DESCARTES

RATIONALISM (DUALISTIC)
Born in La Haye, France Ren Descartes, the son of a judge, was educated by the Jesuits at the famous college of La Flche and
at the University of Poitiers, where he studied law. From 1617-23 he was a mercenary in various armies. He lived in Paris from
1625 until 1628 and then in the Netherlands. He liked warmth and working at night. In the winter of 1649 he was invited by
Queen Christina of Sweden to act as her tutor, but it would seem he was unable to cope with having to get up every morning at
five and succumbed to a fatal fever.
METHODOLOGY
[1] Faced with a revival of interest in Greek Scepticism in the sixteenth century after the re-publication of the works of Sextus
Empiricus, which tended to undermine metaphysics and religion, and with what he regarded as the inadequacies of scholastic
Aristotelianism, Descartes resolved to search for a new and firm foundation for truth through the exercise of pure reason rather
than relying on faith or authority. He distinguished two basic capacities or operations of the mind: intuition and deduction. By
intuition he means roughly an intellectual, that is, non-sensuous vision of the object of our understanding, which is clear and
distinct [a] so that we can be in no doubt about it. (That we are aware of having a pain is clear: that it can be located, say, in our
leg, makes the idea distinct). Deduction consists in the logical derivation of conclusions from the first principles given to us in
intuition [a]. Descartes claims further that with practice we can grasp the whole process of premiss to conclusion by intuition
alone. If these operations are to be employed correctly, a 'method' is needed; and in his Discourse on Method he sets out four
Rules (they are broken up into five and a summary in the Rules for the Direction of the Mind):
(1) To accept nothing as true which is not clear and distinct and is open to doubt. He is thus trying to 'out doubt' the sceptics in
looking for something which is certain. (This is called Descartes' methodological or hyperbolic doubt [b]. )
(2) To break up complex difficulties into their simplest parts. He calls this 'the method of resolution' or analysis (and 'the order of
knowing' or discovery).
(3) To start with intuitions of the simplest and most understandable objects, and to deduce, trace back step by step to knowledge
of all the others. This is the 'method of composition' or synthesis ('the order of demonstration' [c] ).
(4) To ensure that his survey is so comprehensive that nothing has been overlooked.
Clearly Descartes' model is mathematics, though in mathematics no justification is given for its first principles. Indeed,
underlying these rules is his view that despite the apparent differences between the various sciences (physics as opposed to ethics,
for example) there is but one scientific method applicable to them all, and that there is one universal science grounded in
fundamental rational metaphysical principles and not sensory experience. He expressly rejects 'animistic' and 'naturalistic'
approaches [d].

KNOWLEDGE
[2] Descartes' method of analysis can be seen at work particularly in the Meditations [1 and 2]. Much of what he had believed to
be true when young, he says, has been proved to be false. Sense-experience is often unreliable. He therefore supposes that nothing
in our experience is immune from error. His present seemingly real experiences of the world, such as his sitting by the fire, may
be but a dream. Even the apparently certain propositions of mathematics, for example, 2 + 2 = 4, may be false. He has a firm
belief in an all-powerful God: but perhaps this too is an illusion. Maybe there is an 'evil demon' who causes him to be deceived in
everything he believes. Can nothing then be known? What is his answer to the sceptics? There is one certain and indubitable truth,
Descartes says, namely, that in the very act of doubting he is affirming his existence as at least one who doubts; for to doubt is to
think, and he must exist to think: "I think, therefore I am" (cogito, ergo sum) [Discourse 4]; or, as he expresses it later in the
Meditations [2], "I am, 1 exist, is necessarily true, every time I express it or conceive of it in my mind". He thus claims that he
knows he exists whenever he thinks and, moreover, that he knows himself to be a thing that thinks, a thinking substance, (and for
Descartes this includes imagining, perceiving, feeling, willing even though he has 'thought away' his body). This knowledge is
characterized by clarity and distinctness [a].
What is now to be said about his sense-experience which points to the existence of an external world? [Meditations 2 and 3.]. The
ideas (or impressions) of external material things as causes, he says, are 'adventitious'. These ideas, which are produced by means
of our our sense organs, are unclear and confused but supposedly correspond to real objects. He also has 'factitious' ideas (such as
that of a unicorn), which do not correspond to anything real and which he has himself invented; and innate ideas. By 'innate'
Descartes means those ideas we have which are not derived from experience; they come from within the intellect or
understanding. (In a wider sense all ideas are innate for Descartes, in that we possess the capacity to experience, say, colour or
smell.) Indeed it is possible that all his ideas belong to but one of these categories. How can he tell? What is their origin?
Adventitious ideas cannot be said to give him genuine knowledge unless he can find some guarantee that they are veridical.
Descartes argues that such a guarantee can be provided by a Perfect Being, a benevolent and non-deceiving God; and that he has
knowledge that such a Being exists in that he claims to possess an innate idea of Him, which he could not himself have made.
Given the existence of God, Descartes is in a position to reinstate the external world [b] he had rejected in the course of his
methodic doubt, and to accept that the buildings, trees, and other people he perceives actually exist.
Let us suppose then that there is a veracious God. How, according to Descartes, do we get our knowledge of the external world?
Indeed, what do we know about it? Suppose we observe a piece of wax. [Meditation 2.] It is hard, sweet-smelling, and so on. But
when heated it loses these qualities: its smell disappears, it melts, its shape changes. Nevertheless, Descartes says that by an
intuition of the mind we judge that it is the same extended wax which has undergone these various changes. We have an innate,
clear and distinct idea of matter as extension (a primary quality). Thus we do not acquire knowledge of material bodies through
either our imagination or the senses. Rather, our sense experience serves only to draw our attention to and make explicit this
innate concept. It is through the intellect that we acquire genuine knowledge of the essences of things. Moreover, secondary
qualities such as colour, smell, and the like, do not really exist in corporeal things. They are, as it were, 'powers' possessed by
objects, and our ideas are not therefore 'likenesses' or representations [c].
Descartes also offers an account of how we perceive and estimate distance [Dioptrics]. He argues that the distance of an object
from us can be determined by a consideration of the angles of the triangle with its base as the line between our two eyes and its
apex as the point of covergence with the perceived object. The smaller the angle between side and base the more distant is the
object. For Descartes this is a matter of mathematical necessity; for he appeals to a geometry which he considers to be innate [d].
What he has to say about the actual nature of the mind and body is best considered as part of his metaphysics.

METAPHYSICS
[3] Substance for Descartes is that in which attributes inhere, as properties exist in a subject; and which can exist in or by itself
alone [Arguments demonstrating the existence of God, Defn V]. Strictly, therefore, there is only one substance the Perfect
Being or God, who is infinite, self-sufficient, omnipotent, and independent, the first cause. However, he also distinguishes two
finite dependent substances, mind/ soul and body, that is, matter, each of which has its own defining attribute [a]. His first proof
for God's existence is set out in Meditations 3. Obviously he cannot begin with sense-experience of the external world. Instead he
appeals to the clear and distinct idea of God he has in his mind. Unfortunately he uses somewhat obscure scholastic terminology.
Substances, he says, have more 'formal' reality than accidents. A red thing has to exist for there to be redness. God, if He exists,
must have more formal reality than finite substances. But Descartes also talks of 'objective' reality. An idea of a complex machine
'represents' objectively a real machine which, if it exists, must contain as much objective reality as the idea of it. Now, the idea of
an infinite Being (God) could not have been produced by a finite being (Descartes). Indeed, to recognise himself as finite requires
a prior concept of infinite being. The idea of an infinite being contains more objective reality than any idea of a finite being
(because as infinite it must contain more perfections or 'complexity': indeed it has the objective property of absolute perfection).
So it must have been put into his mind by a being who not only is as objectively real (or more so) as the idea but also contains as
much as or more formal reality than he, Descartes, possesses. Put more simply, what Descartes means is that the idea of an
infinite being must be caused by a being which has more reality (a) as an existent being, (b) in respect of its properties [b]. A
being who is absolute perfection therefore must exist. Descartes further argues that his own existence can be accounted for
ultimately only by reference to God. If he had caused himself, he would also have caused the idea he has of perfection; he would
have to be the perfect being. The cause of his being must contain more reality than he himself does as effect. To avoid an infinite
regress he must therefore suppose that the being who sustains him in existence must be perfect and infinite, namely, God.
Descartes offers a second, 'ontological' proof [Meditations 5]. The essence of a triangle is to have three angles which add up to
two right angles. But although we have the idea of a triangle, there may not be any triangles in existence. The idea of God is of a
being who possesses all perfections. But according to Descartes existence is a perfection; so God must exist, otherwise He would
lack an attribute and could not be God. Thus Descartes is saying that we have to accept that God exists as soon as we grasp what
constitutes His essence or nature [c].
What then of the two finite created and dependent substances? Descartes is a committed dualist. Mind and body are intrinsically
and fundamentally different in their nature, and different kinds of explanation are required to account for their behaviour [See
Meditations 2 and 6]. Mind or soul is a spiritual substance. It is without shape and does not occupy space; it has no extension. Its
essence is thought, that is, it is characterized by 'states' comprising understanding, perceiving, feeling, willing. Individual souls
are created by God, and their activity is explicable by reference to ends and thus in terms of final causes though we can have
no knowledge of God's purposes [d]. Body, by contrast, does not think, is material and extended, and is in motion or at rest. The
behaviour of bodies may be explained mechanically in terms of efficient causes and the laws of nature which are ultimately
reducible to mathematics. The total quantity of motion in matter never changes, and originates from God as the first cause [e].
Descartes asserts also that extension cannot be distinguished from the space or 'internal place' a body occupies. There is therefore
no empty space or vacuum, because a distance between one piece of matter and another would itself constitute extension. It seems
then that all individual corporeal things are continuous with each other but manifest greater or lesser amounts of motion in their
parts. There can therefore be no atoms except in our thinking about an extended object. And the world's extension must be
indefinite. As for time, this is explained by Descartes as a 'mode of thinking' by which the duration of things can be measured [f].
Time is discontinuous because the parts of duration do not depend on each other and do not coexist. God also conserves the
universe in being through what is in effect a perpetual re-creation, giving material things and souls continuity of existence, which
they would otherwise lack because of the discontinuity of time and motion.
Now, given Descartes' dualist thesis, how can he account for the interaction of mind and body? Indeed, how can two different
substances, whose essences are respectively non-extended spirituality and extended corporeality, and whose behaviour is to be
explained in terms of respectively final and efficient causation, interact at all? The soul, he says, is lodged in the body but not
just as a pilot in a ship is, but "very closely united to, and so intermingled with it that I seem to form a complete whole with it"
[Meditations. 6]. In a letter to Princess Elizabeth of Bohemia [28 June 1643] he even refers to this union of body and soul as "a
kind of third substance, not known clearly but rather lived through, put into practice". But in general his solution, such as it is, is
to retain the real distinction between mind and body but to allow for the effecting of an interaction in the brain, where the soul
influences the 'animal spirits' (material particles) of the pineal gland to modify the direction of bodily movements. Conversely
bodily movements ('actions') might excite 'passions' in the soul, that is, perceptions and emotions caused by the body (as
contrasted with actions of the soul itself, which are clear and distinct perceptions of its own feelings) [Passions of the Soul I,
passim]. Animal spirits are also involved in memory recall in that they seek physical traces in the brain. It follows that while
Descartes believes the soul's immortality to be certain (though not demonstrable) he has to accept that memories are lost after
death [g].
The real distinction between mind and body also allows Descartes to preserve human freedom. While physics deals with
extension and motion, the behaviour of which is explained in terms of efficient causality and is predictable, freedom is an aspect
of the will. Our very capacity to doubt as thinking substances presupposes freedom to choose [Meditations 6] [h]. However, he
does not seem to have appreciated the difficulties for the concept of freedom implicit in his dualism. Rather he is concerned more
to reconcile human free will with God's preordination, and in the event he provides inconsistent solutions oscillating between
some version of predestination and the view that although God foresees how a man will choose he does not himself determine that
choice. Similarly God, who is not a deceiver, cannot be held responsible for human error which Descartes attributes to misuse
of the will [i]. The will, he says, is "much more wide-ranging and extensive than the understanding" and he does not confine it to
the same limits, extending to things he does not understand [Meditations 4]. So if we are to use the will properly and strengthen it,
if we are to avoid assenting to a doubtful proposition, or resist undesirable passions, we must have recourse to natural knowledge
assisted by Divine grace.

