of the world which lies beyond\nthe data of our senses and the categories of our reason, and which\nhis predecessors sought to determine by means of empty concepts,\nis inaccessible to our knowledge. From this he concluded that all our\nscientific thinking must keep within the limits of possible experience,\nand is incapable of attaining to knowledge of the transcendent and\nultimate ground of the world, i.e., of the \"thing-in-itself.\" But\nwhat if this \"thing-in-itself,\" this whole transcendent ground of\nthe world, should be nothing but a fiction? It is easy to see that\nthis is precisely what it is. An instinct inseparable from human\nnature impels us to search for the innermost essence of things,\nfor their ultimate principles. It is the basis of all scientific\nenquiry. But, there is not the least reason to look for this ultimate\nground outside the world of our senses and of our spirit, unless a\nthorough and comprehensive examination of this world should reveal\nwithin it elements which point unmistakably to an external cause.\n\nThe present essay attempts to prove that all the principles which we\nneed in order to explain our world and make it intelligible, are within\nreach of our thought. Thus, the assumption of explanatory principles\nlying outside our world turns out to be the prejudice of an extinct\nphilosophy which lived on vain dogmatic fancies. This ought to have\nbeen Kant's conclusion, too, if he had really enquired into the powers\nof human thought. Instead, he demonstrated in the most complicated way\nthat the constitution of our cognitive faculties does not permit us\nto reach the ultimate principles which lie beyond our experience. But\nwe have no reason whatever for positing these principles in any such\nBeyond. Thus Kant has indeed refuted \"dogmatic\" philosophy, but he has\nput nothing in its place. Hence, all German philosophy which succeeded\nKant has evolved everywhere in opposition to him. Fichte, Schelling,\nHegel simply ignored the limits fixed by Kant for our knowledge and\nsought the ultimate principles, not beyond, but within, the world\naccessible to human reason. Even Schopenhauer, though he does declare\nthe conclusions of Kant's Critique of Pure Reason to be eternal and\nirrefutable truths, cannot avoid seeking knowledge of the ultimate\ngrounds of the world along paths widely divergent from those of his\nmaster. But the fatal mistake of all these thinkers was that they\nsought knowledge of ultimate truths, without having laid the foundation\nfor such an enterprise in a preliminary investigation of the nature\nof knowledge itself. Hence, the proud intellectual edifices erected by\nFichte, Schelling and Hegel have no foundation to rest on. The lack of\nsuch foundations reacts most unfavourably upon the arguments of these\nthinkers. Ignorant of the importance of the world of pure ideas and\nof its relation to the realm of sense-perception, they built error\nupon error, one-sidedness upon one-sidedness. No wonder that their\nover-bold systems proved unable to withstand the storms of an age\nwhich recked nothing of philosophy. No wonder that many good things\nin these systems were pitilessly swept away along with the errors.\n\nTo remedy the defect which has just been indicated is the purpose of\nthe following investigations. They will not imitate Kant by explaining\nwhat our minds can not know: their aim is to show what our minds\ncan know.\n\nThe outcome of these investigations is that truth is not, as\nthe current view has it, an ideal reproduction of a some real\nobject, but a free product of the human spirit, which would not\nexist anywhere at all unless we ourselves produced it. It is not\nthe task of knowledge to reproduce in conceptual form something\nalready existing independently. Its task is to create a wholly new\nrealm which, united with the world of sense-data, ends by yielding\nus reality in the full sense. In this way, man's supreme activity,\nthe creative productivity of his spirit, finds its organic place\nin the universal world-process. Without this activity it would be\nimpossible to conceive the world-process as a totality complete in\nitself. Man does not confront the world-process as a passive spectator\nwho merely copies in his mind the events which occur, without his\nparticipation, in the cosmos without. He is an active co-creator in\nthe world-process, and his knowledge is the most perfect member of\nthe organism of the universe.\n\nThis view carries with it an important consequence for our conduct,\nfor our moral ideals. These, too, must be regarded, not as copies of\nan external standard, but as rooted within us. Similarly, we refuse\nto look upon our moral laws as the behests of any power outside\nus. We know no \"categorical imperative\" which, like a voice from the\nBeyond, prescribes to us what to do or to leave undone. Our moral\nideals are our own free creations. All we have to do is to carry out\nwhat we prescribe to ourselves as the norm of our conduct. Thus, the\nconcept of truth as a free act leads to a theory of morals based on\nthe concept of a perfectly free personality.