TRUTH AND KNOWLEDGE

Dedicated to Dr. Eduard von Hartmann

Rudolf Steiner's Inaugural Dissertation for his doctoral degree before
the Faculty of Philosophy at the University of Rostock (Defense,
beginning of May, 1891; Promotion, October 26, 1891) was titled Die
Grundfrageder Erhenntnistheorie mit besonderer Rucksichtauf Fichtes
Wissenschaftslehre, usw, The Fundamentals of a Theory of Cognition
with Special Reference to Fichte's Scientific Teaching. When the
thesis was published in book form, as it appears here in English
translation, a Foreword and one chapter were added to the original by
Rudolf Steiner. These latter are included in the present translation.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Rudolf Steiner's Wahrheit und Wissenschaft was published
by Hermann Weissbach in Weimar, 1892 in a first edition
of 1,000 copies.

A second edition of 5,000 copies was published by the
Philosophisch-Anthroposophischer Verlag am Goetheanum,
Dornach-bei-Basel, Switzerland, 1925.

A third edition of 4,000 copies was published in Freiburg
i. Br., Germany, in 1948.

The fourth edition, from which the present translation
was made, was issued by the Verlag der Rudolf Steiner-
achlassverwaltung, Dornach-bei-Basel, Switzerland, 1958,
and comprised 4,000 copies.

Thus, the four editions of Wahrheit und Wissenschaft
publishcd between 1892 and 1958 totaled some 14,000 copies.

In March, 1921 the first English translation of this work
appeared in London under the title, Truth and Science,
translated by Prof. R. F. Alfred Hoernle and edited by
Harry Collison.

 

Part ii: Contents

TRUTH AND KNOWLEDGE

CONTENTS

I. Preface
Ia. Preface to the First, Second, and Third Editions
II. Introduction
III. Preliminary Remarks
IV. Kant's Basic Epistemological Question
V. Epistemology Since Kant
VI. The Starting Point of Epistemology
VII. Cognition and Reality
VIII. Epistemology Free of Assumptions and Fichte's Science of Knowledge
IX. Epistemological Conclusion
X. Practical Conclusion

 

Part I: Preface

PREFACE

Present day philosophy suffers from an unhealthy faith in Kant. This
essay is intended to be a contribution toward overcoming this. It
would be wrong to belittle this man's lasting contributions toward the
development of German philosophy and science. But the time has come to
recognize that the foundation for a truly satisfying view of the world
and of life can be laid only by adopting a position which contrasts
strongly with Kant's. What did he achieve? He showed that the
foundation of things Iying beyond the world of our senses and our
reason, and which his predecessors sought to find by means of
stereotyped concepts, is inaccessible to our faculty of knowledge.
From this he concluded that our scientific efforts must be limited to
what is within reach of experience, and that we cannot attain
knowledge of the supersensible foundation, of the "thing-in-itself."
But suppose the "thing-in-itself" and a transcendental ultimate
foundation of things are nothing but illusions! It is easy to see that
this is the case. It is an instinctive urge, inseparable from human
nature, to search for the fundamental nature of things and their
ultimate principles. This is the basis of all scientific activity.

There is, however, not the slightest reason for seeking the foundation
of things outside the given physical and spiritual world, as long as a
comprehensive investigation of this world does not lead to the
discovery of elements within it that clearly point to an influence
coming from beyond it.

The aim of this essay is to show that everything necessary to explain
and account for the world is within the reach of our thinking. The
assumption that there are principles which belong to our world, but
Iying outside it, is revealed as the prejudice of an out-dated
philosophy living in vain and illusory dogmas. Kant himself would have
come to this conclusion had he really investigated the powers inherent
in our thinking. Instead of this, he shows in the most complicated way
that we cannot reach the ultimate principles existing beyond our
direct experience, because of the way our faculty of knowledge
functions. There is, however, no reason for transferring these
principles into another world. Kant did indeed refute "dogmatic"
philosophy, but he put nothing in its place. This is why Kant was
opposed by the German philosophy which followed. Fichte, Schelling and
Hegel did not worry in the least about the limits to cognition erected
by Kant, but sought the ultimate principles within the world
accessible to human reason. Even Schopenhauer, though he maintained
that the conclusions of Kant's criticism of reason were eternal and
irrefutable truths, found himself compelled to search for the ultimate
cause along paths very different from those of Kant. The mistake of
these thinkers was that they sought knowledge of the highest truths
without having first laid a foundation by investigating the nature of
knowledge itself. This is why the imposing edifice of thought erected
by Fichte, Schelling and Hegel stands there, so to speak, without
foundations. This had a bad effect on the direction taken by the
thought of these philosophers. Because they did not understand the
significance of the sphere of pure ideas and its relationship to the
realm of sense-perceptions, they added mistake to mistake,
one-sidedness to one-sidedness. It is no wonder that their all too
daring systems could not withstand the fierce opposition of an epoch
so ill-disposed toward philosophy; consequently, along with the errors
much of real value in their thought was mercilessly swept away.

The aim of the following inquiry is to remedy the lack described
above. Unlike Kant, the purpose here is not to show what our faculty
of knowledge cannot do, but rather to show what it is really able to
achieve.

The outcome of what follows is that truth is not, as is usually
assumed, an ideal reflection of something real, but is a product of
the human spirit, created by an activity which is f ree; this product
would exist nowhere if we did not create it ourselves. The object of
knowledge is not to repeat in conceptual form something which already
exists, but rather to create a completely new sphere, which when
combined with the world given to our senses constitutes complete
reality. Thus man's highest activity, his spiritual creativeness, is
an organic part of the universal world-process. The world-process
should not be considered a complete, enclosed totality without this
activity. Man is not a passive onlooker in relation to evolution,
merely repeating in mental pictures cosmic events taking place without
his participation; he is the active co-creator of the world-process,
and cognition is the most perfect link in the organism of the
universe.

This insight has the most significant consequences for the laws that
underlie our deeds, that is, our moral ideals; these, too, are to be
considered not as copies of something existing outside us, but as
being present solely within us. This also means rejecting the
"categorical imperative," an external power whose commandments we have
to accept as moral laws, comparable to a voice from the Beyond that
tells us what to do or leave undone. Our moral ideals are our own free
creations. We have to fulfill only what we ourselves lay down as our
standard of conduct. Thus the insight that truth is the outcome of a
free deed also establishes a philosophy of morality, the foundation of
which is the completely free personality.

This, of course, is valid only when our power of thinking
penetrates -- with complete insight -- into the motivating impulses of our
deeds. As long as we are not clear about the reasons -- either natural or
conceptual -- for our conduct, we shall experience our motives as
something compelling us from outside, even though someone on a higher
level of spiritual development could recognize the extent to which our
motives originated within our own individuality. Every time we succeed
in penetrating a motive with clear understanding, we win a victory in
the realm of freedom.

The reader will come to see how this view -- especially in its
epistemological aspects -- is related to that of the most significant
philosophical work of our time, the world-view of Eduard von Hartmann.

This essay constitutes a prologue to a Philosophy of Freedom (The
Philosophy of Spiritual Activity), a work which will appear shortly.

Clearly, the ultimate goal of all knowledge is to enhance the value of
human existence. He who does not consider this to be his ultimate
goal, only works as he learned from those who taught him; he
"investigates" because that happens to be what he has learned to do. He
can never be called "an independent thinker."

The true value of learning lies in the philosophical demonstration of
the significance of its results for humanity. It is my aim to
contribute to this. But perhaps modern science does not ask for
justification! If so, two things are certain: first, that I shall have
written a superfluous work; second, that modern scholars are striving
in vain, and do not know their own aims.

In concluding this preface, I cannot omit a personal remark. Until
now, I have always presented my philosophical views in connection with
Goethe's world-view. I was first introduced to this by my revered
teacher, Karl Julius Schroer who, in my view, reached such heights as
a scholar of Goethe's work because he always looked beyond the
particular to the Idea.

In this work, however, I hope to have shown that the edifice of my
thought is a whole that rests upon its own foundation, and need not be
derived from Goethe's world-view. My thoughts, as here set forth, and
as they will be further amplified in The Philosophy of Spiritual
Activity, have been developed over many years. And it is with a
feeling of deep gratitude that I here acknowledge how the friendliness
of the Specht family in Vienna, while I was engaged in the education
of their children, provided me with an ideal environment for
developing these ideas; to this should be added that I owe the final
shape of many thoughts now to be found in my "Philosophy of Spiritual
Activity" to the stimulating talks with my deeply appreciated friend,
Rosa Mayreder in Vienna; her own literary works, which spring from a
sensitive, noble, artistic nature, presumably will soon be published.

Written in Vienna in the beginning of December 1891.

Dr. Rudolf Steiner

 

Part II: Introduction

INTRODUCTION

The object of the following discussion is to analyze the act of
cognition and reduce it to its fundamental elements, in order to
enable us to formulate the problem of knowledge correctly and to
indicate a way to its solution. The discussion shows, through critical
analysis, that no theory of knowledge based on Kant's line of thought
can lead to a solution of the problems involved. However, it must be
acknowledged that Volkelt's work, with its thorough examination of the
concept of "experience" provided a foundation without which my attempt
to define precisely the concept of the "given" would have been very
much more difficult. It is hoped in this essay to lay a foundation for
overcoming the subjectivism inherent in all theories of knowledge
based on Kant's philosophy. Indeed, I believe I have achieved this by
showing that the subjective form in which the picture of the world
presents itself to us in the act of cognition, prior to any scientific
explanation of it, is merely a necessary transitional stage which is
overcome in the very process of knowledge. In fact the experience
which positivism and neo-Kantianism advance as the one and only
certainty is just the most subjective one of all. By showing this, the
foundation is also laid for objective idealism, which is a necessary
consequence of a properly understood theory of knowledge. This
objective idealism differs from Hegel's metaphysical, absolute
idealism, in that it seeks the reason for the division of reality into
given existence and concept in the cognizing subject itself; and holds
that this division is resolved, not in an objective world-dialectic
but in the subjective process of cognition. I have already advanced
this viewpoint in An Outline of a Theory of Knowledge, 1885, but my
method of inquiry was a different one, nor did I analyze the basic
elements in the act of cognition as will be done here.

A list of the more recent literary works which are relevant is given
below. It includes not only those works which have a direct bearing on
this essay, but also all those which deal with related problems. No
specific reference is made to the works of the earlier classical
philosophers.

The following are concerned with the theory of cognition in general:

R. Avenarius, Philosophie als Denken der Welt gemass dem
Prinzip des kleinsten Kraftsmasses, usw., (Philosophy
as World-Thinking According to the Principle of the
Smallest Energy-Mass, etc.) Leipzig, 1876.

Kritik, der reinen Erfahrung (Criticism of Pure
Experience), Vol. I, Leipzig, 1888.

J. F. A. Bahnsen, Der Widerspruch im Wissen und Wesen
der Welt, (The Contradictions in Knowledge and Essense
of the World) Vol. I, Leipzig, 1882.

J. Baumann, Philosophie als Orientierung uber die Welt
(Philosophy as Orientation about the World) Leipzig, 1872.

J. S. Beck, Einzig moglicher Standpunkt, aus welchem
die kritische Philosophie beurteilt werden muss (The
Only Correct Point of View from which Critical
Philosophy Should be Judged) Riga, 1796.