CRITICAL SUMMARY
In so far as they made a clean break with mediaeval scholasticism either Bacon or Hobbes might seem to have a better claim than
Descartes to be regarded as the 'Father of Modern Philosophy'. However, the description is probably justified by Descartes'
methodological scepticism and his quest for an indisputable foundation on which to reconstruct the edifice of knowledge and
in the light of which his own limited use of scholastic terminology and arguments can be appreciated. Nevertheless, for all its
greatness and originality there are many difficulties with his philosophy.
(1) Perhaps the most obvious criticism that can be made is that both the method and his postulation of the 'cogito' as his basic
principle fail to 'deliver the goods', as it were. Many commentators have argued that he makes a number of assumptions which are
inconsistent with his scepticism, for example, that no clear distinction can be made between the waking and dreaming states, and
that because some of our perceptions may be illusory we must doubt all perceptions. But even if these kinds of difficulties can be
dealt with, and universal doubt accepted as a working hypothesis, the 'cogito' itself, and the use Descartes makes of it, is open to
serious objections. (a) The establishment of the 'cogito' as the sole indubitable assertion presupposes articulation in terms of a
language and therefore, it is argued, a 'public' frame of reference in which such a language can meaningfully operate; and this
would seem to be inconsistent with the privacy of the contents of the thinking from which Descartes starts. (b) 'I think, therefore I
am' is not a necessary proposition; I might not have existed. And while it is in some sense absurd to doubt it, the 'cogito' does not
justify Descartes' claim that the self is a thinking substance. (If the self is equated with the sequence of ideas, he must cease to
exist when unconscious. If it is that in which the ideas inhere, we can have no knowledge of it.) It follows of course that a
'foundationalist' theory which seeks to ground our knowledge claims in the 'private' contents of the mind is unlikely to be
successful (as against accounts which look for criteria for the justification of statements).
(2) Descartes' criterion of truth, 'clarity and distinctness', seems to offer only a subjective certainty; and Descartes himself requires
a veracious God to underpin any inferences he draws from it. He has been accused of circularity in allegedly using this criterion to
prove God's existence. This objection is probably not sustainable: but he does seem to need God to support the reliability of
memory and therefore a chain of reasoning until the chain can be intuited as a whole and its necessity revealed.
(3) From a wider standpoint it can be argued (and Aquinas, the empiricists, and Kant all concurred in this view) that 'pure'
rationalism as such cannot provide indubitable truths about the world. Descartes' proofs for the existence of God in particular can
be rejected on this ground. There are also internal difficulties with the arguments themselves; and they are not helped by the
somewhat obscure scholastic terminology he employs ('formal' and 'objective reality', 'adequacy', for example). As to the first
(causal) argument, unless 'existence' is taken to be a perfect attribute of God, it can establish (at the very most if at all) that the
idea of God is caused only by some finite being which possesses more formal and objective reality than the idea; it does not prove
the existence of an infinite God. The supposition that existence is a perfection, which is also central to the second (ontological)
argument, is open to standard objections. This is a serious matter for Descartes; for if God's existence cannot be proved, then his
whole philosophy collapses back into the privacy of the thinking self.
(4) Perhaps the most common criticism of Descartes relates to his dualism and to his attempt to deal with the problem of
interaction between the two different kinds of substance: non-extended spiritual mind and extended matter. It is difficult to accept
(in the light of modern neurobiology and cognitive psychology) his solution which is couched in terms of 'animal spirits' and the
pineal gland. However, it should be noted that a recent commentator, D. M. Clarke, has argued cogently that Descartes should not
be regarded as a substance dualist at all a position that defines mind and body as having no common properties (thereby ruling
out any possibility of an explanation of interaction). The concept of 'as such' substance is in fact empty; we know only its
properties. Descartes should therefore be described more accurately as a property dualist.
(5) Given that God does exist and that the 'essential nature' of external bodies can be known through the reason, Descartes'
account of error that it occurs when the will goes beyond what is given in the understanding may have some justification:
but many philosophers would argue that error occurs as a result of misdirection of judgement; judgement should be grounded in
the senses, a view that cuts at the heart of Descartes' rationalist premisses.

SPINOZA (1632 1677)

RATIONALISM (MONISTIC)
Baruch (later Benedictus) Spinoza was born in Amsterdam of Portuguese-Jewish descent (his father was a merchant) and
educated at the Jewish school there. Suspected of heretical views he was expelled from the Jewish community in 1656. From then
on he earned his living by teaching and grinding lenses, while deepening his study of the classics and philosophy with the help of
a former Jesuit. He moved to Rijnsburg near Leiden in 1660 and later to The Hague in 1670 when he published anonymously his
Theological-Political Treatise, which, however, brought him into conflict with the Calvinists and the civil authorities because of
his defence of freedom of conscience. As a result he did not publish his Ethics. He refused the offer of a chair at Heidelberg
University so as to preserve his leisure for research, but was in regular correspondence with many of the principal philosophers
and scientists of his day. He was a man of wide intellectual interests. He died from pulmonary consumption, probably caused by
glass dust.

METHODOLOGY
[1] Spinoza presented his philosophy in the manner of a geometrical proof (more geometrico), consisting of logical deductions of
conclusions from definitions and self-evident axioms appertaining to the whole universe. He regarded these definitions as
expressing clear and distinct ideas and therefore certainly true. And truth for Spinoza is simultaneously and inseparably logical
(conclusions being derived necessarily from supposedly true definitions) and metaphysical. He was critical of empiricism and
nominalism [a]. The derivation of conclusions from premisses is to be understood as exhibiting how an effect follows from a
cause. He therefore assimilated the causal relation to logical implication and rejected final causes, arguing that an understanding
of efficient causes is all that is required for an explanation of events [b].

METAPHYSICS / PSYCHOLOGY
[2] [gen. 2] Spinoza's metaphysics parallels his logic; and his system can be thought of as an attempt to provide an explanation
and knowledge of all reality through pure reason. (He sees no incompatibility between philosophical reason and the ordinary
person's belief, which may make use of allegory [a], as they have different purposes: but the intellect takes precedence.) The
starting point is the idea of infinite substance, which he identifies with "God or Nature" (Deus sive Natura) [b]. Now substance is
"cause of itself' [Ethics I, def. 1], that is, it is not caused or therefore explained by reference to any cause external to itself; it is "in
itself and conceived through itself" [I, def. 3]. And since knowledge of an effect involves knowledge of its cause substance knows
itself through itself alone. There can be only one substance and this must be necessarily infinite [I, 8]. This is because if it were
finite it would be limited by another substance; and that second substance would have to have different attributes (these being
what the intellect perceives as constituting a substance's essence or nature [I, def. 4]), otherwise the two substances would be
indistinguishable [I, 4 and 5]. The infinite substance, God, must possess infinite attributes (by which Spinoza seems to mean it has
an unlimited number of them), because it has infinite reality or being. Furthermore it must necessarily exist [I, 11]. This is because
existence belongs to the nature of substance [I, 7]. We can see this in the clear and distinct idea we have of substance and must
include in its definition. Moreover, as there is only one substance, which is infinite, it would be imperfect if it did not exist. In it
existence and essence are identical [I, 20]. Spinoza thus subscribes to a version of the ontological argument [c]. The infinite
substance, God or Nature, considered as active, while cause-of-itself is also cause of what Spinoza calls modes. A mode he
defines [I, def. 5], as 'modifications' (affectiones) of a substance [d], or that which is in something else through which it may be
conceived; it is not self-dependent, ). As cause, the one substance is natura naturans: the modes as 'caused' constitute natura
naturata [I, 29]. He distinguishes between infinite and eternal modes and finite modes. Infinite modes, which follow from the
"necessity of divine nature", are divided into immediate and mediate modes [I, 21-23]. Thus we have an immediate mode of God
under the attribute of extension. This is the total amount of 'energy' (or motion and rest) possessed by the infinite substance [II,
13]. The immediate mode under the attribute of thought is God's absolute understanding [II, 1 and 3] [e]. As for the mediate
modes, these constitute the totality which makes up Nature, that is, the total system of bodies (under the attribute of extension
Spinoza calls it "the face or aspect of the Universe as a whole") and the total system of minds (under the attribute of thought
though he does not explicitly say this). Nature/ God does of course have infinite attributes: but Spinoza implies that thought and
extension are the only ones through which human beings can apprehend the one substance [see II, 7]. Moreover, finite categories
such as personality cannot be applied to God the infinite substance [f].
What then of individual beings? These are the finite modes as modifications or expressions of Nature under the attributes of
thought and extension; and as such must be regarded as caused immediately by God, the "indwelling and not the transient cause
of all things" [I, 18]. It follows that just as Nature as a whole can be conceived by us under the two attributes of thought and
extension so individual things are to be considered under the same attributes. Thus far only can we think of humans as consisting
of mind and body [see especially II, 13 and 14]. In reality they are two aspects of the one entity the 'mind' being but the 'idea'
of the body (which is its 'ideatum'). "The order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of things" [II, 7].
Moreover, to each part of the body there corresponds a particular idea. In this way Spinoza claims to have avoided the Cartesian
problem of interaction [g].
[3] As we have seen, mind and body are for Spinoza the same thing but conceived under the two attributes of thought and
extension respectively. But whereas in sense-experience the body may be supposed to be 'passive', he says that every individual
thing also possesses an active capacity. He calls this 'endeavour' (conatus): the power a thing has "to persist in its being" by virtue
of its essence [III, 6 and 7] [a]. By this he means the tendency or drive all things possess which secures their self-preservation.
Referred to both body and mind this endeavour is called 'appetite'. Man's consciousness of this tendency is 'desire' (cupiditas).
Spinoza also makes use of the concept of conatus to explain the emotions. [III, 11ff.]. He first supposes that according as to
whether our power of action over our body increases or decreases (depending on external circumstances) so our awareness of this
increases or decreases the mind's activity, that is, in terms of the degree of logical connection of its ideas. Consciousness of
achieving "greater perfection" is called pleasure; while awareness of a move to lower perfection is pain. These two terms are used
in a wide sense and include many kinds of emotions; and Spinoza derives in turn others such as love and hate, and accounts for
them in terms of association [b]. Thus, for example, we are said to love external things which we have come to associate with
pleasure. He makes a further distinction between active and passive emotions. To the extent that they are affected by emotions
they are passive and inadequate ideas. However, if the mind at the same time understands its body's modifications it is active
its ideas adequate. As soon as we form a clear and distinct idea of a passion it ceases to be one [V, III]. To the extent that a man
fails to scontrol his emotions he is said to be in servitude.
In so far as individual beings are finite modes of the one infinite Substance, it would seem that all that occurs (natura naturata)
must follow necessarily from the "necessity of divine nature" [I, 29, note] though individuals are contingent in that they are
dependent on other things and not self-caused. God, however, as natura naturans and the infinite totality, remains free to the extent
that 'It' [c] determines Its own actions. By this Spinoza means that all that God/ Nature does follows ineluctably from Its own
nature: It has no 'choice' [c] but to create in the way It has done, and It is not caused to act by anything outside Itself (by definition
there could be no other substances). We cannot therefore attribute final causality to God or Nature. As for our seemingly
purposive actions, our feeling or awareness of motivation, and our belief that we are free all this is illusory, resulting from
ignorance of the causal connections between ourselves and other parts of natura naturata, which determine our behaviour and
ideas. We are free only in the sense of and to the extent that we can acquire clear and distinct understanding of our body's
modifications [d]. As a corollary Spinoza places great emphasis on the value of knowledge.
It follows from Spinoza's premisses that the human mind cannot exist independently of body; and he thus rejects personal
immortality [e]. Nevertheless, he also regards the mind as being already eternal in so far as it is a part of the eternal One
Substance, and it therefore in some sense transcends the body's duration. He says that we feel and know that this is the case; and
as we approach the intuitive level of knowledge it would seem that this awareness become clearer.

KNOWLEDGE
[4] True ideas correspond necessarily to their ideata [a]. Spinoza calls this correspondence an 'extrinsic' mark of truth. However,
many ideas are 'inadequate' and thus lack an 'intrinsic' mark of truth. His account of adequacy in terms of self-evidence [II, def. 4;
43] and error is central to his theory of knowledge [II, 19; 24-28]. In his Ethics [II, 40, note 2] he distinguishes three levels or
degrees of knowledge (he lists four in the Treatise). The first is the level of imagination. He here refers to ideas grounded in
sense-experience, that is, the modifications produced in our bodies as a result of the influence of external bodies (perception), and
to memory images as ideas of such changes continuing when external bodies are no longer present. Spinoza says such knowledge
is 'confused' and 'inadequate' in the sense that the ideas do not give us full knowledge of the causes of our impressions and their
relationships to Nature in general. Falsity is thus a kind of privation of knowledge [II, 35]. Thus, while it is indisputable that we
have an impression of the sun as being close to us and of a certain size, it is false to say that it really is that small and only 200
feet away [35, note]. In addition to impressions of particulars, Spinoza includes in this level composite images general ideas
built out of sense-experience, for example, man dog, being, thing which vary from person to person [II, 40, note 1].
Knowledge at this first level, although 'inadequate' is "useful in life". The second level is that of reason and involves knowledge
which is 'adequate', that is, it consists of ideas which are necessarily true. Such ideas are clear and distinct; their truth is self-
evident [II, 39]. (Truth is its own criterion, he says [43].) Spinoza is thinking here not only of 'common notions', such as extension
and motion, but also of any fundamental and self-evident proposition. They would seem also to include the idea the mind has of
itself as idea without reference to the body [II, 23], that is, self-consciousness an idea of an idea. These general concepts and
propositions provide the foundation for mathematics, the sciences, and indeed his own deductive system of philosophy. When we
grasp the causal relationships of particular things (as perceived at the first level of imagination) to the system of God/ Nature as a
whole (logically deduced at the second level), we ascend to the third level that of intuition. We then achieve adequate
knowledge of the essence of things, that is, we see their causal dependence on the One Substance their place in the scheme of
things, as it were though complete knowledge lies beyond human capacity. (This is because, according to Spinoza all
determination is negation [b] (omnis determination est negatio [in a letter to J. Jellis, 1674]: in determining something we limit it;
clearly the One Substance is unlimited). Knowledge of the second and third kinds is necessarily true [41][c]. It follows that for
Spinoza error is to be regarded as a privation of the understanding rather than to be attributed to any fallibility of will [d].