\n\nThese theses, of course, are valid only for that part of our\nconduct the laws of which our thinking penetrates with complete\ncomprehension. So long as the laws of our conduct are merely natural\nmotives or remain obscure to our conceptual thinking, it may be\npossible from a higher spiritual level to perceive how far they are\nfounded in our individuality, but we ourselves experience them as\ninfluencing us from without, as compelling us to action. Every time\nthat we succeed in penetrating such a motive with clear understanding,\nwe make a fresh conquest in the realm of freedom.\n\nThe relation of these views to the theory of Eduard von Hartmann,\nwho is the most significant figure in contemporary philosophy, will\nbe made clear to the reader in detail in the course of this essay,\nespecially as regards the problem of knowledge.\n\nA prelude to a Philosophy of Spiritual Activity--this is what the\npresent essay offers. That philosophy itself, completely worked out,\nwill shortly follow.\n\nThe ultimate aim of all science is to increase the value of existence\nfor human personality. Whoever does not devote himself to science\nwith this aim in view is merely modelling himself in his own work upon\nsome master. If he \"researches,\" it is merely because that happens to\nbe what he has been taught to do. But not for him is the title of a\n\"free thinker.\"\n\nThe sciences are seen in their true value only when philosophy explains\nthe human significance of their results. To make a contribution to such\nan explanation was my aim. But, perhaps, our present-day science scorns\nall philosophical vindication! If so, two things are certain. One\nis that this essay of mine is superfluous. The other is that modern\nthinkers are lost in the wood and do not know what they want.\n\nIn concluding this Preface, I cannot omit a personal observation. Up\nto now I have expounded all my philosophical views on the basis of\nGoethe's world-view, into which I was first introduced by my dear\nand revered teacher, Karl Julius Schr\u00f6er, who to me stands in the\nvery forefront of Goethe-students, because his gaze is ever focussed\nbeyond the particular upon the universal Ideas.\n\nBut, with this essay I hope to have shown that the edifice of my\nthought is a whole which has its foundations in itself and which\ndoes not need to be derived from Goethe's world-view. My theories,\nas they are here set forth and as they will presently be amplified\nin the Philosophy of Spiritual Activity, have grown up in the course\nof many years. Nothing but a deep sense of gratitude leads me to\nadd that the affectionate sympathy of the Specht family in Vienna,\nduring the period when I was the tutor of its children, provided me\nwith an environment, than which I could not have wished a better, for\nthe development of my ideas. In the same spirit, I would add, further,\nthat I owe to the stimulating conversations with my very dear friend,\nMiss Rosa Mayreder, of Vienna, the mood which I needed for putting into\nfinal form many of the thoughts which I have sketched provisionally as\ngerms of my Philosophy of Spiritual Activity. Her own literary efforts,\nwhich express the sensitive and high-minded nature of a true artist,\nare likely before long to be presented to the public.\n\n\nVienna, December, 1891.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX IV\n\nINTRODUCTION TO ORIGINAL EDITION OF \"TRUTH AND SCIENCE\"\n\n\nThe aim of the following discussions is to reduce the act of cognition,\nby analysis, to its ultimate elements and thus to discover a correct\nformulation of the problem of knowledge and a way to its solution. They\ncriticise all theories of knowledge which are based on Kant's line\nof thought, in order to show that along this road no solution of\nthe problem of knowledge can ever be found. It is, however, due to\nthe fundamental spade-work which Volkelt has done in his thorough\nexamination of the concept of experience, [64] to acknowledge that\nwithout his preliminary labours the precise determination, which\nI have here attempted of the concept of the Given would have been\nvery much more difficult. However, we are cherishing the hope that we\nhave laid the foundations for our emancipation from the Subjectivism\nwhich attaches to all theories of knowledge that start from Kant. We\nbelieve ourselves to have achieved this emancipation through showing\nthat the subjective form, in which the picture of the world presents\nitself to the act of cognition, prior to its elaboration by science,\nis nothing but a necessary stage of transition which is overcome in\nthe very process of knowledge itself. For us, experience, so-called,\nwhich Positivism and Neo-Kantianism would like to represent as the\nonly thing which is certain, is precisely the most subjective of\nall. In demonstrating this, we also show that Objective Idealism is\nthe inevitable conclusion of a theory of knowledge which understands\nitself. It differs from the metaphysical and absolute Idealism of Hegel\nin this, that it seeks in the subject of knowledge the ground for the\ndiremption of reality into given existence and concept, and that it\nlooks for the reconciliation of this divorce, not in an objective\nworld-dialectic, but in the subjective process of cognition. The\npresent writer has already once before advocated this point of view\nin print, viz., in the Outlines of a Theory of Knowledge (Berlin and\nStuttgart, 1885). However, that book differs essentially in method\nfrom the present essay, and it also lacks the analytic reduction of\nknowledge to its ultimate elements.