Friedrich Ed. Benecke, System der Metaphysik und
Religionsphilosophie, usw., (System of Metaphysics and
Philosophy of Religion) Berlin, 1839.

Julius Bergmann, Sein und Erkennen, usw., (Existence and
Cognition, etc.) Berlin, 1880.

A. E. Biedermann, Christliche Dogmatik (Christian
Dogmatics), 2nd Edition, Berlin, 1884-5, Vol. I, pp. 51-173.

H. Cohen, Kants Theorie der Erfahrung (Kant's Theory of
Experience) Berlin, 1871.

P. Deussen, Die Elemente der Metaphysik (The Elements
of Metaphysics), 2nd Edition, Leipzig, 1890.

W. Dilthey, Einleitung in die Geisteswissenschaften,
usw., (Introduction to the Spiritual Sciences, etc.)
Leipzig, 1883. -Especially the introductory chapters
dealing with the interrelation of the theory of cognition
and the other sciences. -Further references in works by the
same author:

Beitrage zur Losung der Frage von Ursprung unseres
Glaubens an die Realitat der Aussenwelt und seinem
Recht; Sitzungsberichte der Kgl. Preuss. Akademic der
Wissenschaften zu Berlin (Contributions to the Solution
of Our Belief in the Reality of the Outer World and its
Justification. Reports of Meetings of the Royal Prussian
Academy of Sciences in Berlin), Berlin, 1890, p. 977.

A. Dorner, Das menschliche Erkennen usw., (Human
Cognition) Berlin, 1887.

E. Dreher, Ueber Wahrnehmung und Denken (On
Perception and Thinking), Berlin, 1878.

G. Engel, Sein und Denken, (Existence and Thinking)
Berlin, 1889.

W. Enoch, Der Begriff der Wahrnehmung (The Concept
of Perception), Hamburg, 1890.

B. Erdmann, Kants Kriticismus in der esten und zweiten
Auflage seiner Kritik der reinen Vernunft, (Kant's
Criticism in the First and Second Editions of his Critique
of Pure Reason) Leipzig, 1878.

F. v. Feldegg, Das Gefuhl als Fundament der Weltordnung (Feeling as
Fundament of Universal Order),
Vienna, 1890.

E. L. Fischer, Die Grundfragen der Erkenntnistheorie
(The Basic Questions of the Theory of Cognition), Mainz,
1887

K. Fischer, System der Logik und Metaphysik oder
Wissenschaftslehre (System of Logic and Metaphysics,
or Scientific Theory), 2nd Edition, Heidelberg, 1865.
Geschichte der neueren Philosophie (History of More
Recent Philosophy), Mannheim, 1860, especially the
parts concerning Kant.

A. Ganser, Die Wahrheit, (Truth), Graz, 1890.

C. Goring, System der kritischen Philosophie, (System of
Critical Philosophy), Leipzig, 1874.

Ueber den Begriff der Erfahrung (On the Concept of
Experience), In Verteiljahrsschrift fur wissenschaftliche
Philosophie (Quarterly for Scientific Philosophy),
Leipzig, 1st Year, 1877, p. 384.

E. Grimm, Zur Geschichte des Erkenntnisproblems, usw.,
(Contribution to the History of the Theory of Cognition).
Leipzig, 1890.

F. Grung, Das Problem der Gewissheit, (The Problem of
Certainty), Heidelberg, 1886.

R. Hamerling, Die Atomistik des Willens, (The Atomic
Theory of Will), Hamburg, 1891.

F. Harms, Die Philosophie seit Kant (Philosophy through
Kant), Berlin, 1876.

E. v. Hartmann, Kritische Grundlegung des
transzendentalen Realismus (Critical Establishment of
transcendental Realism), 2nd Edition Berlin, 1875.

J. H. v. Kirchmanns erkenntnistheoretischer Realismus,
(J. H. v. Kirchmann's Cognitional-Theoretical Realism),
Berlin, 1875.

Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie, usw., (The
Fundamental Problem of a Theory of Cognition),
Leipzig, 889.

Kritische Wanderungen durch die Philosophie der
Gegenwart, (Critical Survey of Contemporary
Philosophy), Leipzig, 1889.

H. L. F. v. Helmholtz, Die Tatsachen in der
Wahrnehmung. (The Facts of Perception), Berlin, 1879.

G. Heymans, Die Gesetze und Elemente des
wissenschaftlichen Denkens (The Laws and Elements of
Scientific Thinking), Leyden, 1890.

A. Holder, Darstellung der Kantischen Erkenntnistheorie
(A Presentation of Kant's Theory of Cognition),
Tubingen, 1874.

A. Horwicz, Analyse des Denkens, usw., (Analysis of
Thinking), Halle, 1875.

F. H. Jacobi, David Hume uber den Glauben oder
Idealismus und Realismus, (David Hume on Faith, or
Idealism and Realism), Breslau, 1787.

M. Kappes, Der "Common Sense" als Prinzip der
Gewissheit in der Philosophie des Schotten Thomas
Reid ("Common Sense" as Principle of Certainty in the
Philosophy of the Scotsman, Thomas Reid), Munich, 1890.

M. Kauffmann, Fundamente der Erkenntnistheorie und
Wissenschaftslehre (Foundations of a Theory of
Cognition and Scientific Theory), Leipzig, 1890.

B. Kerry, System einer Theorie der Grenzgebiete (System
of a Theory of Border-Areas), Vienna, 1890.

J. H. v. Kirchmann, Die Lehre vom Wissen als Einleitung
in das Studium philosophischer Werke (The Theory of
Knowledge as Introduction to the Study of Philosophical
Works), Berlin, 1868.

E. Laas, Die Kausalitat des Ich (The Causality of the I),
Vierteljahrsschrift fur wissenschaftliche Philosophie
(Quarterly for Scientific Philosophy), Leipzig, 4th Year,
1880, p. ff., 185ff.,311ff.

Idealismus und Positivismus (Idealism and Positivism),
Berlin, 1879.

F. A. Lange, Geschichte des Materialismus (History of
Materialism), Iserlohn, 1873-75.

A. v. Leclair, Beitrage zu einer monistischen
Erkenntnistheorie (Studies for a Monistic Theory of
Cognition), Breslau, 1882.

Das kategorische Geprage des Denkens (The Categorical
Mark of Thinking) Vierteljahrsschrift fur wissenschaftliche
Philosophie (Quarterly for Scientific Philosophy), Leipzig,
7th Year, 1883, p. 257 ff.

O. Liebmann, Kant und die Epigonen, (Kant and the
Epigones) Stuttgart, 1865.

Zur Analysis der Wirklichkeit (Contribution to the
Analysis of Reality), Strassburg, 1880.

Gedanken und Tatsachen (Thoughts and Facts),
Strassburg, 1882.

Die Klimax der Theorien (The Climax of the Theories),
Strassburg, 1884.

Th. Lipps, Grundtatsachen des Seelenlebens, (The
Fundamental Facts of Soul Life) Bonn, 1883.

H. R. Lotze, System der Philosophie, I Teil: Logik
(System of Philosophy, Part I: Logic), Leipzig, 1874.

J. V. Mayer, Vom Erkennen (Concerning Cognition),
Freiburg i. Br., 1885.

A. Meinong, Hume-Studien (Essays on Hume), Vienna,
1877.

J. St. Mill, System der induktiven und deduktiven Logik
(System of Inductive and Deductive Logic), 1843;
German translation, Braunschweig, 1849.

W Muntz, Die Grundlagen der Kantschen
Erkenntnistheorie (Foundation of Kant's Theory of
Knowledge), 2nd Edition, Breslau, 1885.

G. Neudecker, Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie
(Fundamental Problem of the Theory of Cognition),
Nordlingen, 1881.

F. Paulsen, Versuch einer Entwicklungsgeschichte der
Kantschen Erkenntnistheorie (Study on the History of the
Development of the Kantian Theory of Cognition),
Leipzig, 1875.

J. Rehmke, Die Welt als Wahrnehmung und Begriff, usw.,
(The World as Percept and Concept, etc.), Berlin, 1880.

Th. Reid, Untersuchungen uber den menschlichen Geist
nach Prinzipien des gesunden Menschenverstandes
(Inquiry into the Human Mind for the Principles of
Common Sense), 1764; German translation, Leipzig,
1782.

A. Riehl, Der philosophische Kritizismus und seine
Bedeutung fur die positive Wissenschaft (Philosophical
Criticism and its Importance for Positive Science),
Leipzig, 1887.

J. Rulf, Wissenschaft des Weltgedankens und der
Gedankenwelt, System einer neuen Metaphysik (Science
of World-Thought and Thought-World, A System of a
New Metaphysics), Leipzig, 1888.

R. v. Schubert-Soldern, Gund lagen einer
Erkenntnistheorie (Fundamentals of a Theory of
Cognition), Leipzig, 1884.

G. E. Schulze, Aenesidemus, Helmstadt, 1792.

W. Schuppe, Zur voraussetzungslosen Erkenntnistheorie
(Contribution to a Theory of Cognition Free of
Presuppositions), Philosophische Monatschefte
(Philosophical Monthly), Berlin, Leipzig, Heidelberg,
1882, Vol. XVIII, Nos. 6 and 7.

Rud. Seydel, Logik oder Wissenschaft vom Wissen
(Logic, or the Science of Knowledge), Leipzig, 1866.

Christoph v. Sigwart, Logik (Logic), Freiburg i. Br., 1878.

A. Stadler, Die Grundsatze der reinen Erkenntnistheorie in der
Kantischen Philosophie (The Principles of the Pure
Theory of Cognition in the Philosophy of Kant), Leipzig,
1876.

H. Taine, De l'lntelligence, 5th Edition, Paris, 1888.

A. Trendelenburg, Logische Untersuchungen (Logical
Researches), Leipzig, 1862.

F. Ueberweg, System der Logik (System of Logic), 3rd
Edition, Bonn, 1882.

H. Vaihinger, Hartmann, Duhring, Lange, Iserlohn, 1876.

Th. Varnbuhler, Widerlegung der Kritik der reinen
Vernunft (Refutation of the Critique of Pure Reason),
Leipzig, 1890.

J. Volkelt, Immanuel Kants Erkenntnistheorie, usw.,
(Immanuel Kant's Theory of Cognition, etc.), Hamburg,
1879.
-, Erfahrung und Denken (Experience and Thinking),
Hamburg, 1886.

Richard Wahle, Gehirn und Bewusstsein (Brain and
Consciousness), Vienna, 1884.

W. Windelband, Praluden (Preludes), Freiburg i. Br.,
1884. Die verschiedenen Phasen der Kantschen Lehre
vom "Ding an sich" (The Various Phases of Kant's
Theory of the "Thing-in-Itself") Vierteljahrsschrift fur
wissenschaftliche Philosophie (Quarterly for Scientific
Philosophy), Leipzig, Ist Year (1877), p. 229 ff.

J. H. Witte, Beitrage zur Verstandnis Kants (Contirbutions
to the Understanding of Kant), Berlin, 1874.
Vorstudien zur Erkenntnis des unerfahrbaren Seins
(Preliminary Studies for the Cognition of Non-
Experienceable Existence), Bonn, 1876.

H. Wolff, Ueber den Zusammenhang unserer
Vorstellungen mit Dingen ausser uns (On the Correlation
of our Perceptions with Things Outside Ourselves),
Leipzig, 1874.