ETHICS
ETHICAL HEDONISM
[5] Spinoza's ethics follows from the assumptions and conclusions of his general metaphysics. There are no imperfections in
Nature; what we regard as 'evil' is a reflection of our limited point of view [a]. He defines good and bad in terms of pleasure and
pain respectively [III, 39, note] [b]. We call something good because we desire it. His ethical ideal is thus is to eliminate pain and
seek pleasure, that is, perfection. This involves essentially release from the servitude of passive emotions and conversion of them
into active emotions: the elimination of confused ideas and the acquisition of adequate ones. His ethics is therefore fundamentally
intellectualistic. The virtuous man is he who, acting under the guidance of reason, seeks self-preservation, though in Spinoza's
system this is not inconsistent with a recognition of others as seeking the same end. He calls this "the intellectual love of God",
"pleasure accompanied by the idea of God as eternal cause". [See V, 15ff; especially 33-36.] This love of God he sees as "our
salvation, blessedness or liberty". It is also the same thing as the love of God for men. Spinoza's ethical ideal seems therefore to
be the acquisition of virtue through wisdom, as a result of the attainment by reason of a complete knowledge of Nature sub specie
aeternatis (under the aspect of eternity) [c]. The individual will then be able thereby to achieve a state of imperturbability [d] in
the face of all that life brings to his existence .

POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY
SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY
[6] [See Theologico-Political Treatise.] Spinoza's political philosophy is grounded in the concept of natural law or right [a], which
he understands in terms of our conditioning by Nature to behave in particular ways. We are what we are whether we are led by
desires or by our reason. Spinoza believes the former are dominant but that it should be our aim to bring them under reason's
control. Thus to act in accordance with the laws of one's own nature is to act in conformity with the natural law. While he argues
that the achievement of the end of self-preservation justifies the means and defines natural justice for the individual [b], he
recognises that if one's power and natural rights are to be secured agreement with others in an organized society will be required.
He therefore says that a social compact is needed through which the natural right of individuals is handed over to a sovereign
power to whose laws they agree to submit. The sovereign legislates for right and wrong but with a view to ensuring individuals'
freedom to hold different opinions [c]. The concepts of 'just' and 'right' thus come to be redefined as 'extrinsic notion' in the
context of society's norms, as laid down by the sovereign. However, the sovereign clearly cannot command that people should not
love what they desire. And Spinoza allows that the sovereign may be overthrown if he fails to govern fairly or rationally [d]. The
purpose of civil society being to ensure "peace and security of life", Spinoza sees democracy as the form of commonwealth or
society most in accord with Nature and reason, and "most consonant with individual liberty", in which all men are equals as
they were in the state of nature [e].

CRITICAL SUMMARY
An original thinker in his own right, Spinoza can, however, also be seen as attempting to improve on and complete the Cartesian
programme by undertaking a more extensive and thoroughgoing treatment of the concepts of substance, adequacy and knowledge,
clarity and distinctness, and not least the problem of interaction. Moreover, his uninhibited presentation of his own philosophical
system as a quasi-mathematical or logically ordered structure consisting of axioms, definitions, inferences, and conclusions
exhibits his total commitment both to a rigorous rationalism and to the "geometrical method". At the same time this is the
Achilles' heel of his philosophy. A false assumption or an invalid argument could well undermine the whole system. And there are
certainly a number of major difficulties with it.
(1) There are problems with his proofs of the 'One Substance' God or Nature (a concept which led to accusations by some
orthodox critics that he was an atheist, while he was seen by others, for example, the Romantic poet Novalis, as being 'God-
intoxicated'). He either appeals to the principle of sufficient reason [a], which is questionable when applied to the totality of
things, or assumes existence to be a perfection (although he uses the arguably more acceptable concept of necessary existence).
His concept of substance also has what some philosophers would see as the undesirable consequence that individual things are
reduced to but modes of the One.
(2) On the other hand his assumptions do offer a possible solution to Cartesian dualism. Mind and body for Spinoza are no longer
seen as 'essences' or types of substance but have instead become attributes of the One Substance. The question of an interaction
therefore no longer arises; the attributes operate in parallel, as it were: mental 'ideas' correspond to material 'ideata'. It can be
argued that we still have a residual dualism in that we have two kinds of attributes. But as against this Spinoza argues that what
occurs in either realm can be accounted for ultimately by the One. This, however, gives rise to further difficulties concerning
freedom.
(3) Freedom and determinism. Spinoza is committed to assimilating causality to logical implication. Does this not entail
determinism? How is this consistent with his ethics? He argues that we are free in relation to the degree that we have clear and
distinct, or adequate knowledge of God. This is attained in so far as we move away from emotion or passion which confuses our
understanding. We are totally free as soon as we become aware of the necessity of all things; and this is achieved in the
intellectual love of God. Whether this is a sustainable position is questionable.
(4) Similarly one might question Spinoza's view that while personal immortality has to be ruled out in his system, a rational
element might remain timelessly in the mind of God after the body has disintegrated.
(5) As for Spinoza's political philosophy, he allows for the possibility that human desires may be transformed and overcome, and
also that the social contract may be broken. He thus suggests a more 'open' and less authoritarian society than Hobbes.
LOCKE (1632 1704)
EMPIRICISM
John Locke was born at Wrington in Somerset, the son of a Puritan attorney. He was educated at Westminster School and Christ
Church, Oxford, where he studied classics and scholastic philosophy. He graduated B.A. in 1656, proceeded to the M.A. in 1658,
and was appointed Student (that is, Fellow) and Tutor in Greek at Christ Church. He was elected Fellow of the Royal Society in
1668. He also studied medicine, though did not take his medical degree until 1675, and he never practised. Appointed secretary to
Lord Ashley, the Earl of Shaftesbury in 1667, he took an active part in both the political and intellectual life of the day. He spent
some time in France, then in 1683 in Holland, to which he fled because of his association with the by then discredited
Shaftesbury. He was also deprived of his Studentship. While abroad he met many of the chief thinkers and continued his work on
his Essay Concerning Human Understanding. This was published in 1690, Locke having returned to England after the revolution
of 1688. Further books followed, and he was also once again active in public life until 1700.

PHILOSOPHY OF LANGUAGE
[1] The term 'Idea' is employed in a wide sense to stand for "whatever is the object of the understanding when a man thinks"
[Essay Concerning Human Understanding, I, 1, viii; II, 1, i], and includes sense-experiences, images, and concepts. These thus
represent or 'signify' things or what the mind constructs from representations. Ideas, in their turn, are referred to by words. Words
are to be used as "sensible marks of ideas": "the ideas they stand for are their proper or immediate signification" [III, 2, i]. Thus
Locke seems to hold an 'ideational' version of the denotation theory of meaning [a]. This 'signification' is, however, a matter of
arbitrary choice or convention. There are additionally some words which signify not ideas but "the connection that the mind gives
to ideas or propositions" [III, 7, i], for example, 'particles' such as 'is', 'is not', 'but'. Now, many of our ideas can, by a process of
abstraction, become general, that is, they can be made to represent more than one individual. Words can then become general by
being made to signify these general ideas [III, 3, vi]. Thus 'man' may signify not just this man but all those individuals who
conform to this abstract idea. Likewise the general term 'triangle' seems to refer to what all triangles have in common. Their
different and inconsistent 'parts' have been abstracted and left out: it must therefore be "neither oblique nor rectangle, neither
equilateral, equicrural, nor scalenon; but all of these and none at once" [IV, 7, ix]. General names thus stand for what Locke calls
'nominal essence', that is, the common features a thing we suppose a thing to possess by virtue of which it is that thing. However,
the 'real' essence of a thing (that is, its inner constitution, that which makes it the individual thing it is) is unknowable; and we
give it no name. (He rejects completely the notion of a real fixed essence as that which is common to members of a species [III, 3,
xvii]. ) This is in effect Locke's 'conceptualist' treatment of the problem of 'universals' [b]. Despite his seemingly confident
account, Locke says that language is in a sense imperfect [III, 9]. The ideal is that a given word will excite the same idea in
different people: but it is clear that this does not happen in the case of 'complex ideas' and other ideas the mind puts together. He
also discusses [III, 10] what he supposes to be abuses of words. These can give rise to error in a variety of ways [c]. Words may
be misused, as when we employ them without clear ideas, or learn names before we know the ideas they signify. We may
misapply them old words being used with new significations, or new ones that do not signify (for example, 'matter', which we
suppose stands for an idea signifying something distinct from body and real in nature), or cannot signify (for example, 'real
essence'). (If we assume that Locke in effect accepts a denotation theory of meaning, such non-signifying words must presumably
be regarded as meaningless.) It is equally mistaken to suppose that words have "a certain and evident signification". Language
being used to convey rapidly our ideas and thereby the knowledge of things, Locke recognises the seriousness of the errors misuse
of language leads to; and he devotes Bk III, chapter 11 to a discussion of how they might be avoided.