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n[1] Two souls, alas! reside within my breast,\n    And each withdraws from, and repels, its brother.\n    One with tenacious organs holds in love\n    And clinging lust the world in its embraces;\n    The other strongly sweeps, this dust above,\n    Into the high ancestral spaces.\n\n                                    Faust, Part I, Scene 2.\n\n    (Bayard Taylor's translation.)\n\n[2] Knowledge is transcendental when it is aware that nothing can\nbe asserted directly about the thing-in-itself but makes indirect\ninferences from the subjective which is known to the unknown which\nlies beyond the subjective (transcendental). The thing-in-itself is,\naccording to this view, beyond the sphere of the world of immediate\nexperience; in other words, it is transcendent. Our world can, however,\nbe transcendentally related to the transcendent. Hartmann's theory is\ncalled Realism because it proceeds from the subjective, the mental,\nto the transcendent, the real.\n\n[3] The way in which the above view has influenced psychology,\nphysiology, etc., in various directions has been set forth by the\nauthor in works published after this book. Here he is concerned only\nwith characterising the results of an open-minded study of thinking\nitself.\n\n[4] The passage from page 146 down to this point has been added,\nor rewritten, for the present Revised Edition. (1918).\n\n[5] A complete catalogue of the principles of morality (from the\npoint of view of Metaphysical Realism) may be found in Eduard von\nHartmann's Ph\u00e4nomenologie des sittlichen Bewusstseins.\n\n[6] Translation by Abbott, Kant's Theory of Ethics, p. 180; Critique\nof Pure Practical Reason, chap. iii.\n\n[7] For the manner in which I have here spoken of \"Materialism,\"\nand for the justification of so speaking of it, see the Addition at\nthe end of this chapter.\n\n[8] Only a superficial critic will find in the use of the word\n\"faculty,\" in this and other passages, a relapse into the old-fashioned\ndoctrine of faculties of the soul.\n\n[9] When Paulsen, p. 15 of the book mentioned above, says: \"Different\nnatural endowments and different conditions of life demand both a\ndifferent bodily and also a different mental and moral diet,\" he\nis very close to the correct view, but yet he misses the decisive\npoint. In so far as I am an individual, I need no diet. Dietetic\nmeans the art of bringing a particular specimen into harmony with the\nuniversal laws of the genus. But as an individual I am not a specimen\nof a genus.\n\n[10] The Editor would call the reader's attention to the fact that\nthis book was written in 1894. For many years Dr. Steiner's efforts\nhave been chiefly concentrated in upholding the Divinity of Christ\nconsistently with the broader lines of the Christian Churches.\n\n[11] We are entitled to speak of thoughts (ethical ideas) as objects\nof observation. For, although the products of thinking do not enter\nthe field of observation, so long as the thinking goes on, they may\nwell become objects of observation subsequently. In this way we have\ngained our characterisation of action.\n\n[12] Those who want to settle by calculation whether the sum total of\npleasure or that of pain is bigger, ignore that they are subjecting\nto calculation something which is nowhere experienced. Feeling does\nnot calculate, and what matters for the real valuing of life is what\nwe really experience, not what results from an imaginary calculation.\n\n[13] We disregard here the case where excessive increase of pleasure\nturns pleasure into pain.\n\n[14] Immediately upon the publication of this book (1894), critics\nobjected to the above arguments that, even now, within the generic\ncharacter of her sex, a woman is able to shape her life individually,\njust as she pleases, and far more freely than a man who is already\nde-individualised, first by the school, and later by war and\nprofession. I am aware that this objection will be urged to-day, even\nmore strongly. None the less, I feel bound to let my sentences stand,\nin the hope that there are readers who appreciate how violently such\nan objection runs counter to the concept of freedom advocated in this\nbook, and who will interpret my sentences above by another standard\nthan that of man's loss of individuality through school and profession.\n\n[15] The Preface and Introduction to the original edition of \"Truth\nand Science\" are printed as Appendix III and Appendix IV at the end\nof this volume.