Joh. Wolff, Das Bewusstsein und sein Objekt
(Consciousness and its Object), Berlin, 1889.

W. Wundt, Logik (Logic), Vol. I: Erkenntnislehre (Theory
of Cognition), Stuttgart, 1880.

The following titles related to Fichte:

F. C. Biedermann, De Genetica philosophandi ratione et
methodo, praesertim Fichtii, Schellingii, Hegelii,
Dissertationis particula prima, syntheticam Fichtii
methodum exhibens, etc., Lipsiae, 1835.

F. Frederichs, Der Freiheitsbegriff Kants und Fichtes (The
Concept of Freedom of Kant and Fichte), Berlin, 1886.

O. Guhloff, Der transcendentale Idealismus
(Transcendental Idealism), Halle, 1888.

P. Hensel, Ueber die Beizehung des reinen Ich bei Fichte
zur Einheit der Apperception bei Kant (On the Relation
between the Pure I in the Works of Fichte and the Unity
of Perception in those of Kant), Freiburg i. Br., 1885.

G. Schwabe, Fichtes und Schopenhauers Lehre vom
Willen mit ihren Consequenzen fiir Weltbegreifung und
Lebensfuhrung (The Theory of Will of Fichte and
Schopenhauer and its Consequences for Understanding
the World and the Conduct of Life), Jena, 1887.

The numerous works published on the occasion of Fichte's
Anniversary in 1862 are of course not included here. However, I would,
above all, mention the Address of Trendelenburg (A. Trendelenburg, Zur
Erinnerung an J. G. Fichte -To the Memory of J. G. Fichte -- Berlin,
1862), which contains important theoretical viewpoints.

FILE
See Johannes Volkelt's Erfarung und Denken. Kritische Grundlegung der
Erkenntnistheorie, Experience and Thinking. Critical Foundation for a
Theory of Cognition. Hamburg and Leipzig, 1886. (Johannes Volkelt
1848-1930, philosopher, professor at Leipzig.)

C4172
Grundlinien einer Erkenntnistheorie der Goetheschen Weltanschauung,
mit besonderer Rucksicht auf Schiller, publ. in English translation by
Olin D. Wannamaker, New York, 1950, under the title, "The Theory of
Knowledge Implicit in Goethe's World Conception-Fundamental Outlines
with Special Reference to Schiller." The first German edition
published Berlin and Stuttgart, 1886, revised ed., Stuttgart, 1924,
with new Foreword by the author. Other editions: Dornach, 1924;
Dresden, 1936; Freiburg i. Br., 1949; Dornach, 1960.

 

Part III: Preliminary Remarks

PRELIMINARY REMARKS

Epistemology is the scientific study of what all other sciences
presuppose without examining it: cognition itself. It is thus a
philosophical science, fundamental to all other sciences. Only through
epistemology can we learn the value and significance of all insight
gained through the other sciences. Thus it provides the foundation for
all scientific effort. It is obvious that it can fulfill its proper
function only by making no presuppositions itself, as far as this is
possible, about man's faculty of knowledge. This is generally
accepted. Nevertheless, when the better-known systems of epistemology
are more closely examined it becomes apparent that a whole series of
presuppositions are made at the beginning, which cast doubt on the
rest of the argument. It is striking that such hidden assumptions are
usually made at the outset, when the fundamental problems of
epistemology are formulated. But if the essential problems of a
science are misstated, the right solution is unlikely to be
forthcoming. The history of science shows that whole epochs have
suffered from innumerable mistakes which can be traced to the simple
fact that certain problems were wrongly formulated. To illustrate
this, we need not go back as far as Aristotle's physics or Raymond
Lull's Ars Magna;" there are plenty of more recent examples. For
instance, innumerable problems concerning the purpose of rudimentary
organs of certain organisms could only be rightly formulated when the
condition for doing so had first been created through the discovery of
the fundamental law of biogenesis. While biology was influenced by
teleological views, the relevant problems could not be formulated in a
way which could lead to a satisfactory answer. For example, what
fantastic ideas were entertained concerning the function of the pineal
gland in the human brain, as long as the emphasis was on its purpose!
Then comparative anatomy threw some light on the matter by asking a
different question; instead of asking what the organ was "for,"
inquiry began as to whether, in man, it might be merely a remnant from
a lower level of evolution. Another example: how many physical
questions had to be modified after the discovery of the laws of the
mechanical equivalent of heat and of conservation of energy! In short,
success in scientific research depends essentially on whether the
problems can be formulated rightly. Even though epistemology occupies
a very special place as the basis presupposed by the other sciences,
nevertheless, successful progress can only be expected when its
fundamental problems are correctly formulated.

The discussion which follows aims so to formulate the problem of
cognition that in this very formulation it will do full justice to the
essential feature of epistemology, namely, the fact that it is a
science which must contain no presuppositions. A further aim is to use
this philosophical basis for science to throw light on Johann Gottlieb
Fichte's philosophy of science. Why Fichte's attempt in particular to
provide an absolutely certain basis for the sciences is linked to the
aims of this essay, will become clear in due course.

 

Part IV: Kant's Basic Epistemological Question

KANT'S BASIC EPISTEMOLOGICAL QUESTION

Kant is generally considered to be the founder of epistemology in the
modern sense. However, the history of philosophy before Kant contains
a number of investigations which must be considered as more than mere
beginnings of such a science. Volkelt points to this in his standard
work on epistemology, saying that critical treatments of this science
began as early as Locke. However, discussions which to-day come under
the heading of epistemology can be found as far back as in the
philosophy of ancient Greece. Kant then went into every aspect of all
the relevant problems, and innumerable thinkers following in his
footsteps went over the ground so thoroughly that in their works or in
Kant's are to be found repetitions of all earlier attempts to solve
these problems. Thus where a factual rather than a historical study of
epistemology is concerned, there is no danger of omitting anything
important if one considers only the period since the appearance of
Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. All earlier achievements in this field
have been repeated since Kant.

Kant's fundamental question concerning epistemology is: How are
synthetical judgments a priori possible? Let us consider whether or
not this question is free of presuppositions. Kant formulates it
because he believes that we can arrive at certain, unconditional
knowledge only if we can prove the validity of synthetical judgments a
priori. He says:

"In the solution of the above problem is comprehended at the same time
the possibility of the use of pure reason in the foundation and
construction of all sciences which contain theoretical knowledge a
priori of objects." "Upon the solution of this problem depends the
existence or downfall of the science of metaphysics."

Is this problem as Kant formulates it, free of all presuppositions?
Not at all, for it says that a system of absolute, certain knowledge
can be erected only on a foundation of judgments that are synthetical
and acquired independently of all experience. Kant calls a judgment
"synthetical" where the concept of the predicate brings to the concept
of the subject something which lies completely outside the subject-
"although it stands in connection with the subject," by contrast, in
analytical judgment, the predicate merely expresses something which is
already contained (though hidden) in the subject. It would be out of
place here to go into the extremely acute objections made by Johannes
Rehmke to this classification of judgments. For our present purpose it
will suffice to recognize that we can arrive at true knowledge only
through judgments which add one concept to another in such a way that
the content of the second was not already contained, at least for us,
in the first. If, with Kant, we wish to call this category of judgment
synthetical, then it must be agreed that knowledge in the form of
judgment can only be attained when the connection between predicate
and subject is synthetical in this sense. But the position is
different in regard to the second part of Kant's question, which
demands that these judgments must be acquired a priori, i.e.,
independent of all experience. After all, it is conceivable that such
judgments might not exist at all. A theory of knowledge must leave
open, to begin with, the question of whether we can arrive at a
judgment solely by means of experience, or by some other means as
well. Indeed, to an unprejudiced mind it must seem that for something
to be independent of experience in this way is impossible. For
whatever object we are concerned to know, we must become aware of it
directly and individually, that is, it must become experience. We
acquire mathematical judgment too, only through direct experience of
particular single examples. This is the case even if we regard them,
with Otto Liebmann as rooted in a certain faculty of our
consciousness. In this case, we must say: This or that proposition
must be valid, for, if its truth were denied, consciousness would be
denied as well; but we could only grasp its content, as knowledge,
through experience in exactly the same way as we experience a process
in outer nature. Irrespective of whether the content of such a
proposition contains elements which guarantee its absolute validity or
whether it is certain for other reasons, the fact remains that we
cannot make it our own unless at some stage it becomes experience for
us. This is the first objection to Kant's question.

The second consists in the fact that at the beginning of a theoretical
investigation of knowledge, one ought not to maintain that no valid
and absolute knowledge can be obtained by means of experience. For it
is quite conceivable that experience itself could contain some
characteristic feature which would guarantee the validity of insight
gained by means of it.

Two presuppositions are thus contained in Kant's formulation of the
question. One presupposition is that we need other means of gaining
knowledge besides experience, and the second is that all knowledge
gained through experience is only approximately valid. It does not
occur to Kant that these principles need proof, that they are open to
doubt. They are prejudices which he simply takes over from dogmatic
philosophy and then uses as the basis of his critical investigations.
Dogmatic philosophy assumes them to be valid, and simply uses them to
arrive at knowledge accordingly; Kant makes the same assumptions and
merely inquires under what conditions they are valid. But suppose they
are not valid at all? In that case, the edifice of Kant's doctrine has
no foundation whatever.

All that Kant brings forward in the five paragraphs preceding his
actual formulation of the problem, is an attempt to prove that
mathematical judgments are synthetical (an attempt which Robert
Zimmermann, if he does not refute it, at least shows it to be highly
questionable). But the two assumptions discussed above are retained as
scientific prejudices. In the Critique of Pure Reason it is said:

"Experience no doubt teaches us that this or that object is
constituted in such and such a manner, but not that it could not
possibly exist otherwise." "Experience never exhibits strict and
absolute, but only assumed and comparative universality (by
induction)."

In Prolegomena we find it said:

"Firstly, as regards the sources of metaphysical knowledge, the very
conception of the latter shows that these cannot be empirical. Its
principles (under which not merely its axioms, but also its
fundamental conceptions are included) must consequently never be
derived from experience, since it is not physical but metaphysical
knowledge, i.e., knowledge beyond experience, that is wanted."

And finally Kant says:

"Before all, be it observed, that proper mathematical propositions are
always judgments a priori, and not empirical, because they carry along
with them the conception of necessity, which cannot be given by
experience. If this be demurred to, it matters not; I will then limit
my assertion to pure mathematics, the very conception of which implies
that it consists of knowledge altogether non-empirical and a priori."