KNOWLEDGE
[2] In the Essay Locke sets out to discover the origin, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, and to investigate the "grounds
and degrees of belief, opinion, and assent" [I, 1, ii]. Where do ideas come from? How do we acquire them? Can we distinguish
between knowledge and opinion? He starts [1, 2-4] by rejecting all theories of innate ideas or principles, whether they be of a
logical nature, such as 'it is impossible for the same thing to be and not to be', or are practical/ moral ones. The argument from
"universal consent" is, he says, worthless. Such agreement can be explained in other ways. And in any case there is no genuine
universal consent; small children and idiots are unaware of such principles.
What then is Locke's account of ideas? All our ideas come from experience, that is, from sensation or from reflection [see II, 1]
[a]. The former is the result of the effect on the mind of external objects, while the latter is the result of considering the operation
of our minds (that is, through perception, thinking, doubting, believing, willing) on sensations, through the 'internal sense' [II, 1,
iv]. He goes on [throughout Book II] to distinguish different kinds of ideas. Firstly, ideas are either simple or complex. Simple
ideas [5-11] are received passively and are (1) of sensations colour, taste, etc. (one sense), or space, figure (two or more
senses); (2) of reflection, such as perception, willing; or (3) of a mixture of sensation and reflection, for example, pleasure, pain,
power, existence, unity. Complex ideas [13 ff.] are divided into types of 'objects': ideas of substances, modes, and relations, all of
which result from the mind's acting on simple ideas. (He also includes an alternative classification in terms of 'activities': simple
ideas are combined into one complex one; two ideas, simple or complex, can be compared without being united and can produce
relations; ideas can be separated (abstracted) from others accompanying them to produce general ideas.) How do we account for
the origin of our simple ideas? Locke says that things possess 'powers' [7] to produce ideas in our minds; and he calls these
powers qualities. Now, qualities are either original or primary, or are secondary [8]. Primary ideas are those which produce in us
simple, ideas of solidity, extension, figure, motion, rest, and number. Our ideas of primary qualities actually resemble the bodies
possessing them their patterns exist in the bodies themselves. Our ideas of secondary qualities, however, (colours, sounds, etc.)
do not resemble anything in the bodies which give rise to them [b].
Complex ideas of substances [23]. We can have clear and distinct ideas of individual 'substances', that is, corporeal, extended
things [c] (for example, the sun), because these are just collections or combinations of simple ideas. And we learn to associate the
qualities of things. Thus a sound can lead us to think of a colour or shape as belonging to the idea of a particular thing. But we
also go further, Locke says, when we ask what keeps a collection of ideas together in a complex. How can they 'subsist'? To
answer this we must suppose there must be a 'substratum' which supports the qualities producing our ideas. It is this substratum
we call substance, the primary qualities being 'accidents'. This is Locke's idea of substance in general [23] [d]. Clearly we do
neither perceive nor have knowledge of such substance: it is but an abstraction and an inference. In the same way we can arrive at
ideas of a 'spiritual substance' underpinning our simple ideas of thinking, doubting, perceiving, etc., and of a Supreme Being.
Such ideas, in contrast to those of ideas of particular substances, are neither clear nor distinct. The mind is conceived by Locke as
consisting in an unknowable 'substratum'; and he believes that we are probably both material and immaterial substance though
this cannot be proved. (We might of course be just material but with the capacity to think added by God.) [See IV, xxiii, 19.] He
also says that there can be no solution to the problem of the relationship between mind and body [e].
Ideas of relations. [25] Relations are regarded by Locke as (1) complex ideas derived from a general activity of reflection on the
data of sensation; (2) the result of a specific activity, viz, the comparing of two simple or complex ideas [f]. Of particular
importance is the relation of causality. [26] We notice, says Locke, that particular things begin to exist. That which produces any
simple or complex idea we call the cause; that which is produced is the effect. Thus when wax melts the simple idea of heat is the
cause, the simple idea of fluid is the effect. Similarly the complex idea of wood is the effect of the complex idea of fire. He
distinguishes between three kinds of production: (1) generation when a new substance comes from a pre-existent material; (2)
alteration when a pre-existent idea produces in itself a new simple idea; and (3) creation when something comes into
existence from no pre-existent material. The relation of cause and effect is one which obtains between ideas. Nevertheless, Locke
says that it is grounded in active power possessed by substances to affect each other and to produce ideas in us [see II, 21]. We get
the idea of this power mainly by 'introspecting' and thereby discovering in ourselves our own capacity to exercise power over our
minds and bodies by volition or willing. (And willing, he says, is to be distinguished from desire: desire, as a state of
"uneasiness of the mind for want of some absent good", determines the will [II, 21, xxx-xxxii].) We can also get an 'obscure idea'
of active power by looking at the way a ball communicates its motion to another at rest. Although the relation between cause and
effect is discovered through experience, Locke seems to regard the connection as necessary in that he says that everything which
has a beginning must have a cause [g]. Locke's discussion of relations leads on to the concepts of identity and diversity. [27] It is
clear, he says, that two things apparently alike in all respects but existing in different places at the same time must have their own
separate identity. To allow for the possibility of two substances of different kind occupying the same place at a given time (they
would presumably have to be spiritual beings) he says that existence itself must be the principle of individuation, existence being
"incommunicable" to the two beings. Identity can change, however, if parts of the thing are added or removed. Furthermore living
things possess an identity in a different way from non-living things, in that, while in both cases continuous existence in space and
time is required, in living things (vegetables and animals) the fleeting increasing or decreasing particles of matter are "vitally
united" and constitute the continuing organization appropriate to that thing. The criterion of self-identity is thus bodily continuity.
This is the case also with man; and Locke rejects the possibility that a continuous soul can constitute the criterion, on the grounds
that, given reincarnation, we could never be sure that a particular living thing was, say, a hog or a man. Nevertheless,
consciousness as the manifestation of an immortal soul substance is the basis for identification of a man as a person the self
[h]: "a thinking intelligent being, that has reason and reflection, and can consider itself as itself, the same thinking thing, in
different times and places" [II, 27, xii]. Thus separate and distinct consciousnesses existing at different time in the same body
would constitute different persons for the same man.
Having set out his view as to the origin of knowledge Locke must now [Book IV] consider what knowledge involves and what
can be known. Knowledge, he says, consists in "the perception of the connection and agreement, or disagreement or repugnancy,
of any of our ideas" [IV, 1, ii]. He explains this by reference to a number of kinds of agreement or disagreement:
(1) Identity or diversity. Here the mind recognises, when it has an idea, that it is what it is and is not another; for example, "Blue
is not yellow".
(2) Relation. The mind perceives a relation between any two ideas, such as "Two triangles upon equal bases between two parallels
are equal".
(3) Coexistence. In cases of this type the mind recognises that particular ideas always accompany others in a given complex.
Example: "Iron is susceptible of magnetical impression".
(4) Lastly Locke refers to ideas as corresponding to a "real existence". "God is" is of this kind.
(These 'real' connections are to be contrasted with those connections or associations of ideas [i] which are attributable to chance or
custom many of which, Locke says lead us into error [see II, 33].)
He goes on [IV, 2] to distinguish three degrees of knowledge: (1) We have intuitive knowledge when we perceive an agreement or
disagreement without the intervention of another idea, as, for example, "White is not black". This is the paradigm, the clearest and
most certain kind of knowledge, he says.
(2) Less clear than intuition is demonstrative knowledge, which requires intervening ideas to perceive agreement or disagreement.
It thus depends on proofs. A typical example is the discovery that three angle of a triangle are equal to two right angles.
(3) Sensitive knowledge of "particular existence". Thus we suppose ourselves to be aware of the existence of external objects
through our senses (for example, of a rose by its scent). However, this is the least certain or clear degree of knowledge; we must
recognise the possibility of error. Strictly speaking, we cannot pass beyond what is present to our senses [j]. Sensitive knowledge
apart, whatever falls short of intuition or demonstration in general truths is said by Locke to be faith or opinion.
What then are the limits of our knowledge, given these three degrees? [3 -11] Knowledge of identity and diversity extends as far
as the ideas: we perceive them and their agreement or disagreement intuitively. Knowledge of coexistence is more limited; for in
the collection of ideas we are confined to we can discern no visible connection between simples making up the complex ideas.
Neither can we discover any connection between any secondary quality and the primary qualities it depends on. As for relations,
we cannot easily say how far our knowledge extends, because we can never be sure there are no more intermediate ideas to be
discovered. Locke also says we can have intuitive knowledge of our own existence as immaterial substance in so far as through
the very process of doubting other things we perceive that we are thinking selves, although he denied that its essence consists in
its thinking; we may not always be doing so [k]. Locke rejects the ontological argument for the existence of God [IV, 10, vii; see
also King's Life of Locke, ii] on the grounds that the idea of a necessary existence does not prove that a perfect being actually
exists. But he claims to have demonstrative knowledge, although he says we cannot know God's essence; we are limited to our
complex idea of the infinite being and our arguments must proceed only by analogy [IV, 16, xii] [l]. Starting from his knowledge
of his own existence, he says he could not have produced himself and that therefore he must have had a beginning in something
which existed eternally and which contains in itself all the qualities, power, intelligence, etc. we ourselves posses but to an
absolute degree. Other than knowledge of our self and of God our knowledge must be of the sensitive kind confined to general
experiences of our senses. However, while we may thereby have good reason in everyday life for supposing external things to
exist corresponding to our sensitive ideas, there is no necessary connection. But Locke nevertheless says that our simple ideas
have 'conformity' with the reality of things that produce them which is sufficient for "real knowledge" [IV, 4, ii-iv] [m]. As for
complex ideas, they can give us real knowledge in mathematics, but this is formal, concerned only with the properties of ideas or
the intuitable relations between them, and says nothing about the external world [n]. We can also have 'real' knowledge of
substances in so far as our ideas of substances are constructed out of simple ideas which have been found consistently to coexist;
but this knowledge is of nominal essences not of real essences though Locke supposes they correspond to 'archetypes' in the
external world [o]. All such sensitive and 'real' knowledge is thus only probable [IV, 15]. The grounds for the truth of a given
proposition about things, substances, etc. are derived from (1) what we may discover from our own observation and previous
experience which has proved to be consistently regular; and (2) the testimony of others. Locke [IV, 16, v ff.] divides propositions
which admit degrees of probability into (i) verifiable matters of fact (for example, "It froze in England the last winter"); and (ii)
matters which cannot be empirically verified (for example, heat consists in a violent agitation of its minute burning parts). In such
cases we may appeal to analogy [p] (arguing from our observation that heat is produced by rubbing two bodies together). Both
natural science and history are therefore grounded in propositions which are only probable. Locke also notes that identical
statements (such as 'An A is an A', and statements in which a part of any complex idea is predicted of the whole (for example,
'Lead is a metal'), or is part of the definition of the term defined ('Every man is an animal or living body') are but 'trifling'
propositions which bring no increase to our knowledge [IV, 8] [q].
As for matters of faith (Locke seems to have been a committed Anglican), he says [IV, 16, xiv] that what is revealed by God is not
probable but certain. Nevertheless, we must appeal to reason to show that what is claimed to be a revealed truth is in fact so [r].
Revealed truth, although not discoverable by human reason (without God's help), must yet not be contrary to it. And Locke is
highly critical of those whom he terms 'enthusiasts' who are convinced of the truth of what they feel simply because of the
strength of their convictions.

ETHICS
UTILITARIANISM
[3] Locke argues [Essay, Books II and IV] that the basic rules of morality can be demonstrated and known through reason
working on experience [a]. The ideas which occur in ethical statements, such as justice and honesty (and which are 'real
essences'), are derived from our own experience: but the statements themselves, which are made up of relations between the ideas,
can be shown to be true independently of that experience and to be so with clarity and certainty; for we have real knowledge of
them. In Book II he distinguishes between a general sense of 'good' (we might call it 'natural' good) and moral good. Good, is that
which is "apt to cause or increase pleasure" (bad or evil conversely producing pain) [II, 20, ii; 21, 42]. Moral good, on the other
hand, is "the conformity of our voluntary actions to some law" [b], as a result of which we experience our 'reward' according to
the law-giver's will. Moral evil correspondingly involves disagreement with the law-giver and leads to an experience of pain [II,
28, v]. Locke uses the term 'law' in three ways [II, 28, vii-xl. There is divine law, which determines an action as a (morally good)
duty or as a (morally evil) sin: God's will is the "true ground of morality" [I, 3, xii]. Subordinate to this is civil law, by which
action is adjudged to be innocent or criminal. And lastly an action is virtuous or vicious with respect to the "philosophical" law of
opinion. Morality for Locke thus consists in following rules ultimately laid down by God. How then are they known? While he
seems to accept the possibility of revelation, he argues that we acquire a sufficient knowledge of divine law through "the light of
nature", that is, reason... Locke accepts the concept of a positive 'natural' law and says it cannot be ascertained by the reason
independently of God [c].
POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY SOCIAL CONTRACT THEORY
[4] In his second Treatise on Civil Government Locke says that man started in a state of nature. This was not, however, a state of
war; because there is a natural law, discoverable by reason and originating in , which grounds the idea of equality of all men as
rational beings [section 6] [a]. Natural law gives rise to natural rights. It obliges a man not to harm another "in his life, health,
liberty or possessions" [6]. Correspondingly a man has a duty and hence a right to self-preservation, freedom, and to property
(which Locke understands to comprise "life, liberty, and estates", and which he regards as the basic right in so far as it contributes
to his self-preservation [b]. We possess property by virtue of our labour [c] (clearing land, sowing seed, building the home, and so
on). But Locke stresses that we should acquire goods only to extent that they are sufficient for his needs. Now, because many men
in the state of nature do not actually respect the rights of others, Locke says that an organized society should be formed so as to
ensure their rights are protected. In forming such a society, that is, joining what he calls a social compact, men give their consent
freely to relinquish a degree of their natural liberty by vesting authority in a legislative body to make and enforce laws for the
common good (as he says, quoting Cicero, "salus populi suprema lex": the welfare of the people is the supreme law [158] ), and
by agreeing to abide by the will of the majority. Their liberties, although more restricted, will thereby be made more secure [d];
and he argues that all people born into the society or 'commonwealth' have given at least their tacit consent to their membership.
Locke rejects absolute monarchy as being inconsistent with civil society [e]. But he also advocates a separation of powers as
between the legislature, executive (including judicial), and federative functions the latter being concerned with relations of the
society with other states. However, the legislature remains supreme and cannot be altered by, say, a hereditary ruler without the
consent of the people. If a government is dissolved as a result of such alteration, or by conquest from outside, the people have the
right to rebel if they judge the revolution to be justified [f]. (He says also that anyone can always withdraw from the society if he
ceases to accept the compact.)
CRITICAL SUMMARY
Locke is arguably more 'modern' than Descartes, not simply because of the bare chronological fact but also on account of his
more rigorous rejection of scholastic assumptions (which Descartes, for all his radicalism, had not discarded), and his acceptance
of Newton's methodology in the natural sciences [a] (as against Descartes' emphasis on deduction and reason). He is noteworthy
too for the substantial contribution he made to a genuine theory of knowledge grounded in sense-experience and utilizing
justification criteria. Nevertheless, there is much in Locke's philosophy that later thinkers have criticized.
(1) How far Locke should be regarded as being wedded to a denotation theory of meaning is debatable. If this is his position then
it is open to a double objection: (a) that words have many different uses, and the denotation theory is too restrictive; (b) that words
primarily refer to things rather than 'ideas'. (Locke's usage of the term 'idea' is in any case too wide-ranging.) However, as an
'ideational' variant, his theory may be understood as emphasizing language as playing a mediational role: my utterances elicit in
you similar ideas to those with which my words are associated... Nevertheless, although he does talk of 'common use', he is still
committed to the view that the ideas (of sense or reflection) supposedly denoted by words are private to each user; and this gives
rise to a problem concerning communication of shared meanings in the 'public' context. He has also been criticized for holding the
view that general terms denote 'nominal essences' common features abstracted from a number of different sorts of thing
(triangles, for example). On the credit side, he has been praised for having drawn attention to the various ways in which the
misuse of words leads to error.
(2) In his theory of knowledge and metaphysics, while firmly empiricist in his account of the derivation of ideas (he rejects innate
ideas in a strong sense), Locke allows for intuitive and demonstrative knowledge. But it is doubtful whether this (moderate)
rationalist feature of his thought is consistent with his acceptance of sense-experience as his starting point. More serious problems
arise with his acceptance of a rigid distinction between primary and secondary qualities (the latter being 'powers' of the former)
and their corresponding ideas. Is the distinction tenable at least in the Lockean form? This is clearly relevant to his realist
theory of perception. How can we know primary qualities 'represent' the world? Even more serious is his assumption that
underlying qualities of a thing is a substance or substrate about which we can know nothing, and which is endowed with a 'power'
to produce in us complex ideas. Is this a 'real' essence or but a collection of ideas? What is this 'power' (the paradigm case of
which is ourselves as active, willing beings), which grounds the causal relation between ideas? Whether they actually exist in
material entities is questionable. In the last analysis, Locke appeals to 'commonsense' and practical considerations to dismiss
scepticism about such issues.
(3) Locke's theory of the self and personal identity is original but controversial. We can know nothing of spiritual substance (he
equivocates as to whether it is material or immaterial) except that it thinks. However, his criterion of identity that it lies neither
in thinking nor in bodily continuity, but in memory and responsibility poses obvious problems for amnesiacs. It has been
suggested also that his references to 'sameness' of memory involves him in circular reasoning.
(4) Locke's political philosophy arguably marks an advance on that of Hobbes. His account of human nature and society is less
depressing and more liberal there being no suggestion of absolutism. But while one can accept the importance of the
preservation of life and liberty, his emphasis on property as the basis of freedom and a natural right is less acceptable to many
theorists today, especially with reference to such issues as universal rights and fair distribution of goods. Likewise his attitude to
minorities and his provision for their opting out of the social contract is arguably unrealistic. The underpinning by God of the
natural law also represents an approach different from Hobbes's. But God might seem to be redundant in Locke's utilitarian ethics
in so far as the laws which when acted upon produce our 'good' are in principle discoverable through reflection on experience.
However, it is no doubt comforting to find out through the natural light of reason that God has sanctioned them.
LEIBNIZ (1646 1716)
RATIONAL IDEALISM (PLURALIST)
Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibniz was born in Leipzig, where his father was Professor of Moral Philosophy. He studied Aristotelian,
Scholastic, and contemporary philosophy at Leipzig, mathematics at Jena, and then law at Altdorf, taking his doctorate in 1667.
He entered the service of the Elector of Mainz and travelled in France and England, meeting many of the eminent thinkers of his
day, including Malebranche and Spinoza. In 1676 he was appointed librarian in Hanover. In the same year he discovered the
infinitesimal calculus; and this was to lead to an acrimonious dispute with Newton who had made the same discovery but whose
results were published later. He was employed to write the history of the House of Brunswick, and he was also active in
movements to reunite the Roman Catholic and Protestant churches, and to bring about an alliance of Christian states in Europe.
He founded several learned societies and became the first president of the Berlin Academy of Sciences (later the Prussian
Academy).
[Sources: References are to Leibniz's various works, such as The Monadology, The New System, and so on, but additionally
there are some references to extracts provided in the Appendix to Russell's A Critical Exposition of the Philosophy of Leibniz.
This book advantageously gives references to the standard Gerhardt edition of Leibniz's writings (Berlin, 1875-90) as well as to
other compilations.]