\n\n[16] l.c., p. 20.\n\n[17] cf. Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, Intr. to 2nd edit., Section vi.\n\n[18] Prolegomena, Section v.\n\n[19] Critique of Pure Reason, Intr., Section iv.\n\n[20] cf. his Analyse der Wirklichkeit, Gedanken und Tatsachen.\n\n[21] \"Possible\" here means merely conceivable.\n\n[22] cf. Die Welt als Wahrnehmung und Begriff, pp. 161 ff.\n\n[23] This attempt, by the way, is one which the objections of Robert\nZimmermann (\u00dcber Kant's mathematisches Vorurteil und dessen Folgen)\nshow to be, if not wholly mistaken, at least highly questionable.\n\n[24] Critique of Pure Reason, Intr. to 2nd edit., Section ii.\n\n[25] cf. Kant's Theorie der Erfahrung, pp. 90 ff.\n\n[26] l.c., Section v.\n\n[27] cf. Kant's Theorie der Erfahrung, pp. 90 ff.\n\n[28] cf. Die Grunds\u00e4tze der reinen Erkenntnistheorie in der Kantischen\nPhilosophie, p. 76.\n\n[29] l.c., p. 21.\n\n[30] Zur Analyse der Wirklichkeit, pp. 211 ff.\n\n[31] Darstellung der Kantischen Erkenntnistheorie, p. 14.\n\n[32] Vierteljahrsschrift f\u00fcr Wissenschaftliche Philosophie, 1877,\np. 239.\n\n[33] System der Logik, 3rd edit., pp. 380 ff.\n\n[34] Kritische Grundlagen des Transcendentalen Realismus, pp. 142-172.\n\n[35] Geschichte der Neueren Philosophie, Vol. v., p. 60. Volkelt\nis mistaken about Fischer when he says (Kant's Erkenntnistheorie,\np. 198, n.) that \"it is not clear from Fischer's account whether,\nin his opinion, Kant takes for granted only the psychological fact of\nthe occurrence of universal and necessary judgments, but also their\nobjective validity and truth.\" For, in the passage referred to above,\nFischer says that the chief difficulty of the Critique of Pure Reason\nis to be found in the fact that \"its fundamental positions rest on\ncertain presuppositions\" which \"have to be granted if the rest is to\nbe valid.\" These presuppositions consist for Fischer, too, in this,\nthat \"first the fact of knowledge is affirmed,\" and then analysis\nreveals the cognitive faculties \"by means of which that fact itself\nis explained.\"\n\n[36] How far our own epistemological discussions conform to this\nmethod, will be shown in Section iv, \"The Starting-points of the\nTheory of Knowledge.\"\n\n[37] l.c., Preface, p. x.\n\n[38] Zur Analyse der Wirklichkeit (Strassburg, 1876), p. 28.\n\n[39] Kant's Erkenntnistheorie, Section i.\n\n[40] A. Dorner, Das menschliche Erkennen (Berlin, 1887).\n\n[41] Rehmke, l.c.\n\n[42] Die Lehre vom Wissen (Berlin, 1868).\n\n[43] Die Grundfragen der Erkenntnistheorie (Mainz, 1887) p. 385.\n\n[44] System der kritischen Philosophie, I. Teil, p. 257.\n\n[45] Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie, p. 37.\n\n[46] Philosophische Monatshefte, Vol. xxvi (1890), p. 390.\n\n[47] Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie, p. 1.\n\n[48] By \"concept\" I mean a rule for the synthesis of the disconnected\ndata of perception into a unity. Causality, e.g., is a \"concept.\" By\n\"idea\" I mean nothing but a concept of richer connotation. \"Organism,\"\ntaken quite generally, is an example of an \"idea.\"\n\n[49] It ought not to be necessary to say that the term \"centre,\"\nhere, is not intended to affirm a theory concerning the nature of\nconsciousness, but is used merely as a shorthand expression for the\ntotal physiognomy of consciousness.\n\n[50] Fichte's S\u00e4mtliche Werke, Vol. I, p. 71.\n\n[51] l.c., Vol. I, p. 97.\n\n[52] l.c., Vol. I, p. 91.\n\n[53] l.c., Vol. I, p. 178.\n\n[54] l.c., Vol. I, p. 91.\n\n[55] Geschichte der Philosophie, p. 605.\n\n[56] Fichte, S\u00e4mtliche Werke, Vol. I, p. 94.\n\n[57] l.c., Vol. I, p. 98.\n\n[58] l.c., Vol. I, p. 422.\n\n[59] Delivered in the autumn of 1813 at the University of Berlin. See\nNachgelassene Werke, Vol. I, p. 4.\n\n[60] l.c., Vol. I, p. 16.\n\n[61] cf. his Christliche Dogmatik, 2nd edit., 1884-5. The\nepistemological arguments are in Vol. I. An exhaustive discussion\nof his point of view has been furnished by E. von Hartmann. See his\nKritische Wanderungen durch die Philosophie der Gegenwart, pp. 200 ff.\n\n[62] Only the very first opening sentences (in the first edition) of\nthis argument have been altogether omitted here, because they seem\nto me to-day wholly irrelevant. But the rest of the chapter seems\nto me even to day relevant and necessary, in spite, nay, because,\nof the scientific bias of contemporary thought.\n\n[63] Truth seek we both--Thou in the life without thee and around;\n     I in the heart within. By both can Truth alike be found.\n     The healthy eye can through the world the great Creator track;\n     The healthy heart is but the glass which gives Creation back.\n\n                                                                 Bulwer.\n\n[64] Erfahrung und Denken, Kritische Grundlegung der Erkenntnistheorie,\nvon Johannes Volkelt (Hamburg und Leipzig, 1886).","title":"The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity: A Modern Philosophy of Life Developed by Scientific Methods","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":89997}