No matter where we open the Critique of Pure Reason we find that all
the investigations pursued in it are based on these dogmatic
principles. Cohen and Stadler attempt to prove that Kant has
established the a priori nature of mathematical and purely scientific
principles. However, all that the Critique of Pure Reason attempts to
show can be summed up as follows: Mathematics and pure natural science
are a priori sciences; from this it follows that the form of all
experiences must be inherent in the subject itself. Therefore, the
only thing left that is empirically given is the material of
sensations. This is built up into a system of experiences, the form of
which is inherent in the subject. The formal truths of a priori
theories have meaning and significance only as principles which
regulate the material of sensation; they make experience possible, but
do not go further than experience. However, these formal truths are
the synthetical judgment a priori, and they must, as condition
necessary for experience, extend as far as experience itself. The
Critique of Pure Reason does not at all prove that mathematics and
pure science are a priori sciences but only establishes their sphere
of validity, pre-supposing that their truths are acquired
independently of experience. Kant, in fact, avoids discussing the
question of proof of the a priori sciences in that he simply excludes
that section of mathematics (see conclusion of Kant's last statement
quoted above) where even in his own opinion the a priori nature is
open to doubt; and he limits himself to that section where he believes
proof can be inferred from the concepts alone. Even Johannes Volkelt
finds that:

"Kant starts from the positive assumption that a necessary and
universal knowledge exists as an actual fact." These presuppositions
which Kant never specifically attempted to prove, are so contrary to a
proper critical theory of knowledge that one must seriously ask
oneself whether the Critique of Pure Reason is valid as critical
epistemology."

Volkelt does find that there are good reasons for answering this
question affirmatively, but he adds: "The critical conviction of
Kant's theory of knowledge is nevertheless seriously disturbed by this
dogmatic assumption." It is evident from this that Volkelt, too, finds
that the Critique of Pure Reason as a theory of knowledge, is not free
of presuppositions.

O. Liebmann, Holder, Windelband, Ueberweg, Ed. v. Hartmann and Kuno
Fischer, hold essentially similar views on this point, namely, that
Kant bases his whole argument on the assumption that knowledge of pure
mathematics and natural science is acquired a priori.

That we acquire knowledge independently of all experience, and that
the insight gained from experience is of general value only to a
limited extent, can only be conclusions derived from some other
investigation. These assertions must definitely be preceded by an
examination both of the nature of experience and of knowledge.
Examination of experience could lead to the first principle;
examination of knowledge, to the second.

In reply to these criticisms of Kant's critique of reason, it could be
said that every theory of knowledge must first lead the reader to
where the starting point, free of all presuppositions, is to be found.
For what we possess as knowledge at any moment in our life is far
removed from this point, and we must first be led back to it
artificially. In actual fact, it is a necessity for every
epistemologist to come to such a purely didactic arrangement
concerning the starting point of this science. But this must always be
limited merely to showing to what extent the starting point for
cognition really is the absolute start; it must be presented in purely
self evident, analytical sentences and, unlike Kant's argument,
contain no assertions which will influence the content of the
subsequent discussion. It is also incumbent on the epistemologist to
show that his starting point is really free of all presuppositions.
All this, however, has nothing to do with the nature of the starting
point itself, but is quite independent of it and makes no assertions
about it. Even when he begins to teach mathematics, the teacher must
try to convince the pupil that certain truths are to be understood as
axioms. But no one would assert that the content of the axioms is made
dependent on these preliminary considerations. In exactly the same way
the epistemologist must show in his introductory remarks how one can
arrive at a starting point free of all presuppositions; yet the actual
content of this starting point must be quite independent of these
considerations. However, anyone who, like Kant, makes definite,
dogmatic assertions at the very outset, is certainly very far from
fulfilling these conditions when he introduces his theory of
knowledge.

 

Part V: Epistemology Since Kant

EPISTEMOLOGY SINCE KANT

All propounders of theories of knowledge since Kant have been
influenced to a greater or lesser degree by the mistaken way he
formulated the problem of knowledge. As a result of his "a priorism"
he advanced the view that all objects given to us are our
representations. Ever since, this view has been made the basic
principle and starting point of practically all epistemological
systems. The only thing we can establish as an immediate certainty is
the principle that we are aware of our representations; this principle
has become an almost universally accepted belief of philosophers. As
early as 1792 G. E. Schulze maintained in his Aenesidemus that all our
knowledge consists of mere representations, and that we can never go
beyond our representations. Schopenhauer, with a characteristic
philosophical fervor, puts forward the view that the enduring
achievement of Kantian philosophy is the principle that the world is
"my representation." Eduard von Hartmann finds this principle so
irrefutable that in his book, Kritische Grundlegung des
transzendentalen Realismus (Critical Basis of Transcendental Realism)
he assumes that his readers, by critical reflection, have overcome the
naive identification of the perceptual picture with the
thing-in-itself, that they have convinced themselves of the absolute
diversity of the subjective-ideal content of consciousness, given as
perceptual object through the act of representing, and the thing
existing by itself, independent both of the act of representing and of
the form of consciousness; in other words, readers who have entirely
convinced themselves that the totality of what is given us directly
consists of our representations. In his final work on epistemology,
Eduard von Hartmann did attempt to provide a foundation for this view.
The validity of this in relation to a theory of knowledge free from
presuppositions, will be discussed later. Otto Liebmann claims that
the principle: "Consciousness cannot jump beyond itself" must be the
inviolable and foremost principle of any science of knowledge. Volkelt
is of the opinion that the first and most immediate truth is: "All our
knowledge extends, to begin with, only as far as our representations";
he called this the most positive principle of knowledge, and
considered a theory of knowledge to be "eminently critical" only if it
"considers this principle as the sole stable point from which to begin
all philosophizing, and from then on thinks it through consistently.''
Other philosophers make other assertions the center of epistemology,
e.g.: the essential problem is the question of the relation between
thinking and existence, as well as the possibility of meditation
between them, or again: How does that which exists become conscious,
(Rehmke) etc. Kirchmann starts from two epistemological axioms: "the
perceived is" and "the contradictory is not.'' According to E. L.
Fischer knowledge consists in the recognition of something factual and
real. He lays down this dogma without proof as does Goring, who
maintains something similar: "Knowledge always means recognizing
something that exists; this is a fact that neither scepticism nor
Kantian criticism can deny.'' The two latter philosophers simply lay
down the law: This they say is knowledge, without judging themselves.

Even if these different assertions were correct, or led to a correct
formulation of the problem, the place to discuss them is definitely
not at the beginning of a theory of knowledge. For they all represent
at the outset a quite specific insight into the sphere of knowledge.
To say that my knowledge extends to begin with only as far as my
representations, is to express a quite definite judgment about
cognition. In this sentence I add a predicate to the world given to
me, namely, its existence in the form of representation. But how do I
know, prior to all knowledge, that the things given to me are
representations?

Thus this principle ought not to be placed at the foundation of a
theory of knowledge; that this is true is most easily appreciated by
tracing the line of thought that leads up to it. This principle has
become in effect a part of the whole modem scientific consciousness.
The considerations which have led to it are to be found systematically
and comprehensively summarized in Part I of Eduard von Hartmann's
book, Das Grundproblem der Erkenntnistheorie (The Fundamental Problem
of Epistemology). What is advanced there can thus serve as a kind of
guide when discussing the reasons that led to the above assumption.

These reasons are physical, psycho-physical, physiological, as well as
philosophical. The physicist who observes phenomena that occur in our
environment when, for instance, we perceive a sound, is led to
conclude that these phenomena have not the slightest resemblance to
what we directly perceive as sound. Out there in the space surrounding
us, nothing is to be found except vibrations of material bodies and of
air. It is concluded from this that what we ordinarily call sound or
tone is solely a subjective reaction of our organism to those
wave-like movements. Likewise it is found that light, color and heat
are something purely subjective. The phenomena of color-diffraction,
refraction, interference and polarization show that these sensations
correspond to certain transverse vibrations in external space, which,
so it is thought, must be ascribed partly to material bodies, partly
to an infinitely fine elastic substance, the ether. Furthermore,
because of certain physical phenomena, the physicist finds himself
compelled to abandon the belief in the continuity of objects in space,
and to analyze them into systems of minute particles (molecules,
atoms) the size of which, in relation to the distance between them, is
immeasurably small. Thus he concludes that material bodies affect one
another across empty space, so that in reality force is exerted from a
distance. The physicist believes he is justified in assuming that a
material body does not affect our senses of touch and warmth by direct
contact, because there must be a certain distance, even if very small,
between the body and the place where it touches the skin. From this he
concludes further that what we sense as the hardness or warmth of a
body, for example, is only the reaction of the peripheral nerves of
our senses of touch and warmth to the molecular forces of bodies which
act upon them across empty space.

These considerations of the physicist are amplified by those of the
psycho-physicist in the form of a science of specific sense-energies.
J. Muller has shown that each sense can be affected only in a
characteristic manner which is conditioned by its structure, so that
it always reacts in the same way to any external stimulus. If the
optic nerve is stimulated, there is a sensation of light, whether the
stimulus is in the form of pressure, electric current, or light. On
the other hand, the same external phenomenon produces quite different
sensations, according to which sense organ transmits it. This leads to
the conclusion that there is only one kind of phenomenon in the
external world, namely motion, and that the many aspects of the world
which we perceive derive essentially from the reaction of our senses
to this phenomenon. According to this view, we do not perceive the
external world, itself, but merely the subjective sensations which it
releases in us.

Thus physiology is added to physics. Physics deals with the phenomena
occurring outside our organism to which our perceptions correspond;
physiology aims to investigate the processes that occur in man's body
when he experiences a certain sense impression. It shows that the
epidermis is completely insensitive to external stimuli. In order to
reach the nerves connected with our sense of touch on the periphery of
the body, an external vibration must first be transmitted through the
epidermis. In the case of hearing and vision the external motion is
further modified through a number of organs in these sense-tools,
before it reaches the corresponding nerve. These effects, produced in
the organs at the periphery of the body, now have to be conducted
through the nerve to the central organ, where sensations are finally
produced through purely mechanical processes in the brain. It is
obvious that the stimulus which acts on the sense organ is so changed
through these modifications that there can be no similarity between
what first affected the sense organs, and the sensations that finally
arise in consciousness. The result of these considerations is summed
up by Hartmann in the following words:

"The content of consciousness consists fundamentally of the sensations
which are the soul's reflex response to processes of movement in the
uppermost part of the brain, and these have not the slightest
resemblance to the molecular movements which called them into being."

If this line of thought is correct and is pursued to its conclusion,
it must then be admitted that our consciousness does not contain the
slightest element of what could be called external existence.

To the physical and physiological arguments against so-called "naive
realism" Hartmann adds further objections which he describes as
essentially philosophical. A logical examination of the first two
objections reveals that in fact one can arrive at the above result
only by first assuming the existence and interrelations of external
things, as ordinary naive consciousness does, and then investigating
how this external world enters our consciousness by means of our
organism. We have seen that between receiving a sense impression and
becoming conscious of a sensation, every trace of such an external
world is lost, and all that remains in consciousness are our
representations. We must therefore assume that our picture of the
external world is built up by the soul, using the material of
sensations. First of all, a spatial picture is constructed using the
sensations produced by sight and touch, and sensations arising from
the other senses are then added. When we are compelled to think of a
certain complex of sensations as connected, we are led to the concept
of matter, which we consider to be the carrier of sensations. If we
notice that some sensations associated with a substance disappear,
while others arise, we ascribe this to a change regulated by the
causal laws in the world of phenomena. According to this view, our
whole world-picture is composed of subjective sensations arranged by
our own soul-activity. Hartmann says: "Thus all that the subject
perceives are modifications of its own soul-condition and nothing
else.''