PHILOSOPHY OF LOGIC AND LANGUAGE

[1] Leibniz's philosophy is grounded in a number of fundamental assumptions and principles. [See Monadology, 31-36; Discourse
on Metaphysics, 8 -16.]
(1) He supposes (a) all propositions, including those expressing relations, to be expressible in the subject-predicate form; and (b)
that singular may be assimilated to universal propositions. (For Leibniz, however, not all arguments are syllogistic). He also says
that all true propositions the concept of the predicate is 'included' in that of the subject (either explicitly as in 'identities' or
virtually) [see (3) below] [a].
(2) The Principle of Contradiction (or Identity): A is A and cannot be non-A. This is the basic truth of reason on which all other
truths of reason are based. Truths of reason (whose opposites involve a contradiction and are necessary) are interconnected in a
system. The propositions of logic and mathematics are typical [b]. They consist of self-evident axioms, real definitions, and
deduced propositions.
(3) The Principle of Sufficient Reason. This provides a foundation for truths of fact. These are contingent and connected only
accidentally; no contradiction is involved when they are denied. Now, necessary truths of reason are in a general sense analytic,
their predicates being contained in their subjects. Contingent truths of fact, however, are synthetic; their predicates are not seen to
be included in their corresponding subjects. However, Leibniz argues that given that God, as omniscient creator, exists, he (but
not man) can know them; and to that extent, from His point of view, even these predicates too can be regarded as being contained
in their subjects. Contingent truths are therefore also analytic, but only in a narrower sense. Thus the notion that Caesar will cross
the Rubicon constitutes part of the subject Caesar. There is therefore a sufficient reason, located in God, for truths of fact [c].
(4) Definition for Leibniz is per genus et differentia. But he distinguishes between real and nominal definitions. Real definitions
define the realm of the possible; nominal definitions define the realm of actualized possibles [d].
Given the feasibility of (a) analysing complex terms into simple ones or indefinable terms (to form an 'alphabet of human
thoughts'), and (b) a complete deductive analysis of necessary or eternal truths, Leibniz hoped that it would be possible to
construct a universal science incorporating mathematics, science, metaphysics, the study of law, and utilizing a universal language
a characteristica universalis [e] consisting of mathematical symbolism, so that if we wished to discover new truths all we
would have to do would be to perform the appropriate calculations. [See De Arte Combinatoria.]

METAPHYSICS
[2] Leibniz's metaphysics is closely connected with his logic. This is seen clearly in the parallels between the subject-predicate
distinction appropriate to judgements an`d the substance-attribute distinction applicable to actual or possible existent things.
What are substances? Leibniz says they are the basic elements or 'atoms' of nature, out of which are made the individual things of
our universe the one reality God has actually created. They are simple 'spiritual' entities: Leibniz calls them 'monads'
[Monadology, 1; Discourse, 8; see also Principles of Nature and Grace]. They have no shape or extension and hence cannot be
divided either practically or theoretically. Leibniz thinks of them as metaphysical points. (Physical points are divisible;
mathematical points do not exist.) [See also Russell, p. 254.] They can be created or annihilated only by God. They are entities
which both persist and provide 'support' for qualities or ideas of colour, shape, and so on. In so far as these qualities inhere in or
belong to a substance, the monad can be regarded as a subject of which attributes may be predicated and as a 'centre of change'
[a], as it were. Successive predicates included in the subject then correspond to changes of 'accidents' occurring in the substance.
No two monads are alike. This is in accord with his Principle of the Identity of Indiscernibles ['Fifth Paper to Clarke', 24-26],
which asserts that no two individuals can be perfectly alike or equal; it would be contrary to the Principle of Sufficient Reason to
suppose that two indiscernible substances exist, and if there were, we should have no principle of individuation [b]. Although he
is not always consistent, Leibniz's general view seems thus seems to be that it is both inconceivable and metaphysically
impossible that there should be two indistinguishable substances. Every position in the created world is therefore occupied. There
are, as it were, no gaps. Likewise there are no discontinuities in the changes substances undergo though we do not actually see
them or are unaware of them. As he says, "nature does not make leaps" (natura non facit saltum) (he calls this the Law of
Continuity) [New Essays, Preface]. The universe is thereby complete and harmonious and indeed exhibits simple mathematical
ratios. It is truly infinite in that, as the 'Absolute', it exists prior to all composition and is not formed by the addition of parts [c].
(By contrast what he refers to as an infinite aggregates by virtue of divisibility [see sec. 4] are not actually infinite; 'infinite'
aggregates are not truly wholes. However, he continues to use the concept to the extent that it does not lead to infinite number
which he rejected. [see New Essays I, xvii, and Russell, pp. 109-10] ) Monads differ from each other in the degrees of perception
and appetition they possess [Monad., 14ff.]. By 'perception' Leibniz means an internal condition of the monad in so far as it
represents external bodies. (Our consciousness of our internal states he refers to as 'apperception'.) By 'appetition' he means the
action of an internal principle that monads also possess which enables them to change from one perception to the next. Leibniz
says there are therefore degrees of clarity and distinctness in perception. (Accordingly he allows validity to the Cartesian 'cogito'
but says it is not a fundamental principle.) Appetition is a manifestation of a general inner capacity for activity and self-
development, that is, for action. It is a 'living force' (vis viva), energy, or 'drive' (conatus) [d]. Leibniz thinks of the monads as
'entelechies' first principles of perfection, and as substantial forms [Monad., 18; also New System]. Simple monads are thus in
a sense 'spiritual' substances. However, they must also have a potential or passive aspect as their 'essence'. He calls this prime
matter. This is not corporeal, although monads are supposed to possess, by virtue of their prime matter, impenetrability and inertia
capacities to resist respectively penetration and motion. Leibniz's position leads to the postulation of mind-body as a unity of
monads with the substantial soul monad as dominant. And, consistently with his concept of continuity [e], he seems to
minimize the differences between spirit and matter within the monads. He certainly wishes to preserve the notion of man as a
unitary being [e]. The human soul is immortal but requires memory [Discourse, 34; see also Russell, pp. 265, 294]. But unlike
other substances it cannot have pre-existence; And Leibniz rejected the idea of the soul's being absorbed and reunited with the
"ocean of Divinity" (which he supposed to be Averroes' position): there can be no transmigration [f], on account of the lack of
contact between monads [g] [New Essays, Introduction].
[3] How does Leibniz account for extended physical bodies if simple monads are non-extended metaphysical points? Corporeal
substances, he says, are 'aggregates' of an infinite number of inferior monads under the control of a dominant superior monad.
Whereas each monad comprises active entelechy and passive prime matter, corporeal substances constitute secondary matter or
mass [see Russell, p. 226]. Bodies are nevertheless regarded as 'organic'. As for extension, Leibniz thinks of this in terms of the
way in which bodies appear to us: it is a phenomenon, a product of "plurality, continuity, and simultaneous existence of many
parts" represented as if they were similar and indiscernible [a]. It follows that space and time are relative and not absolute. Space
is "an order of coexistences", time "an order of successions". They too are therefore phenomenal and unreal (in the sense that they
exist 'subjectively' as orders of appearances). Nevertheless, Leibniz calls them "well-founded phenomena" in so far as they are
objectively grounded in relations) [see 'Third Paper to Clarke', 2-6; 'Fourth Paper', 7-18; 'Fifth Paper'] [b].
[4] While, consistently with his concept of continuity, Leibniz seems to minimize the differences between spirit and matter within
the monads, he wants to keep a distinction between 'rational' souls and souls of all other organic bodies. [See New System.]
Rational souls or spirits are those which, he thinks, are capable of reasoning and can have knowledge of immaterial things and
truths. The motion of bodies can be explained in terms of efficient, mechanical causes in accordance with the laws of natural
philosophy (that is, science). Such causes are thus systematic regularities in the phenomenal world 'Souls', however, act according
to the laws of final causation [a], relating to appetition, ends and means. Because what each monad is and how it acts is a
consequence of its 'entelechy', there can be no causal interaction between souls and bodies. But Leibniz argues that God, when He
created the universe, so arranged things that the seemingly reciprocal activity of each monad corresponds perfectly with what
happens in all the others. Souls as dominant monads are thus also in agreement with the operations of their respective 'bodies'.
Leibniz compares monads to clocks which have been constructed by the eternal clockmaker so that they all keep the same time.
No intervention is needed. Indeed it would be incompatible with his perfection and 'uneconomical' were he to do so. Leibniz calls
his theory the Theory of Pre-established Harmony [b]; and he sees it also as reconciling the two different causal realms [New
System; also Monad., 78ff.]. This is because the totality of all that occurs in all monads is ultimately attributable to God's choice
in creating this particular world [see sec. 5]. In effect, therefore, for Leibniz contingent mechanical causation, is subsumed under
final causation [c] and we can assume that for Leibniz the proposition 'all events have causes' is a restatement of the principle
of sufficient reason. It follows also from Leibniz's account of the pre-established harmony of the system of corresponding monads
that he is committed to a coherence theory of truth [d].
[5] God, for Leibniz, is pure Being, the primary monad, pure activity, and distinct from His creation [a] (which is corporeal and
subject to mechanistic laws). He is not the One substance. Leibniz's account of the world clearly presupposes that God exists; and
he offers a number of different arguments designed to prove this.
(1) The ontological argument [Monad., 45]. Taking existence to be a perfection, Leibniz says that God possessing all
perfections must necessarily exist. This can be seen as soon as the idea of God is understood. However, for this proof to be
valid Leibniz said that the concept of God would have to be possible, that is, not self-contradictory [b]; and it must be because no
incompatibility can be shown between the simple qualities (the perfections), which are essentially unanalysable. So, although
'God is a possible being' is a truth of reason, it entails that God exists. 'God exists' is thus the single existential statement which is
a truth of reason.
(2) Eternal and necessary truths must be grounded in something absolutely and metaphysically necessary [c]. This must be God;
and such truths exist in His understanding.
(3) Truths of fact also demonstrate God's existence, in that a succession, even to infinity, of contingent causes must have a
sufficient reason for their existence [d]. There must therefore be a necessary being [Principles of Nature and Grace, 8].
(4) Given his definition of monads as entities which do not interact, Leibniz says that the need for a pre-established harmony itself
proves that God exists. This is reinforced by the moral certainty provided by the order and beauty we perceive in nature. (Leibniz
attributes our feelings of beauty to harmony and proportion [ibid. 17] [e].
Leibniz said that our world is the one that God has actually created out of the infinite number of 'compossible' worlds. Why then
did he do so? Leibniz's answer is that it was seen by God to be the best of all possible worlds the one in which the greatest
amount of good would be realized [Discourse, 6]. There are number of difficulties with this view, which he addresses [especially
in Theodicy].