Let us examine how this conviction is arrived at. The argument may be
summarized as follows: If an external world exists then we do not
perceive it as such, but through our organism transform it into a
world of representations. When followed out consistently, this is a
self-canceling assumption. In any case, can this argument be used to
establish any conviction at all? Are we justified in regarding our
given world-picture as a subjective content of representations, just
because we arrive inevitably at this conclusion if we start from the
assumption made by naive consciousness? After all, the aim was just to
prove this assumption invalid. It should then be possible for an
assertion to be wrong, and yet lead to a correct result. This can
happen, but the result cannot then be said to have been proved by the
assertion.

The view which accepts the reality of our directly given picture of
the world as certain and beyond doubt, is usually called naive
realism. The opposite view, which regards this world-picture as merely
the content of our consciousness, is called transcendental idealism.
Thus the preceding discussion could also be summarized as follows:
Transcendental idealism demonstrates its truth by using the same
premises as the naive realism which it aims to refute. Transcendental
idealism is justified if naive realism is proved incorrect, but its
incorrectness is only demonstrated by means of the incorrect view
itself. Once this is realized there is no alternative but to abandon
this path and to attempt to arrive at another view of the world. Does
this mean proceeding by trial and error until we happen to hit on the
right one? That is Hartmann's approach when he believes his
epistemological standpoint established on the grounds that his view
explains the phenomena, whereas others do not. According to him the
various world-views are engaged in a sort of struggle for existence in
which the fittest is ultimately accepted as victor. But the
inconsistency of this procedure is immediately apparent, for there
might well be other hypotheses which would explain the phenomena
equally satisfactorily. For this reason we prefer to adhere to the
above argument for the refuting of naive realism, and investigate
precisely where its weakness lies. After all, naive realism is the
viewpoint from which we all start. It is therefore the proper
starting-point for a critical investigation. By recognizing its
shortcomings we shall be led to the right path much more surely than
by simply trusting to luck.

The subjectivism outlined above is based on the use of thinking for
elaborating certain facts. This presupposes that, starting from
certain facts, a correct conclusion can be obtained through logical
thinking (logical combination of particular observations). But the
justification for using thinking in this way is not examined by this
philosophical approach. This is its weakness. While naive realism
begins by assuming that the content of experience, as we perceive it,
is an objective reality without examining if this is so, the
standpoint just characterized sets out from the equally uncritical
conviction that thinking can be used to arrive at scientifically valid
conclusions. In contrast to naive realism, this view could be called
naive rationalism. To justify this term, a brief comment on the
concept of "naive" is necessary here. A. Doring tries to define this
concept in his essay, Ueber den Begriff des naiven Realismus
(Concerning the Concept of naive Realism). He says:

"The concept 'naive' designates the zero point in the scale of
reflection about one's own relation to what one is doing. A naive
content may well be correct, for although it is unreflecting and
therefore simply non-critical or uncritical, this lack of reflection
and criticism excludes the objective assurance of truth, and includes
the possibility and danger of error, yet by no means necessitates
them. One can be equally naive in one's life of feeling and will, as
in the life of representing and thinking in the widest sense;
furthermore, one may express this inner life in a naive manner rather
than repressing and modifying it through consideration and reflection.
To be naive means not to be influenced, or at least not consciously
influenced by tradition, education or rules; it means to be, in all
spheres of life, what the root of the word, 'nativus' implies: i.e.,
unconscious, impulsive, instinctive, daimonic."

Starting from this, we will endeavor to define "naive" still more
precisely. In all our activities, two things must be taken into
account: the activity itself, and our knowledge of its laws. We may be
completely absorbed in the activity without worrying about its laws.
The artist is in this position when he does not reflect about the laws
according to which he creates, but applies them, using feeling and
sensitivity. We may call him "naive." It is possible, however, to
observe oneself, and enquire into the laws inherent in one's own
activity, thus abandoning the naive consciousness just described
through knowing exactly the scope of and justification for what one
does. This I shall call critical. I believe this definition comes
nearest to the meaning of this concept as it has been used in
philosophy, with greater or lesser clarity, ever since Kant. Critical
reflection then is the opposite of the naive approach. A critical
attitude is one that comes to grips with the laws of its own activity
in order to discover their reliability and limits. Epistemology can
only be a critical science. For its object is an essentially
subjective activity of man: cognition, and it wishes to demonstrate
the laws inherent in cognition. Thus everything "naive" must be
excluded from this science. Its strength must lie in doing precisely
what many thinkers, inclined more toward the practical doing of
things, pride themselves that they have never done, namely, "think
about thinking."

 

Part VI: The Starting Point of Epistemology

THE STARTING POINT OF EPISTEMOLOGY

As we have seen in the preceding chapters, an epistemological
investigation must begin by rejecting existing knowledge. Knowledge is
something brought into existence by man, something that has arisen
through his activity. If a theory of knowledge is really to explain
the whole sphere of knowledge, then it must start from something still
quite untouched by the activity of thinking, and what is more, from
something which lends to this activity its first impulse. This
starting point must lie outside the act of cognition, it must not
itself be knowledge. But it must be sought immediately prior to
cognition, so that the very next step man takes beyond it is the
activity of cognition. This absolute starting point must be determined
in such a way that it admits nothing already derived from cognition.

Only our directly given world-picture can offer such a starting point,
i.e. that picture of the world which presents itself to man before he
has subjected it to the processes of knowledge in any way, before he
has asserted or decided anything at all about it by means of thinking.
This "directly given" picture is what flits past us, disconnected, but
still undifferentiated. In it, nothing appears distinguished from,
related to, or determined by, anything else. At this stage, so to
speak, no object or event is yet more important or significant than
any other. The most rudimentary organ of an animal, which, in the
light of further knowledge may turn out to be quite unimportant for
its development and life, appears before us with the same claims for
our attention as the noblest and most essential part of the organism.
Before our conceptual activity begins, the world-picture contains
neither substance, quality nor cause and effect; distinctions between
matter and spirit, body and soul, do not yet exist. Furthermore, any
other predicate must also be excluded from the world-picture at this
stage. The picture can be considered neither as reality nor as
appearance, neither subjective nor objective, neither as chance nor as
necessity; whether it is "thing-in-itself," or mere representation,
cannot be decided at this stage. For, as we have seen, knowledge of
physics and physiology which leads to a classification of the "given"
under one or the other of the above headings, cannot be a basis for a
theory of knowledge.

If a being with a fully developed human intelligence were suddenly
created out of nothing and then confronted the world, the first
impression made on his senses and his thinking would be something like
what 1 have just characterized as the directly given world-picture. In
practice, man never encounters this world-picture in this form at any
time in his life; he never experiences a division between a purely
passive awareness of the "directly-given" and a thinking recognition
of it. This fact could lead to doubt about my description of the
starting point for a theory of knowledge. Hartmann says for example:

" We are not concerned with the hypothetical content of consciousness
in a child which is just becoming conscious or in an animal at the
lowest level of life, since the philosophizing human being has no
experience of this; if he tries to reconstruct the content of
consciousness of beings on primitive biogenetic or ontogenetic levels,
he must base his conclusions on the way he experiences his own
consciousness. Our first task, therefore, is to establish the content
of man's consciousness when he begins philosophical reflection.''

The objection to this, however, is that the world-picture with which
we begin philosophical reflection already contains predicates mediated
through cognition. These cannot be accepted uncritically, but must be
carefully removed from the world-picture so that it can be considered
free of anything introduced through the process of knowledge. This
division between the "given" and the "known" will not in fact,
coincide with any stage of human development; the boundary must be
drawn artificially. But this can be done at every level of development
so long as we draw the dividing line correctly between what confronts
us free of all conceptual definitions, and what cognition subsequently
makes of it. It might be objected here that I have already made use of
a number of conceptual definitions in order to extract from the
world-picture as it appears when completed by man, that other
world-picture which I described as the directly given. However, what
we have extracted by means of thought does not characterize the
directly given world-picture, nor define nor express anything about it;
what it does is to guide our attention to the dividing line where the
starting point for cognition is to be found. The question of truth or
error, correctness or incorrectness, does not enter into this
statement, which is concerned with the moment preceding the point
where a theory of knowledge begins. It serves merely to guide us
deliberately to this starting point. No one proceeding to consider
epistemological questions could possibly be said to be standing at the
starting point of cognition, for he already possesses a certain amount
of knowledge. To remove from this all that has been contributed by
cognition, and to establish a pre-cognitive starting point, can only
be done conceptually. But such concepts are not of value as knowledge;
they have the purely negative function of removing from sight all that
belongs to knowledge and of leading us to the point where knowledge
begins. These considerations act as signposts pointing to where the
act of cognition first appears, but at this stage, do not themselves
form part of the act of cognition. Whatever the epistemologist
proposes in order to establish his starting point raises, to begin
with, no question of truth or error, but only of its suitability for
this task. From the starting point, too, all error is excluded, for
error can only begin with cognition, and therefore cannot arise before
cognition sets in.

Only a theory of knowledge that starts from considerations of this
kind can claim to observe this last principle. For if the starting
point is some object (or subject) to which is attached any conceptual
definition, then the possibility of error is already present in the
starting point, namely in the definition itself. Justification of the
definition will then depend upon the laws inherent in the act of
cognition. But these laws can be discovered only in the course of the
epistemological investigation itself. Error is wholly excluded only by
saying: I eliminate from my world-picture all conceptual definitions
arrived at through cognition and retain only what enters my field of
observation without any activity on my part. When on principle I
refrain from making any statement, I cannot make a mistake.

Error, in relation to knowledge, i.e. epistemologically, can occur
only within the act of cognition. Sense deceptions are not errors.
That the moon upon rising appears larger than it does at its zenith is
not an error but a fact governed by the laws of nature. A mistake in
knowledge would occur only if, in using thinking to combine the given
perceptions, we misinterpreted "larger" and "smaller." But this
interpretation is part of the act of cognition.

To understand cognition exactly in all its details, its origin and
starting point must first be grasped. It is clear, furthermore, that
what precedes this primary starting point must not be included in an
explanation of cognition, but must be presupposed. Investigation of
the essence of what is here presupposed, is the task of the various
branches of scientific knowledge. The present aim, however, is not to
acquire specific knowledge of this or that element, but to investigate
cognition itself. Until we have understood the act of knowledge, we
cannot judge the significance of statements about the content of the
world arrived at through the act of cognition.

This is why the directly given is not defined as long as the relation
of such a definition to what is defined is not known. Even the
concept: "directly given" includes no statement about what precedes
cognition. Its only purpose is to point to this given, to turn our
attention to it. At the starting point of a theory of knowledge, the
concept is only the first initial relation between cognition and
world-content. This description even allows for the possibility that
the total world-content would turn out to be only a figment of our own
"I," which would mean that extreme subjectivism would be true;
subjectivism is not something that exists as given. It can only be a
conclusion drawn from considerations based on cognition, i.e. it would
have to be confirmed by the theory of knowledge; it could not be
assumed as its basis.

This directly given world-content includes everything that enters our
experience in the widest sense: sensations, perceptions, opinions,
feelings, deeds, pictures of dreams and imaginations, representations,
concepts and ideas. Illusions and hallucinations too, at this stage
are equal to the rest of the world-content. For their relation to
other perceptions can be revealed only through observation based on
cognition.

When epistemology starts from the assumption that all the elements
just mentioned constitute the content of our consciousness, the
following question immediately arises: How is it possible for us to go
beyond our consciousness and recognize actual existence; where can the
leap be made from our subjective experiences to what lies beyond them?
When such an assumption is not made, the situation is different. Both
consciousness and the representation of the "I" are, to begin with,
only parts of the directly given and the relationship of the latter to
the two former must be discovered by means of cognition. Cognition is
not to be defined in terms of consciousness, but vice versa: both
consciousness and the relation between subject and object in terms of
cognition. Since the "given" is left without predicate, to begin with,
the question arises as to how it is defined at all; how can any start
be made with cognition? How does one part of the world-picture come to
be designated as perception and the other as concept, one thing as
existence, another as appearance, this as cause and that as effect;
how is it that we can separate ourselves from what is objective and
regard ourselves as "I" in contrast to the "not-I?"

We must find the bridge from the world-picture as given, to that other
world-picture which we build up by means of cognition. Here, however,
we meet with the following difficulty: As long as we merely stare
passively at the given we shall never find a point of attack where we
can gain a foothold, and from where we can then proceed with
cognition. Somewhere in the given we must find a place where we can
set to work, where something exists which is akin to cognition. If
everything were really only given, we could do no more than merely
stare into the external world and stare indifferently into the inner
world of our individuality. We would at most be able to describe
things as something external to us; we should never be able to
understand them. Our concepts would have a purely external relation to
that to which they referred; they would not be inwardly related to it.
For real cognition depends on finding a sphere somewhere in the given
where our cognizing activity does not merely presuppose something
given, but finds itself active in the very essence of the given. In
other words: precisely through strict adherence to the given as merely
given, it must become apparent that not everything is given.
Insistence on the given alone must lead to the discovery of something
which goes beyond the given. The reason for so insisting is not to
establish some arbitrary starting point for a theory of knowledge, but
to discover the true one. In this sense, the given also includes what
according to its very nature is not-given. The latter would appear, to
begin with, as formally a part of the given, but on closer scrutiny,
would reveal its true nature of its own accord.

The whole difficulty in understanding cognition comes from the fact
that we ourselves do not create the content of the world. If we did
this, cognition would not exist at all. I can only ask questions about
something which is given to me. Something which I create myself, I
also determine myself, so that I do not need to ask for an explanation
for it.

This is the second step in our theory of knowledge. It consists in the
postulate: In the sphere of the given there must be something in
relation to which our activity does not hover in emptiness, but where
the content of the world itself enters this activity.

The starting point for our theory of knowledge was placed so that it
completely precedes the cognizing activity, and thus cannot prejudice
cognition and obscure it; in the same way, the next step has been
defined so that there can be no question of either error or
incorrectness. For this step does not prejudge any issue, but merely
shows what conditions are necessary if knowledge is to arise at all.
It is essential to remember that it is we ourselves who postulate what
characteristic feature that part of the world-content must possess
with which our activity of cognition can make a start.

This, in fact, is the only thing we can do. For the world-content as
given is completely undefined. No part of it of its own accord can
provide the occasion for setting it up as the starting point for
bringing order into chaos. The activity of cognition must therefore
issue a decree and declare what characteristics this starting point
must manifest. Such a decree in no way infringes on the quality of the
given. It does not introduce any arbitrary assertion into the science
of epistemology. In fact, it asserts nothing, but claims only that if
knowledge is to be made explainable, then we must look for some part
of the given which can provide a starting point for cognition, as
described above. If this exists, cognition can be explained, but not
otherwise. Thus, while the given provides the general starting point
for our theory of knowledge, it must now be narrowed down to some
particular point of the given.

Let us now take a closer look at this demand. Where, within the
world-picture, do we find something that is not merely given, but only
given insofar as it is being produced in the actual act of cognition?

It is essential to realize that the activity of producing something in
the act of cognition must present itself to us as something also
directly given. It must not be necessary to draw conclusions before
recognizing it. This at once indicates that sense impressions do not
meet our requirements. For we cannot know directly but only indirectly
that sense impressions do not occur without activity on our part; this
we discover only by considering physical and physiological factors.
But we do know absolutely directly that concepts and ideas appear only
in the act of cognition and through this enter the sphere of the
directly given. In this respect concepts and ideas do not deceive
anyone. A hallucination may appear as something externally given, but
one would never take one's own concepts to be something given without
one's own thinking activity. A lunatic regards things and relations as
real to which are applied the predicate "reality," although in fact
they are not real; but he would never say that his concepts and ideas
entered the sphere of the given without his own activity. It is a
characteristic feature of all the rest of our world-picture that it
must be given if we are to experience it; the only case in which the
opposite occurs is that of concepts and ideas: these we must produce
if we are to experience them. Concepts and ideas alone are given us in
a form that could be called intellectual seeing. Kant and the later
philosophers who follow in his steps, completely deny this ability to
man, because it is said that all thinking refers only to objects and
does not itself produce anything. In intellectual seeing the content
must be contained within the thought-form itself. But is this not
precisely the case with pure concepts and ideas? (By concept, I mean a
principle according to which the disconnected elements of perception
become joined into a unity. Causality, for example, is a concept. An
idea is a concept with a greater content. Organism, considered quite
abstractly, is an idea.) However, they must be considered in the form
which they possess while still quite free of any empirical content.
If, for example, the pure idea of causality is to be grasped, then one
must not choose a particular instance of causality or the sum total of
all causality; it is essential to take hold of the pure concept,
Causality. Cause and effect must be sought in the world, but before we
can discover it in the world we ourselves must first produce causality
as a thought-form. If one clings to the Kantian assertion that of
themselves concepts are empty, it would be impossible to use concepts
to determine anything about the given world. Suppose two elements of
the world-content were given: a and b. If I am to find a relation
between them, I must do so with the help of a principle which has a
definite content; I can only produce this principle myself in the act
of cognition; I cannot derive it from the objects, for the definition
of the objects is only to be obtained by means of the principle. Thus
a principle by means of which we define objects belongs entirely to
the conceptual sphere alone.

Before proceeding further, a possible objection must be considered. It
might appear that this discussion is unconsciously introducing the
representation of the "I," of the "personal subject," and using it
without first justifying it. For example, in statements like "we
produce concepts" or "we insist on this or that." But, in fact, my
explanation contains nothing which implies that such statements are
more than turns of phrase. As shown earlier, the fact that the act of
cognition depends upon and proceeds from an "I," can be established
only through considerations which themselves make use of cognition.
Thus, to begin with, the discussion must be limited to the act of
cognition alone, without considering the cognizing subject. All that
has been established thus far is the fact that something "given"
exists; and that somewhere in this "given" the above described
postulate arises; and lastly, that this postulate corresponds to the
sphere of concepts and ideas. This is not to deny that its source is
the "I." But these two initial steps in the theory of knowledge must
first be defined in their pure form.

 

Part VII: Cognition and Reality

COGNITION AND REALITY

Concepts and ideas, therefore, comprise part of the given and at the
same time lead beyond it. This makes it possible to define what other
activity is concerned in attaining knowledge.

Through a postulate we have separated from the rest of the given
world-picture a particular part of it; this was done because it lies
in the nature of cognition to start from just this particular part.
Thus we separated it out only to enable us to understand the act of
cognition. In so doing, it must be clear that we have artificially
torn apart the unity of the world-picture. We must realize that what
we have separated out from the given has an essential connection with
the world content, irrespective of our postulate. This provides the
next step in the theory of knowledge: it must consist in restoring
that unity which we tore apart in order to make knowledge possible.
The act of restoration consists in thinking about the world as given.
Our thinking consideration of the world brings about the actual union
of the two parts of the world content: the part we survey as given on
the horizon of our experience, and the part which has to be produced
in the act of cognition before that can be given also. The act of
cognition is the synthesis of these two elements. Indeed, in every
single act of cognition, one part appears as something produced within
that act itself, and, through the act, as added to the merely given.
This part, in actual fact, is always so produced, and only appears as
something given at the beginning of epistemological theory.

To permeate the world, as given, with concepts and ideas, is a
thinking consideration of things. Therefore, thinking is the act which
mediates knowledge. It is only when thinking arranges the
world-picture by means of its own activity that knowledge can come
about. Thinking itself is an activity which, in the moment of
cognition, produces a content of its own. Therefore, insofar as the
content that is cognized issues from thinking, it contains no problem
for cognition. We have only to observe it; the very nature of what we
observe is given us directly. A description of thinking is also at the
same time the science of thinking. Logic, too, has always been a
description of thought-forms, never a science that proves anything.
Proof is only called for when the content of thought is synthesized
with some other content of the world. Gideon Spicker is therefore
quite right when he says in his book, Lessings Weltanschauung,
(Lessing's World-View), page 5, "We can never experience, either
empirically or logically, whether thinking in itself is correct." One
could add to this that with thinking, all proof ceases. For proof
presupposes thinking. One may be able to prove a particular fact, but
one can never prove proof as such. We can only describe what a proof
is. In logic, all theory is pure empiricism; in the science of logic
there is only observation. But when we want to know something other
than thinking, we can do so only with the help of thinking; this means
that thinking has to approach something given and transform its
chaotic relationship with the world-picture into a systematic one.
This means that thinking approaches the given world-content as an
organizing principle. The process takes place as follows: Thinking
first lifts out certain entities from the totality of the world-whole.
In the given nothing is really separate; everything is a connected
continuum. Then thinking relates these separate entities to each other
in accordance with the thought-forms it produces, and also determines
the outcome of this relationship. When thinking restores a
relationship between two separate sections of the world-content, it
does not do so arbitrarily. Thinking waits for what comes to light of
its own accord as the result of restoring the relationship. And it is
this result alone which is knowledge of that particular section of the
world content. If the latter were unable to express anything about
itself through that particular relationship established by thinking,
then this attempt made by thinking would fail, and one would have to
try again. All knowledge depends on man's establishing a correct
relationship between two or more elements of reality, and
comprehending the result of this.

There is no doubt that many of our attempts to grasp things by means
of thinking, fail; this is apparent not only in the history of
science, but also in ordinary life; it is just that in the simple
cases we usually encounter, the right concept replaces the wrong one
so quickly that we seldom or never become aware of the latter.

When Kant speaks of "the synthetic unity of apperception" it is
evident that he had some inkling of what we have shown here to be an
activity of thinking, the purpose of which is to organize the
world-content systematically. But the fact that he believed that the a
priori laws of pure science could be derived from the rules according
to which this synthesis takes place, shows how little this inkling
brought to his consciousness the essential task of thinking. He did
not realize that this synthetic activity of thinking is only a
preparation for discovering natural laws as such. Suppose, for
example, that we detach one content, a, from the world-picture, and
likewise another, b. If we are to gain knowledge of the law connecting
a and b, then thinking must first relate a to b so that through this
relationship the connection between them presents itself as given.
Therefore, the actual content of a law of nature is derived from the
given, and the task of thinking is merely to provide the opportunity
for relating the elements of the world-picture so that the laws
connecting them come to light. Thus there is no question of objective
laws resulting from the synthetic activity of thinking alone.

We must now ask what part thinking plays in building up our scientific
world-picture, in contrast to the merely given world-picture. Our
discussion shows that thinking provides the thought-forms to which the
laws that govern the world correspond. In the example given above, let
us assume a to be the cause and b the effect. The fact that a and b
are causally connected could never become knowledge if thinking were
not able to form the concept of causality. Yet in order to recognize,
in a given case, that a is the cause and b the effect, it is necessary
for a and b to correspond to what we understand by cause and effect.
And this is true of all other categories of thinking as well.