(1) God is not compelled to create this world. It is a world which is necessary physically but not metaphysically. God, says
Leibniz, has free choice [f].
(2) But although the world may be "the best of all possible worlds", surely it is not perfect? Leibniz accepts the existence of evil
though he thinks of it as a 'privation'. He in fact distinguishes three kinds. (a) There is metaphysical evil, in that individuals are
necessarily limited in their being and knowledge and can therefore err. This gives rise to (b) moral evil or sin; and thence to (c)
physical evil or suffering. But Leibniz says that all these can be a means of bringing about good; and God therefore permits but
does not will evil as such. Individual souls can progress towards perfection and happiness in the next world through a partial
vision and knowledge of God. Thus the world as a whole becomes more perfect, as "the physical kingdom of nature" is brought
into closer harmony with "the moral kingdom of grace" [g].
(3) How can people be called free if God has chosen to create monads all the actions of which are contained within that concept
even before they are actualized? [Discourse, 13]. Leibniz's answer is that while there are always moral reasons that "incline
without necessitating", our choices are not absolutely, that is, metaphysically necessary [Discourse, 30; see also New Essays, II,
xxi; Correspondence with Arnauld; Russell, pp. 292-3] [h].
Implicit in Leibniz's philosophy is the assumption that there is no incompatibility between reason and faith [i]. Indeed he regarded
his metaphysics as a natural theology which could be utilized by any Christian regardless of denomination. However, in his later
years he came to espouse a 'natural' religion rather than one grounded in revelation and the teachings of an authoritative church.

KNOWLEDGE
[6] [See Discourse, 23-29; Monad., 56-62; New Essays, Book IV.] As monads contain within themselves the totality of their
future states [Monad., 22 the present state of a simple substance is "big with the future"], or, as subjects, contain implicitly all
their own predicates, there is no causal connection between them. Strictly therefore no monad can have any knowledge of another.
Monads have no 'windows', says Leibniz. But because of the pre-established harmony the unfolding perceptions of one monad
mirrors that occurs in each of the others [a]. Thus we may talk of perceptual knowledge in a limited sense as "the internal state
of each monad representing external things". However, Leibniz says that there are degrees of perception. In some monads and in
the case of human beings (when asleep, for example) perception is confused or absent altogether. Higher levels are attainable
when perception is accompanied successively by memory, feeling, and finally consciousness. He tends therefore to think in terms
of a continuum between passive and confused sense experience and increasingly clear understanding as the mind (the dominant
monad) becomes ever more active. At the higher levels of reflection we may have general knowledge of eternal truths (the
principles of contradiction, sufficient reason, truths of mathematics and logic), all of which are derivable by the mind from within
itself through the exercise of reason [b]; and inference is possible (at least in theory) from an analysis of one substantial monad to
the predicates of all the others, thereby giving us potentially knowledge of the whole universe. In a wide sense, therefore, all ideas
for Leibniz are (virtually) innate. However, using the term more narrowly he applies it to clear and distinct ideas such as those of
substance, cause, God, as well as space and time, and perception itself. Confused perceptions, which mirror external aggregates of
monads and thus constitute 'knowledge' of the phenomenal world, are therefore not strictly innate [c]. Both senses of 'innate' are
implicit in Leibniz's observation: "There is nothing in the understanding which was not first in the senses except for the
intellect itself' [New Essays, II, i].

CRITICAL SUMMARY
Leibniz was a thinker of great brilliance who encompassed an extraordinarily wide range of interests. The fragmentary nature of
his writings, many of which were incomplete or published after his death, have made interpretation difficult and contentious.
There is undoubtedly a close connection between his logic and metaphysics (perhaps more apparent in his earlier work).
However, many commentators would now reject Russell's view that the latter is grounded in the former. Of many important issues
in his philosophy the following deserve comment.
(1) Truths of reason, governed by the Principle of Non-contradiction, are analytic necessary in all possible worlds (thus all
analytic propositions are true); while truths of fact, governed by the Principle of Sufficient Reason, are synthetic and contingent.
Nevertheless, Leibniz also says that all true propositions (including 'contingent' ones) are analytic, in the sense that their
predicates are contained in the 'complete notions' of their subjects. There are difficulties with this so-called 'predicate-in-subject'
principle. Complete notions of subjects, and thus their unique individualities, can be known only by God. Moreover, while
analytic in this wider sense, such propositions are also contingent in that the existence of their subjects is dependent on God's will.
He had a sufficient reason for creating them; they might not have existed actually. These concepts of analyticity and contingency,
particular in relation to 'possible worlds' are the subject of much discussion today.
(2) Leibniz's Principle of the Identity of Indiscernibles, which he derives from the Principle of Sufficient Reason and the
'predicate-in-subject' principle, underlies his views on appearance and reality. Whereas, in response to Descartes, Spinoza posited
one substance, for Leibniz the universe consists of an infinite plurality of monads. This gives rise to further problems. (a) Given
the impossibility of interaction between monads, Leibniz has to postulate the pre-established harmony. This is not easy to
reconcile with human freedom; there would seem to be an inconsistency between his logic/ metaphysics and his ethics/ theology.
His solution involving the notion of inclination without necessitation is not convincing. Moreover an individual's perception and
knowledge have to be understood as being derived from within himself and ultimately attributable to God. Leibniz is thus
committed to the characteristically rationalist criterion of 'clarity' to determine truth. (b) His account of space and time as 'well-
founded phenomena' sits uneasily between Newtonian absolutism and Kant's 'forms of intuition' theory. (c) The only real
individuals are souls (characterized by 'active force'). This gives rise to a difficulty concerning the individuality of composites. As
against these difficulties, it can be argued that Leibniz's 'organicism' offers a way towards overcoming the Cartesian problem of
interaction.
(3) God is obviously central to Leibniz's metaphysics. His suggested proofs the (modified) ontological argument and his appeal
to a sufficient reason are, however, unsatisfactory. Further, Leibniz's view that this created world is the best of all possible
worlds, and his solution to the problem of evil have not been found convincing by many thinkers; and they would question also
his assumption that reason and faith are in harmony.

BERKELEY (1685 1753)

EMPIRICAL IDEALISM
Born near Dysert in County Kilkenny, Ireland, the son of an army officer, George Berkeley was educated at Kilkenny College and
Trinity College Dublin, where he studied mathematics and philosophy. He graduated B.A in 1700, was elected a Fellow of Trinity
in 1707, and taught there (with various breaks abroad, particularly in Italy) until 1724 when he was made Dean of Derry (having
been ordained in the Church of Ireland in 1710). In 1728 he went to America with a view to establishing a college in Bermuda but
returned In 1731, the promised funding not having materialized. He was appointed Bishop of Cloyne in 1734. In 1752 he moved
to Oxford, where he died.

PHILOSOPHY OF LANGUAGE/ MATHEMATICS

NOMINALISM
[1] "We must beware of being misled by terms we do not rightly understand", Berkeley wrote [De Motu, 1]. Failure to think about
the meanings of the words we use in philosophical discussion leads to difficulties and errors when we attempt to define them
[Philosophical Commentaries, vol. I, passim]. We are too ready to accept conventional meanings. Some words seem to defy
definition. In other cases we use words which do not have a meaning at all, in that they do not refer to anything. "All significant
words stand for ideas" [Phil Comm., 378] [a]. An example is Locke's use of the phrase 'material substance' if by this he means
anything other than our actual sense-experiences [see also Principles, I, 17]. Berkeley therefore exhorts us to examine carefully
the way we use our language to analyse it, if we are not to be misled. So why do we use language? [Principles, Introd., 20ff.].
We use it for communication. But Berkeley says it is also used to "raise passions", excite people to action, or deter them from it,
and so on. We therefore need to take account of these different functions of language [b] if we are to distinguish between
controversies which are "purely verbal' and others which are not [ibid. 22]. As he says, many of the difficulties we encounter in
philosophy are our own fault: "We have first raised a dust, and then complain we cannot see" [ibid. 31]. This is particularly
evident in our (mis)use of language [c]. Berkeley's view of language underlies his attack on Locke's 'abstract general ideas' [ibid.
6-18]. He supposes Locke to be saying that we can have ideas (that is, images) not only of equilateral triangles, right-angled
triangles, and so on, but also an idea of a triangle which is both all and none of these at the same time a claim that Berkeley
rejects. We may use the phrase 'abstract general idea', but it has no reference or denotatum: it does not 'signify'. However, he does
not reject general ideas as such, only the view that any general name has "one precise and definite signification" [18]. General
words like 'material substance', 'triangle' are not proper names (which signify particular things). So what are general ideas?
According to Berkeley a general word "signifies indifferently a great number of particular ideas" [ibid.] By this he means that,
say, 'triangle' may refer to this triangle or that triangle, but not to a 'general triangle' or triangularity. A particular idea "becomes
general by being made to represent or stand for all other particular ideas of the same sort" 12]. Therein lies its universality [c].
Although Berkeley held that words stand for ideas, he said that there are no ideas of number denoted by the names of numerals.
Number is to be defined as a collection of units [Principles 120]. In arithmetic we should therefore consider not 'things' but signs
and only to the extent that they "direct us how to act with relation to things" the operations of arithmetic being as it were a
shorthand method of computation in accordance with rules and which take the place of writing down successions of individual
strokes [ibid. 121]. Signs, he said [Philosoph. Commentaries I, pp. 732-5] "are perfectly arbitrary and in our power made at
pleasure". He later extended this view of arithmetic to geometry [see De Motu] (having previously supposed geometry to be about
actual lines and figures). Berkeley's approach to mathematics is generally regarded as a conventionalist theory [d].