At this point it will be useful to refer briefly to Hume's description
of the concept of causality. Hume said that our concepts of cause and
effect are due solely to habit. We so often notice that a particular
event is followed by another that accordingly we form the habit of
thinking of them as causally connected, i.e. we expect the second
event to occur whenever we observe the first. But this viewpoint stems
from a mistaken representation of the relationship concerned in
causality. Suppose that I always meet the same people every day for a
number of days when I leave my house; it is true that I shall then
gradually come to expect the two events to follow one another, but in
this case it would never occur to me to look for a causal connection
between the other persons and my own appearance at the same spot. I
would look to quite different elements of the world-content in order
to explain the facts involved. In fact, we never do determine a causal
connection to be such from its sequence in time, but from its own
content as part of the world-content which is that of cause and
effect.

The activity of thinking is only a formal one in the upbuilding of our
scientific world-picture, and from this it follows that no cognition
can have a content which is a priori, in that it is established prior
to observation (thinking divorced from the given); rather must the
content be acquired wholly through observation. In this sense all our
knowledge is empirical. Nor is it possible to see how this could be
otherwise. Kant's judgments a priori fundamentally are not cognition,
but are only postulates. In the Kantian sense, one can always only
say: If a thing is to be the object of any kind of experience, then it
must conform to certain laws. Laws in this sense are regulations which
the subject prescribes for the objects. Yet one would expect that if
we are to attain knowledge of the given then it must be derived, not
from the subject, but from the object.

Thinking says nothing a priori about the given; it produces a
posteriori, i.e. the thought-form, on the basis of which the
conformity to law of the phenomena becomes apparent.

Seen in this light, it is obvious that one can say nothing a priori
about the degree of certainty of a judgment attained through
cognition. For certainty, too, can be derived only from the given. To
this it could be objected that observation only shows that some
connection between phenomena once occurred, but not that such a
connection must occur, and in similar cases always will occur. This
assumption is also wrong. When I recognize some particular connection
between elements of the world-picture, this connection is provided by
these elements themselves; it is not something I think into them, but
is an essential part of them, and must necessarily be present whenever
the elements themselves are present.

Only if it is considered that scientific effort is merely a matter of
combining facts of experience according to subjective principles which
are quite external to the facts themselves, -only such an outlook
could believe that a and b may be connected by one law to-day and by
another to-morrow (John Stuart Mill). Someone who recognizes that the
laws of nature originate in the given and therefore themselves
constitute the connection between the phenomena and determine them,
will not describe laws discovered by observation as merely of
comparative universality. This is not to assert that a natural law
which at one stage we assume to be correct must therefore be
universally valid as well. When a later event disproves a law, this
does not imply that the law had only a limited validity when first
discovered, but rather that we failed to ascertain it with complete
accuracy. A true law of nature is simply the expression of a
connection within the given world-picture, and it exists as little
without the facts it governs as the facts exist without the law.

We have established that the nature of the activity of cognition is to
permeate the given world-picture with concepts and ideas by means of
thinking. What follows from this fact, If the directly-given were a
totality, complete in itself, then such an elaboration of it by means
of cognition would be both impossible and unnecessary. We should then
simply accept the given as it is, and would be satisfied with it in
that form. The act of cognition is possible only because the given
contains something hidden; this hidden does not appear as long as we
consider only its immediate aspect; the hidden aspect only reveals
itself through the order that thinking brings into the given. In other
words, what the given appears to be before it has been elaborated by
thinking, is not its full totality.

This becomes clearer when we consider more closely the factors
concerned in the act of cognition. The first of these is the given.
That it is given is not a feature of the given, but is only an
expression for its relation to the second factor in the act of
cognition. Thus what the given is as such remains quite undecided by
this definition. The second factor is the conceptual content of the
given; it is found by thinking, in the act of cognition, to be
necessarily connected with the given. Let us now ask: 1) Where is the
division between given and concept? 2) And where are they united? The
answers to both of these questions are undoubtedly to be found in the
preceding discussion. The division occurs solely in the act of
cognition. In the given they are united. This shows that the
conceptual content must necessarily be a part of the given, and also
that the act of cognition consists in re-uniting the two parts of the
world-picture, which to begin with are given to cognition separated
from each other. Therefore, the given world-picture becomes complete
only through that other, indirect kind of given which is brought to it
by thinking. The immediate aspect of the world-picture reveals itself
as quite incomplete to begin with.

If, in the world-content, the thought-content were united with the
given from the first, no knowledge would exist, and the need to go
beyond the given would never arise. If, on the other hand, we were to
produce the whole content of the world in and by means of thinking
alone, no knowledge would exist either. What we ourselves produce we
have no need to know. Knowledge therefore rests upon the fact that the
world-content is originally given to us in incomplete form; it
possesses another essential aspect, apart from what is directly
present. This second aspect of the world-content, which is not
originally given, is revealed through thinking. Therefore the content
of thinking, which appears to us to be something separate, is not a
sum of empty thought-forms, but comprises determinations (categories);
however, in relation to the rest of the world-content, these
determinations represent the organizing principle. The world-content
can be called reality only in the form it attains when the two aspects
of it described above have been united through knowledge.

 

Part VIII: Theory of Knowledge Free of Assumptions and Fichte's Science of Knowledge

THEORY OF KNOWLEDGE FREE OF ASSUMPTIONS
AND FICHTE'S SCIENCE OF KNOWLEDGE

We have now defined the idea of knowledge. In the act of cognition
this idea is directly given in human consciousness. Both outer and
inner perceptions, as well as its own presence are given directly to
the "I," which is the center of consciousness. (It is hardly necessary
to say that here "center" is not meant to denote a particular theory
of consciousness, but is used merely for the sake of brevity in order
to designate consciousness as a whole.) The I feels a need to discover
more in the given than is directly contained in it. In contrast to the
given world, a second world -- the world of thinking -- rises up to meet the
I and the I unites the two through its own free decision, producing
what we have defined as the idea of knowledge. Here we see the
fundamental difference between the way the concept and the directly
given are united within human consciousness to form full reality, and
the way they are found united in the remainder of the world-content.
In the entire remainder of the world picture we must conceive an
original union which is an inherent necessity; an artificial
separation occurs only in relation to knowledge at the point where
cognition begins; cognition then cancels out this separation once
more, in accordance with the original nature of the objective world.
But in human consciousness the situation is different. Here the union
of the two factors of reality depends upon the activity of
consciousness In all other objects, the separation has no significance
for the objects themselves, but only for knowledge. Their union is
original and their separation is derived from the union. Cognition
separates them only because its nature is such that it cannot grasp
their union without having first separated them. But the concept and
the given reality of consciousness are originally separated, and their
union is derived from their original separation; this is why cognition
has the character described here. Just because, in consciousness, idea
and given are necessarily separated, for consciousness the whole of
reality divides into these two factors; and again, just because
consciousness can unite them only by its own activity, it can arrive
at full reality only by performing the act of cognition. All other
categories (ideas), whether or not they are grasped in cognition, are
necessarily united with their corresponding forms of the given. But
the idea of knowledge can be united with its corresponding given only
by the activity of consciousness. Consciousness as a reality exists
only if it produces itself. I believe that I have now cleared the
ground sufficiently to enable us to understand Fichte's Science of
Knowledge through recognition of the fundamental mistake contained in
it. Of all Kant's successors, Fichte is the one who felt most keenly
that only a theory of consciousness could provide the foundation for
knowledge in any form, yet he never came to recognize why this is so.
He felt that what I have called the second step in the theory of
knowledge, and which I formulated as a postulate, must be actively
performed by the I. This can be seen, for example, from these words:

"The science of knowledge, insofar as it is to be a systematic
science, is built up in the same manner in which all possible
sciences, insofar as they are systematic, are built up, that is,
through a determination of freedom; which freedom, in the science of
knowledge, is particularly determined: to become conscious of the
general manner of acting of the intelligence. . . . By means of this
free act, something which is in itself already form, namely, the
necessary act of the intelligence, is taken up as content and put into
a new form, that is, the form of knowledge or of consciousness....''

What does Fichte here mean by the "acting of intelligence" if we
express in clear concepts what he dimly felt? Nothing other than the
production of the idea of knowledge, taking place in consciousness.
Had Fichte become clear about this, then he would have formulated the
above principle as follows: A science of knowledge has the task of
bringing to consciousness the act of cognition, insofar as it is still
an unconscious activity of the I; it must show that to objectify the
idea of knowledge is a necessary deed of the I.

In his attempt to define the activity of the I, Fichte comes to the
conclusion: "The I as absolute subject is something, the being
(essence) of which consists merely in postulating its own existence.''
For Fichte, this postulation of the I is the primal unconditioned
deed, "it is the basis of all consciousness." Therefore, in Fichte's
sense too, the I can begin to be active only through an absolute
original decision. But for Fichte it is impossible to find the actual
content for this original activity postulated by the I. He had nothing
toward which this activity could be directed or by which it could be
determined. The I is to do something, but what is it to do? Fichte did
not formulate the concept of knowledge which the I must produce, and
in consequence he strove in vain to define any further activity of the
I beyond its original deed. In fact, he finally stated that to
investigate any such further activity does not lie within the scope of
theory. In his deduction of representation, he does not begin from any
absolute activity of the I or of the not-I, but he starts from a state
of determination which, at the same time, itself determines, because
in his view nothing else is, or can be contained directly in
consciousness. What in turn determines the state of determination is
left completely undecided in his theory; and because of this
uncertainty, one is forced beyond theory into practical application of
the science of knowledge. However, through this statement Fichte
completely abolishes all cognition. For the practical activity of the
I belongs to a different sphere altogether. The postulate which I put
forward above can clearly be produced by the I only in an act which is
free, which is not first determined; but when the I cognizes, the
important point is that the decision to do so is directed toward
producing the idea of cognition. No doubt the I can do much else
through free decision. But if epistemology is to be the foundation of
all knowledge, the decisive point is not to have a definition of an I
that is "free," but of an I that "cognizes." Fichte has allowed
himself to be too much influenced by his subjective inclinations to
present the freedom of the human personality in the clearest possible
light. Harms, in his address, On the Philosophy of Fichte, (p.15)
rightly says: "His world-view is predominantly and exclusively
ethical, and his theory of knowledge has no other feature." Cognition
would have no task to fulfill whatever if all spheres of reality were
given in their totality. But the I, so long as it has not been
inserted by thinking into the systematic whole of the world-picture,
also exists as something merely directly given, so that it does not
suffice to point to its activity. Yet Fichte is of the opinion that
where the I is concerned, all that is necessary is to seek and find
it. "We have to search for the absolute, first, and unconditioned
fundamental principle of human knowledge. It cannot be proven nor
determined if it is to be absolute first principle.' We have seen that
the only instance where proof and definitions are not required is in
regard to the content of pure logic. The I, however, belongs to
reality, where it is necessary to establish the presence of this or
that category within the given. This Fichte does not do. And this is
why he gave his science of knowledge a mistaken form. Zeller remarks
that the logical formulas by which Fichte attempts to arrive at the
concept of the I only lightly hide his predetermined purpose to reach
his goal at any cost, so that the I could become his starting point.
These words refer to the first form in which Fichte presented his
science of knowledge in 1794. When it is realized that, owing to the
whole trend of his philosophy, Fichte could not be content with any
starting point for knowledge other than an absolute decree, it becomes
clear that he has only two possibilities for making this beginning
appear intelligible. One possibility is to focus the attention on one
or another of the empirical activities of consciousness, and then
crystallize out the pure concept of the I by gradually stripping away
everything that did not originally belong to consciousness. The other
possibility is to start directly with the original activity of the I,
and then to bring its nature to light through self-contemplation and
self-observation. Fichte chose the first possibility at the beginning
of his philosophical path, but gradually went over to the second.