KNOWLEDGE
[2] In his early Essay towards a New Theory of Vision Berkeley offers an account of how we perceive distance. He disagrees with
the contemporary 'geometrical' explanation that we estimate distances by means of measurements of lines and angles, which he
says is not supported by experience [Essay, 12]. Instead he relates perception of distance to the varying sensations we have when
we move towards or away from some object as a result of the changing "interval between the pupils" of our eyes [16]; and also to
the degree of "confusion" in our vision (to avoid which we strain our eyes). There thus arises an association, "a habitual
connexion", between our experience of sensations and distances [21-28]. Distance is "mediated" by an idea we perceive in seeing
What of the size of sensible objects? Berkeley distinguishes [54ff.] between visible objects and tangible objects, each kind having
its own "distinct magnitude". Consider the moon (67-74]. While we suppose the actual magnitude of the moon outside us does not
change, its visible apparent size does. How do we account for this seeming contradiction? Berkeley says that this is because when
we see the moon at a distance we refer its extension to the tangible and not visible magnitude, though the former may be
suggested initially by the latter. He goes on to say that there is no idea in common between the two senses of sight and touch.
Nevertheless there is a correlation between them which he attributes to "the author of nature" [a]. The proper objects of vision are,
he says, the author of nature's "universal language", and they signify objects at a distance in the same way that signs of our human
language suggest things through habitual connections and not by likeness of identity.
Berkeley seems to be suggesting that tangible objects exist outside the mind, while the visible objects which signify them are 'in'
the mind. But in his developed theory of perception [Principles of Human Knowledge] he argues that all sensible objects are 'in'
the mind. His thesis is as follows. What do we mean when we say that a sensible thing, say, a table exists? Berkeley says that we
see it and feel it, and that if we were out of the room, to say it existed would be to say we might perceive it on our return (or that
some spirit was actually perceiving it) [3]. To exist, therefore, is to perceive or be perceived [esse est aut percipi aut percipere].
He considers himself to be providing an analysis of statements about the existence of things which is essentially that of "vulgar
opinion" (the ordinary man's view ) [3-41. Now, the "objects of human knowledge" for Berkeley are ideas. They are either (1)
imprinted on the senses; (2) "perceived by attending to the passions and operations of the mind"; or (3) formed, compounded in
memory or by imagination [11]. He thus rejects the 'innate' ideas of rationalism [b]. To support this identification of sensible
things with "collections of ideas" he criticizes Locke's distinction between primary and secondary qualities [9-10]. It is not
possible to conceive of them as apart from each other [c]. Qualities such as shape or extension are just as relative to the perceiver
as are colours and tastes. Moreover extension, motion, and so on are "abstract ideas", which have no signification [11]. Similarly
there can be no such entity as a material substratum (the phrase "supporting accidents" has no sense). (Indeed Berkeley regards
the concept of matter as both unintelligible and pernicious in so far as he considers materialist philosophies as threatening
religion [d].) It follows that sensible things are to be understood as collections of ideas in the mind [see also Dialogues I].
Does this mean that things do not really exist outside us even tangibly? In reply [33- 40] Berkeley says that sensible things as
ideas are the real things, but that they exist in a mind [e]. It might perhaps have been better, he says, had he not used the word
'idea' and kept to 'thing'. He did so because 'thing' is generally supposed to denote an entity existing "without" the mind. We might
think it "very harsh" to say we eat and drink ideas, and are clothed with them, but this is simply because the philosophical
language is not familiar; it does not affect the truth. If ideas were distinct, this would lead to universal scepticism because our
knowledge would be confined to our own ideas [Phil. Comms]. A second reason for using 'idea' is that 'thing' includes not only
ideas but also spirits or thinking things, and these are not ideas; rather they have them. Is there then no distinction between the
real and the imaginary? Berkeley's answer to this is that while 'real' ideas are imprinted on our senses by the author of our nature,
images of things (for example, a unicorn) are under our own control; we can choose to form them at will. Ideas which are real
things are also stronger, more orderly, and more coherent than the creatures of (our own) mind and less dependent on the spirit
which perceives them [33].
What of that which is perceiving (the percipi not the percipere)? The perceiver for Berkeley is a spirit. We have no idea of such an
entity, but Berkeley allows we may have a 'notion' of it [140]. And he says we can have immediate knowledge of spirits: of our
own by "inward feeling or reflexion"; and of others (finite human spirits, or the infinite spirit God) through reason [89] [f], but
only mediately via the intervention of ideas as "effects or concomitant signs" [145].
METAPHYSICS/ RELIGIOUS PHILOSOPHY/ ETHICS/ POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY
[3] Berkeley has distinguished between collections of ideas and the 'spirits' or minds. What are spirits? A spirit, he says, is "that
which thinks, wills, and perceives" [138]. Now, while a finite spirit may cease to perceive a table, the collection of ideas
constituting the table remains in existence because they are still being perceived by God. And indeed he regards this as the basis
for his proof of God's existence [a]. Sensible things do really exist. "It is repugnant that they should subsist by themselves"
[Principles 148]. And of course they do not depend for their existence on our minds. They must therefore be perceived by an
infinite mind, or God [Dialogues II]. Nothing can be more evident, he says [149],
than the existence of God, or a Spirit who is intimately present to our minds, producing in them all that variety of ideas or
sensations, which continually affect us, on whom we have an absolute and entire dependence, in short, in whom we live, and
move, and have our being.
His argument for the existence of God thus complements his rejection of a Lockean material 'substratum'.
God is infinite spirit. As for his general attributes, Berkeley seems to understand them in a limited analogical rather than either an
equivocal or univocal sense [Alciphron IV, 16 and 17] [b]; and he says he gets his notion of God by reflecting on his own soul,
heightening its powers, and removing its imperfections [Dialogues III]. There would appear to be a difficulty concerning the
relationship between our perceptions of sensible things and the perceptions God has of them 'in His mind'. If things remain in
being in God when I am not perceiving them, how is my mind to be differentiated from God's when I do perceive them?
Berkeley's solution is to make a distinction between "archetypal and eternal" existence of things in God's mind and their original
"ectypal or natural" existence in mine [c] [Dialogues III]. It is God who imprints the ideas in me after the pattern of His own, and
relatively to them. It follows that God is directly responsible for the order of nature. As infinite active spirit he is the ultimate
cause of all that occurs. The whole of nature is a system of signs [Principles 148], a "visual language of the Creator as a provident
Governor" [Alciphron IV, 14]. What we perceive as a regular connection of ideas is not a relation of cause to effect but a sign to
be signified [d] the direct consequence of God's intervention. The fire is not the cause of pain but that which warns me of it in
advance [Principles 65].
If God is the ultimate cause, should we therefore attribute to Him all responsibility for evil? Berkeley denies this: he says that
apparent evils in nature considered in the whole system of things can be seen to be good; while moral evil is the result of our own
freedom [Principles, 153] [e]. And in his moral and political philosophy [see Passive Obedience] Berkeley rejects both
psychological egoism and moral sense theories, and advocates a form of utilitarianism self-love being his principle of action.
By following definite rules which are laid down by God (and which can be revealed to us through our reason) our individual
happiness and the general good of society can be assured (in the long run) [ibid., 6] [f]. The laws of society should reflect the
general law of nature (the system of such general rules); and thereby a state of anarchy can be avoided [g] a state in which
there is no politeness, order, or peace [11 and 15]. Berkeley allows that in certain circumstances, for example, if society's supreme
and lawful authority enjoins us to transgress the moral law, we may resist though we must accept any consequent penalties [h].
PHILOSOPHY OF SCIENCE
[4] Berkeley does not develop a philosophy of science as such, but to the extent that his account of causality can be regarded as a
scientific (rather than theological) explanation of the "order of nature" it has implications consistent with his views on language.
He is critical of the use of words such as 'attraction', 'absolute space', which many 'mathematical' natural philosophers suppose to
stand for 'occult entities', but which have no explanatory value. Any idea of pure space is relative; we cannot conceive of the idea
of space as separate from body [Principles 116]. (And he argues against the infinite divisibility of extension [a] a notion which,
he says, is the source of a great many geometrical paradoxes [Principles 123]. It is therefore misleading to attempt to explain a
given phenomenon by saying it is 'caused' by, say, attraction, 'force', or 'gravity'. The only true efficient causes for Berkeley are
active spirits; terms such as 'force' or 'effort' are strictly speaking applicable only to spiritual agencies and are used in science
metaphorically. So what role do they play in natural science? Berkeley says they are but mathematical hypotheses which (in
modern terminology) have instrumental value. We use them to frame mechanical principles, (for example, 'action and reaction are
equal and opposite'), from which we may derive "general mechanical theorems and particular explanations of phenomena" [De
Motu 36]. To talk of cause in science is to say that one phenomenon (or idea) is always found to follow another and never occurs
without it [b]. Berkeley thus distinguishes between (1) explanations of the "order of nature" in terms of physics, which describe
phenomena and mathematico-mechanical theories and hypotheses, and (2) explanations which relate to genuine efficient
causality, ultimately attributable to the infinite spiritual agency, God [c].
CRITICAL SUMMARY
There has been much discussion about how Berkeley's philosophy should be characterized. He is a realist in the sense that he
accepts the existence of a real world of tables and chairs, and people, and so on. But to the extent that he rejects matter and the
separation of primary and secondary qualities, and identifies external things as collections of ideas 'in' a mind he may reasonably
be termed an idealist. (H. M. Bracken sees him as an "Irish Cartesian" in The Irish Mind, ed. R. Kearney.) He regarded himself
as having 'united' both views the 'vulgar' opinion that what is immediately perceived are real things, and the 'philosophical'
thesis that the things immediately perceived exist only in the mind [Dialogue III]. Further, in his theory of knowledge he is an
empiricist, though in so far as he appeals to an infinite mind as the ultimate support of ideas, he is not a phenomenalist. Perhaps
this is the most interesting feature of his philosophy: that it is a generally consistent empiricism underpinned by theistic
metaphysical assumptions. But it does give rise to many interesting problems.
(1) The phrase 'in the mind' is ambiguous. Berkeley clearly does not want to say that tables and chairs actually exist in his mind,
rather that ideas are dependent on mind. At the same time he is espousing a version of direct realism: we perceive tables and
chairs directly as collections of ideas; there are no intermediaries (sensibilia, sense-data, as they are called today). However, in his
usage the term 'idea' still refers both to qualities (red, hard, etc.) and to objects. Is he right to reject any separation of objects from
our immediate experience?
(2) If objects as collections of ideas are mind dependent, can finite minds be differentiated from the infinite mind of God? If not,
the Berkeleyan system falls into pantheism. Berkeley's solution, which makes use of an archetype-ectype distinction raises
difficulties. (a) Are archetypes Platonic Ideas of which our ideas (dependent on finite minds) are but copies? When I am no longer
perceiving, the ectype ceases to exist but the archetype continues. What then is the ontological status of the ectypes which God
has put into mind? Moreover, how do the varying ectypes of a particular object in different individuals'minds relate to the one
divine archetype?
(3) Berkeley's account of causation may perhaps represent an advance on Locke's, in that only spirits can be causes; things
(Berkeley's 'ideas' or Locke's 'material things') have no causative powers. God, however, is the ultimate cause. But if he puts all
the ideas into our minds is there any role left for our own individual spiritual agencies? Points 1, 2, and 3 taken together lead to
the problem of freedom and evil. Is God's interventionism compatible with the free choice of his creatures?
(4) Clearly (as in the philosophy of Descartes) God's role is crucial. The need for an infinite being to support the continued
existence of objects when they are not being perceived by finite minds is obvious. But for a strict proof Berkeley seems to appeal
only to considerations of teleology and design neither of which is convincing. Certainly he has not proved the existence of the
infinite, all wise, perfectly good Christian God (to which of course he was committed as an Anglican Bishop).
 HUME (1711 76) EMPIRICISM
Born in Edinburgh, the son of a Scottish landowner, David Hume was educated at Edinburgh University, where he studied arts (a
course which included the classics, philosophy, and some elementary science). He left without taking his degree. His family
wished him to enter the legal profession. But finding both this and banking uncongenial he devoted himself to the study of
philosophy. In 1734 he went to France and wrote his Treatise on Human Nature. This was, however, poorly received when it was
published (anonymously) in 1739-1740. "It fell dead-born from the press", he said. After thorough revision it was republished in
separate parts over a period of time some years later. In 1752 he was appointed librarian of the Faculty of Advocates in
Edinburgh, but despite two applications failed to secure a university post. He subsequently worked as private secretary to the
British Ambassador in Paris. He also achieved distinction as a historian and was the first great modern writer on the philosophy of
religion. Hume was a popular figure in literary circles in France he was called "le bon David", in Scotland "Saint David".
KNOWLEDGE
[1] As a preliminary to his overall programme to establish "a science of human nature", that is, a 'psychology' [Treatise, Introd.]
as far as possible along the lines of Newtonian physics [a], he thinks of man as a being who acts and reasons; and he is
concerned to discover the nature and limits of human knowledge. He is critical of what he calls 'antecedent' scepticism,
exemplified by Descartes' procedure of methodological doubt. [See Treatise, Book I, iv and v; Enquiry on Human Understanding,
XII.] While it is useful to be generally cautious in one's claims Hume thinks of this as a 'mitigated', moderate form of scepticism,
to doubt everything in the 'excessive' manner of Pyrrho, and then to claim, say, the 'cogito' as providing an indisputable or
infallible basis for knowledge is untenable. Instead Hume utilizes a 'consequent' scepticism which involves an examination of our
intellectual and sensory faculties though this too, as will be seen, has its own dangers if carried to the extreme. However, he
starts the Treatise by tracing the origins of our knowledge and criticizing traditional metaphysics [see also sec. 2] [b].
Knowledge, he says, derives only from sense-experience. He first of all distinguishes between impressions and ideas both of
which are mental contents [Treatise, I, i, 1]. Impressions are sensations, passions, and emotions; the having of an impression
constitutes perception. Ideas are faint copies or images of these in our thinking or reasoning. Impressions being 'immediate' to the
consciousness are stronger and more vivid or lively than ideas. Hume thus rejects the innate ideas of rationalist philosophers
(though impressions, but not ideas, may be accepted as innate in the trivial sense that they occur at and subsequent to our birth).
He goes on to make more distinctions [I, i, 1 and 2]. (1) Impressions may be of (a) sensation, (b) reflection [c]; and although in
general impressions precede ideas, Hume says that some ideas may produce further impressions and thence more ideas of
reflection (as when, for example, the idea of cold as pain produces in us an aversion to it). He allows that we may have an idea of
a colour, say a particular shade of blue, without our having a prior impression; we have the idea from our impressions of shades
on either side in the colour series, and the gap is filled by the imagination. (2) Both impressions and ideas may be (a) simple (a
patch of colour and our idea of it), or (b) complex (for example, a city its streets and buildings). An idea is simple if it cannot
be analysed into any component distinct ideas. "Every simple idea has a simple impression, which resembles it and every simple
impression a correspondent idea." Copying of impressions is achieved by either the memory or the imagination [I, i, 3]. Through
the former impressions give rise to further impressions, for example, of reflection; while imagination produces faint images.
Memory also preserves the order, position, and connection of our ideas: but the imagination combines ideas in any order. This
leads on to a discussion of relations, which Hume regarded as 'the work of the mind'. He uses the term in two senses [I, i, 4 and 5].
(1) Natural relations: these are qualities by which ideas are connected in our imagination through the uniting principle of
association. (2) Philosophical relations: these involve comparisons between any objects as a result of our will or choice [d]. The