On the basis of Kant's synthesis of "transcendental apperception"
Fichte came to the conclusion that the activity of the I consists
entirely in combining the material of experience into the form of
judgment. To judge means to combine predicate with subject. This is
stated purely formally in the expression: a = a. This proposition
could not be made if the unknown factor x which unites the two a's did
not rest on an absolute ability of the I, to postulate. For the
proposition does not mean a exists, but rather: if a exists, then so
does a. In other words there is no question of postulating a
absolutely. In order, therefore, to arrive at something which is valid
in a quite straightforward way, the only possibility is to declare the
act of postulating as such to be absolute. Therefore, while a is
conditional the postulation of a is itself unconditional. This
postulation, however, is a deed of the I. To the I is ascribed the
absolute and unconditional ability to postulate. In the proposition
a=a, one a is postulated only because the other a is already
postulated, and indeed is postulated by the I. "If a is postulated in
the I, then it is postulated, or then it is. This connection is
possible only on condition that there exists in the I something which
is always constant, something that leads over from one a to the other.
The above mentioned x is based on this constant element. The I which
postulates the one a is the same as the I which postulates the other
a. This means that I = I. This proposition expressed in the form of a
judgment: If the I exists, then the I exists, is meaningless. The I is
not postulated by presupposing another I; it presupposes itself. This
means: the I simply is, absolutely and unconditionally. The
hypothetical form of a judgment, which is the form of all judgments,
when an absolute I is not presupposed, here is transformed into a
principle of absolute existence: I simply am. Fichte also expresses
this as follows: "The I originally and absolutely postulates its own
being. This whole deduction of Fichte's is clearly nothing but a kind
of pedagogical discussion, the aim of which is to guide his reader to
the point where knowledge of the unconditional activity of the I dawns
in him. His aim is to bring the activity of the I emphatically home to
the reader, for without this activity there is no I.

Let us now survey Fichte's line of thought once more. On closer
inspection one sees that there is a break in its sequence; a break,
indeed, of a kind that casts doubt upon the correctness of his view of
the original deed of the I. What is essentially absolute when the I
postulates? The judgment is made: If a exists, then so does a. The a
is postulated by the I. There can, therefore, be no doubt about the
postulation as such. But even if the I is unconditioned insofar as its
own activity is concerned, nevertheless the I cannot but postulate
something. It cannot postulate the "activity, as such, by itself," but
only a definite activity. In short: the postulation must have a
content. However, the I cannot derive this content from itself, for by
itself it can do no more than eternally postulate its own postulation.
Therefore there must be something which is produced by this
postulation, by this absolute activity of the I. Unless the I sets to
work on something given which it postulates, it can do "nothing" and
hence cannot postulate either. Fichte's own principle actually shows
this: The I postulates its existence. This existence is a category.
This means we have arrived at our principle: The activity of the I is
to postulate, as a free decision, the concepts and ideas of the given.
Fichte arrives at his conclusion only because he unconsciously sets
out to prove that the I "exists." Had he worked out the concept of
cognition, he would then have arrived at the true starting point of a
theory of knowledge, namely: The I postulates cognition. Because
Fichte is not clear as to what it is that determines the activity of
the I, he simply characterizes this activity as the postulation of
being, of existence. In doing so, he also limits the absolute activity
of the I. If the I is only unconditioned in its ''postulation of

existence.'' everything else the I does must be conditioned. But then,
all possible ways to pass from what is unconditioned to the
conditioned are blocked. If the I is unconditioned only in the one
direction described, it immediately ceases to be possible for the I to
postulate, through an absolute act, anything but its own being. This
makes it necessary to indicate the basis on which all the other
activities of the I depend. Fichte sought for this in vain, as we have
already seen.

This is why he turned to the other of the two possibilities indicated
for deducing the I. As early as 1797, in his First Introduction to the
Science of Knowledge, he recommends self-observation as the right
method for attaining knowledge of the essential being of the I:

"Be aware of yourself, withdraw your attention from all that surrounds
you and turn it toward your inner being -- this is the first demand that
philosophy makes on the pupil. What is essential is not outside of
you, but solely within yourself.

To introduce the science of knowledge in this way is indeed a great
advance on his earlier introduction. In self-observation, the activity
of the I is actually seen, not one-sidedly turned in a particular
direction, not as merely postulating existence, but revealing many
aspects of itself as it strives to grasp the directly given
world-content in thinking. Self-observation reveals the I engaged in
the activity of building up the world-picture by combining the given
with concepts. However, someone who has not elaborated the above
considerations for himself, and who therefore does not know that the I
only arrives at the full content of reality when it approaches the
given with its thought-forms, for him, the process of knowledge
appears to consist in spinning the world out of the I itself. This is
why Fichte sees the world-picture more and more as a construction of
the I. He emphasizes ever more strongly that for the science of
knowledge it is essential to awaken the faculty for watching the I
while it constructs the world. He who is able to do this appears to
Fichte to be at a higher stage of knowledge than someone who is able
to see only the construction, the finished product. He who considers
only the world of objects does not recognize that they have first been
created by the I. He who observes the I while it constructs, sees the
foundation of the finished world-picture; he knows the means by which
it has come into being, and it appears to him as the result of
presuppositions which for him are given. Ordinary consciousness sees
only what is postulated, what is in some way or other determined; it
does not provide insight into the premises, into the reasons why
something is postulated in just the way it is, and not otherwise. For
Fichte it is the task of a completely new sense organ to mediate
knowledge of these premises. This he expresses most clearly in his
Introductory Lecture to the Science of Knowledge, delivered at Berlin
University in the autumn of 1813:

"This science presupposes a completely new inner sense organ, through
which a new world is revealed which does not exist for the ordinary
man at all." "The world revealed by this new sense, and therefore also
the sense itself, is so far clearly defined: it consists in seeing the
premises on which is based the judgment that 'something is'; that is,
seeing the foundation of existence which, just because it is the
foundation, is in itself nothing else and cannot be defined.''

Here too, Fichte lacks clear insight into the content of the activity
carried out by the I. And he never attained this insight. That is why
his science of knowledge could never become what he intended it to be:
a philosophical foundation for science in general in the form of a
theory of knowledge. Had he once recognized that the activity of the I
can only be postulated by the I itself, this insight would also have
led him to see that the activity must likewise be determined by the I
itself. This, however, can occur only by a content being given to the
otherwise purely formal activity of the I. As this content must be
introduced by the I itself into its otherwise quite undetermined
activity, the activity as such must also be determined by the I itself
in accordance with the I's own nature. Otherwise its activity could
not be postulated by the I, but at most by a "thing-in-itself" within
the I, whose instrument the I would be. Had Fichte attempted to
discover how the I determines its own activity, he would have arrived
at the concept of knowledge which is to be produced by the I. Fichte's
science of knowledge proves that even the acutest thinker cannot
successfully contribute to any field of knowledge if he is unable to
come to the right thought-form (category, idea) which, when
supplemented by the given, constitutes reality. Such a thinker is like
a person to whom wonderful melodies are played, but he does not hear
them because he lacks an ear for music. Consciousness, as given, can
be described only by someone who knows how to take possession of the
"idea of consciousness."

Fichte once came very near the truth. In his Introduction to the
Science of Knowledge (1797), he says that there are two theoretical
systems dogmatism -- in which the I is determined by the objects; and
idealism, in which the objects are determined by the I. In his opinion
both are possible world-views. Both are capable of being built up into
a consistent system. But the adherents of dogmatism must renounce the
independence of the I and make it dependent on the "thing-in-itself."
For the adherents of idealism, the opposite is the case. Which of the
two systems a philosopher is to choose, Fichte leaves completely to
the preference of the individual. But if one wishes the I to retain
its independence, then one will cease to believe in external things
and devote oneself to idealism.

This line of thought fails to consider one thing, namely that the I
cannot reach any choice or decision which has some real foundation if
it does not presuppose something which enables it to do so. Everything
determined by the I remains empty and without content if the I does
not find something that is full of content and determined through and
through, which then makes it possible for the I to determine the given
and, in doing so, also enables it to choose between idealism and
dogmatism. This something which is permeated with content through and
through is, however, the world of thinking. And to determine the given
by means of thinking is to cognize. No matter from what aspect Fichte
is considered, we shall find that his line of thought gains power and
life when we think of the activity of the I, which he presents as grey
and empty of content, as filled and organized by what we have called
the process of cognition.

The I is freely able to become active of itself, and therefore it can
also produce the category of cognition through self-determination; in
the rest of the world, by objective necessity the categories are
connected with the given corresponding to them. It must be the task of
ethics and metaphysics to investigate the nature of this free
self-determination, on the basis of our theory of knowledge. These
sciences will also have to discuss whether the I is able to objectify
ideas other than those of cognition. The present discussion shows that
the I is free when it cognizes, when it objectifies the ideas of
cognition. For when the directly given and the thought-form belonging
to it are united by the I in the process of cognition, then the union
of these two elements of reality, which otherwise would forever remain
separated in consciousness, can only take place through a free act.

Our discussion sheds a completely new light on critical idealism.
Anyone who has acquainted himself intimately with Fichte's system will
know that it was a point of vital importance for this philosopher to
uphold the principle that nothing from the external world can enter
the I, that nothing takes place in the I which is not originally
postulated by the I itself. Yet it is beyond all doubt that no
idealism can derive from the I that form of the world-content which is
here described as the directly given. This form of the world-content
can only be given; it can never be constructed out of thinking. One
need only consider that if all the colors were given us with the
exception of one single shade, even then we could not begin to provide
that shade out of the I alone. We can form a picture of distant
regions that we have never seen, provided we have once personally
experienced, as given, the various elements needed to form the
picture. Then, out of the single facts given us, we combine the
picture according to given information. We should strive in vain to
invent for ourselves even a single perceptual element that has never
appeared within our sphere of the given. It is, however, one thing
merely to be aware of the given world: it is quite another to
recognize its essential nature. This latter, though intimately
connected with the world-content, does not become clear to us unless
we ourselves build up reality out of the given and the activity of
thinking. The essential What of the given is postulated for the I only
through the I itself. Yet the I would have no occasion to postulate
within itself the nature of something given if it did not first find
itself confronted by a completely undetermined given. Therefore, what
is postulated by the I as the nature and being of the world is not
postulated without the I, but through it.

The true shape is not the first in which reality comes before the I,
but the shape the I gives it. That first shape, in fact, has no
significance for the objective world; it is significant only as a
basis for the process of cognition. Thus it is not that shape which
the theory of knowledge gives to the world which is subjective; the
subjective shape is that in which the I at first encounters it. If,
like Volkelt and others, one wishes to call this given world
"experience," then one will have to say: The world-picture which,
owing to the constitution of our consciousness, appears to us in a
subjective form as expe