natural relations are resemblance, contiguity in time or place, and cause and effect. There are, however, seven philosophical
relations: resemblance, identity, spatio-temporal relations, proportion in quantity or number, degrees of quality, contrariety, and
causation.
In I, i, 6 he examines the idea of substance. This is not derived from any particular impression, whether of sensation or reflection.
Rather we should regard it as nothing but a collection of simple ideas united by the imagination and to which we assign a given
name [e]. It is because of this that we commonly think of these qualities as referring to an unknown 'something' in which they
inhere, or at least as being connected by the relations of contiguity and causation. He contrasts this with ideas of modes (he gives
as examples the ideas of a dance and of beauty), which represent qualities not supposedly united by such relations. Hume's
rejection of the metaphysical concept of substance is paralleled by his critique of abstract general ideas ('universals') [I, i, 7].
Ideas, being copies of impressions, must be definite and determinate, and must also be of a particular impression. What then gives
rise to the general idea? We observe resemblances between objects which justify our giving them the same name. When we hear
the word the imagination produces an appropriate image, and is also ready to produce other resembling images. In this way the
particular images can become general in their representation [f].
All human reasonings or inquiries involve either 'knowledge' or 'probability'. In the Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding
Hume discusses this in terms of the distinction between 'relations of ideas' and 'matters of fact' [IV, 1]. (this is often referred to as
'Hume's fork'.) Relations of ideas are typically mathematical or logical and cannot be denied without contradiction (for example, 3
x 5 = 1/2 of 30). Hume says they are discovered by intuition (in the case of resemblance, contrariety, and degrees of quality) or by
demonstration, that is, deduction (in the case of proportion); and this gives us a priori knowledge. Matters of fact (for example,
that the sun will rise tomorrow), on the other hand, are discovered by observation and non-demonstrative inference and can be
denied without contradiction. They are known a posteriori [g]. Observation involves the philosophical relations of identity and
contiguity; while non-demonstrative inference, which is involved in all reasoning beyond immediate impressions, is founded on
the relation of causation. What is the basis of this relation? This is a central issue in Hume's theory of knowledge and belief.
It is clear, Hume says [Treatise, I, iii, 2-6.], that the idea of cause must be derived from a relation between objects; we cannot find
any quality common to the impressions we call 'causes'. He argues, firstly, that causes and effects are usually contiguous, that is,
physically adjacent in space, either immediately or mediately (as in a chain). Further, a cause is temporarily prior to its effects. Of
even greater importance is the idea of necessary connection. But where does this idea come from? In the Treatise Hume resolves
this question into two. (1) Why do we suppose that it is necessary that everything that comes to exist should have a cause? (2)
Why do we believe that particular causes necessarily have particular effects? What kind of inference is involved? As to (1), the
principle is discovered neither by intuition nor by demonstration, it is not a relation of ideas; there is no contradiction in denying
that something can begin to exist without a cause. (2) The causal inference must be grounded in experience not in any intuitive
knowledge of 'essences'. And our belief rests on what he calls constant conjunction of particular instances (and thus invokes
memory). What Hume means is that we observe event A on a number of occasions as being both contiguous with and prior to
event B, and call A the cause and B the effect. It is from observation of these repeated impressions that the idea of necessity arises
through the activity of the imagination. It is, says Hume, nothing more than an internal tendency, produced by custom, that is,
through association, to pass from one impression to the other. As a natural relation (and here Hume gives a psychological
analysis), a cause is defined as "An object precedent and contiguous to another and so united with it that the idea of the one
determines the mind to form the idea of the other, and the impression of the one to form a more lively idea of the other" [Treatise,
I, iii, 14]. As a philosophical relation (a conceptual analysis), cause is defined in terms of the placing of all the objects resembling
an object in a like relation of priority and contiguity to those objects resembling the object to which it is precedent and contiguous
[Ibid.]. His formulation of this 'philosophical' definition is similar (though simpler) in the Enquiry [VI, 2 (para. 60)]: "an object.
followed by another, and where all the objects similar to the first are followed by objects similar to the second". But he concludes
with a different formulation what in today's terminology is called a counterfactual conditional: "Or in other words where, if the
first object had not been, the second never had existed". Hume also says that it is only so far as it is a natural relation, and
produces a union among our ideas, that we are able to reason about it or draw inferences from it [Treatise, I, iii, 6]. He stresses
further that there is only one kind of cause: he rejects the traditional distinction between the four causes efficient, formal,
material, and final [I, iii, 14]. (In the Enquiry on Human Understanding [VI] he distinguishes between regular cause-effect
sequences, such as the production of motion by gravity, which is a 'universal law', and chance sequences, such as the purgative
effect of rhubarb. But he says that the latter are not to be attributed to any irregularity in nature; rather we should suppose there
are 'secret causes' in the structures which have prevented the operation. Our reasonings about causation and custom remain the
same. Hume's position is that if there are any causes in 'reality' we can have no knowledge of them) [h].
Hume also examines the ideas of space, time, and existence. Rejecting the notion of infinite divisibility of impressions and ideas
(there are only minima of visible and tangible points, he says, beyond which no further division can be imagined) [Enquiry 124],
he thinks of space and time (and thence the ideas of space and time) as the ways in which bodies are revealed to our senses [i]
as adjacent, through visual and tactile sensation, and as succession of perceptions in general [Treatise I, iii. 1-5]. As for existence,
he argues that the idea of existence (and of external existence) is the very same as the idea of that which we conceive to be
existent [I, ii. 6] [j]. This, for example, when we affirm God exists we are merely forming the idea of such a being [I, iii, 7].
[2] Hume distinguishes between knowledge and belief. As we have seen, knowledge is confined to relations of ideas, which
although certain (by virtue of the logical connection between those ideas) tell us nothing about the world, and to those matters of
fact, which are grounded in impressions (for example, 'This book is red') and are only probable (though it is not easy to be
mistaken about them). Belief, on the other hand, is defined as "a lively idea related to or associated with a present impression" [I,
iii, 7]. It is an act of the mind whereby assent is given to an idea (and Hume says that it differs from a 'fiction' only in the manner
in which the idea is conceived). He also argues that judgement and reasoning (both of which involve the separating or uniting of
different ideas reasoning involving additionally the interposition of other ideas) are resolvable into conception, which is the
"simple survey of one or more ideas" [ibid.]. We can thus perhaps say that the 'content' of judgements is the same as that of
conceptions [a]. Belief is a consequence of habit; and it comes into play when we seek to pass beyond immediate experience. This
would seem to give rise to a difficulty with causation, not least because Hume says [Enquiry, IV, 22] that all 'reasonings' (that is,
inferences, including 'inductive' arguments) concerning matters of fact are founded on the relation of cause and effect. In
appealing to our memory of constant conjunctions of past instances Hume presupposes that future instances of which we
obviously have no experience will resemble those which we have experienced; in other words, that the course of nature is
uniform [Treatise, I, iii, 6]. This assumption cannot be proved by demonstrative inference; no relation of ideas is involved. Nor
can it be derived from probability, because although it involves appeal to experience it is itself founded on the presumption of a
principle of the uniformity of resemblances between past and future objects [b]. Nevertheless, says Hume, we have to accept it,
believe it, if we are to pursue our lives as rational agents. Similar considerations apply to his account of external bodies, minds,
and God.
External bodies. [Treatise, I, iv, 2.] Given Hume's account of knowledge, it would seem that we can know nothing of objects
existing externally to and independently of minds. All our perceptions, both of primary and secondary qualities, are in some sense
'internal' or within ourselves, and our knowledge is therefore confined to collections of impressions and ideas. Nevertheless, we
have a natural belief in the continuous existence of objects; and since this belief is due neither to our senses nor to the reason, it
must again be attributed to the imagination. And Hume draws attention to (a) the constancy, and (b) the coherence of some of our
impressions as characteristics of our experience upon which the imagination can operate. Even when a sequence of impressions is
interrupted in space and time, both imagination and memory step in, as it were, to fill the gaps, thereby supporting our belief in
continuous existence and in the identity of particular bodies [c].
Minds. [I, iv, 5.] As we can have no coherent idea of substance (material or immaterial) in which our extended perceptions can
inhere, clearly we can have no knowledge of any mental 'substance' or 'soul'. Furthermore, to regard my impressions and ideas as
modifications of a soul 'substance' (as the 'theologians' do) must lead to atheism, because we cannot distinguish between
perceptions and objects which, according to Spinoza's "hideous hypothesis", are but modifications of the one substance. So
what can be said of personal identity, a permanent 'self'? Hume says [I, iv, 6] that when he looks within himself all he encounters
are sets of perceptions which appear, glide, pass away as if in a kind of theatre. Once more it is our memory which produces
chains of images of past perceptions and enables us to become aware of causal connections. The imagination works on these
sequences and gives rise to belief in continuity and identity However, Hume maintained that perceptions are "distinct existences"
and that the mind never perceives any real connections between them. It also follows that while he did not reject the logical
possibility of immortality, survival of a 'soul' could hardly be held consistently with his premisses [d].
As consequence of his philosophical assumptions and arguments it would seem that Hume has himself been led into an 'extreme'
scepticism despite his criticisms of Descartes. And indeed, in the Treatise [I, iv, 7], beset by doubts and uncertainties, he
fancies himself "in the most deplorable condition imaginable, environed with the deepest darkness, and utterly deprived of every
member and faculty". These clouds are dispelled only after he has given up his philosophizing and has sought amusement with his
friends conversation, a game of backgammon, after which he no longer has the heart to return to speculations which now seem
"so cold, strained, and ridiculous". However, in the Enquiry [117ff.] his 'consequent' scepticism is more moderate. He recognises
that, although we can never be immune from error, at some point we must make a stand, accept what is in the last analysis only
probable the existence of the external world, a continuous self, causation; for this is essential for our orderly day-to-day
activities. Scepticism is beneficial to the extent that it encourages the cultivation of a non-dogmatic, critical stance [e]. Because
our commonsense beliefs cannot be justified rationally in a strict sense it does not mean they are irrational in a narrow sense in
the way that superstitions and prejudices are. But what then is the difference between sensible and absurd beliefs? Hume
[Treatise, I, iii, 7-9] differentiates between genuine belief and fancy. In genuine belief the idea assented to has a different 'feel'
from that accompanying a fanciful or fictitious idea. It is characterized by force, vivacity, firmness, or steadiness. Genuine belief
is thus an act of the 'sensitive' rather than the 'cogitative' part of our nature [1, iv, 11]. And he says that they may have either
natural causes, involving causal relations and uniformities, or artificial.causes, arising from our education. However, either source
may also produce irrational beliefs or fancies. Ultimately we must rely on our senses faith in which seems to be a natural, blind
and powerful instinct [Enquiry 118] to test and support our reasonings.
MORAL SENSE THEORY/ UTILITARIANISM
[3] How do we discover the foundations of morals? Is it through our reason or through sentiment (feeling)? Arguments in favour
of either are so plausible, Hume says [Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, section 1], that both may "concur in almost all
moral determinations and conclusions". He therefore proposes to follow a simple method. This will consist of an analysis of "that
complication of mental qualities, which form what, in common life, we call Personal Merit". What he intends to do in morals
(which is for him an aspect of the wider study of man or human nature) is in fact comparable to what Newton did for physics: to
follow the "experimental method, and deduce general maxims from a comparison of particular instances". We should consider
only those arguments which are derived from experience, and "reject every system of ethics, however subtle or ingenious, which
is not founded on fact or observation" .
He starts his examination of human nature by identifying the two social virtues, Benevolence and Justice. By benevolence [sec.
II] Hume means "natural philanthropy" [V, 21] or "a feeling for the happiness of mankind and a resentment of their misery" [I, 1].
This affection for humanity is manifested in such qualities as mercy, sociability, generosity, and so on [II, 1]. In II, 2 he argues
that part of the merit of such a person's actions lies in their utility, that is, other people derive happiness from them in so far as
they offer love or friendship, or provide for those in need. Such utility also explains why such actions are so universally approved.
Hume regards the "public utility" or "the true interests of mankind" as the primary means by which we may determine our duty
[a]. And he says that many actions or life-styles which appear at first sight to be praiseworthy or reprehensible may subsequently
turn out to deserve the opposite description when experience reveals the true consequences. Similar considerations apply to
Justice, by which he means, roughly, the arrangements for determining the possession of the goods or property which will ensure
an individual's happiness: "anything which it is lawful for him, and for him alone to use" [III, 3]. But in III, 1 Hume proceeds to
show that, in the case of this social virtue, utility is the sole origin. In support of his claim he points out that there could be no
place for justice in extreme situations such as either (a) a "golden age", when mankind lacked for nothing and lived in perfect
harmony and tolerance, or (b) (with reference to Hobbes) a "state of nature" characterized by want, ignorance and savagery. So
the rules of justice must depend on the condition men are placed in and on the 'public utility' that follows from their observance.
Justice is an 'artificial' and conventional not a 'natural' virtue, the rules of which relate to the preservation of peace and order in
society and thereby to the public interest. [Treatise III, ii, 1] [b]. The ideas of property thus become necessary in a society
which operates between extremes; and hence arise the usefulness, merit and moral obligation of justice. To support this account of
justice and public utility Hume discusses [Enquiry III, 2; IV] particular laws both within a given state and between nations, and
the rules or conventions which hold between individuals in matters of friendship, etiquette, and so on. There must even be honour
among thieves if their "pernicious confederacy" is to be maintained [IV].
Hume now [V] raises the important question why we approve of the social virtues on account of their utility. What alternative
accounts can be given of the origin of moral distinctions? They cannot all have arisen from education; such descriptions as
'honourable', 'shameful', 'lovely', 'odious' must have had their source in the "original constitution of the mind", if they were to be
intelligible [V, 1 ]. Neither could morality be grounded in self-love or private interest; "the voice of nature and experience seems
plainly to oppose the selfish theory" [ibid]. Moreover, he says, we often praise actions in other places or times which could not be
remotely relevant to our self-interest. Sometimes we even approve of the actions of an adversary which could be contrary to our
interests. Nevertheless, he argues [V, 2] that the interest of each individual (self-love) cannot be divorced from his concern for the
general interest of the community [c].
Hume's position may still seem a little unclear. He has rejected self-love as the basis of morality but has stressed the
interdependence of the individual's self-interest and that of society. And yet we may still approve of the actions of others even
when they conflict with our interests. How does utility relate to the self? Why does public utility, as he puts it. "please"? His
answer is to appeal to the notion of sympathy. What he means by this is explained in the Treatise on Human Nature [II, i, 11] in
terms of the association of ideas. But in the Enquiry [V, 2] he thinks of sympathy as arising directly from a capacity we all possess
of putting ourselves, by means of our imagination, in the place of another person and of praising or blaming him for exhibiting
qualities which would arouse in us pride or humiliation respectively if we possessed them. In other words through sympathy we
experience the sentiments of humanity and benevolence [d]. A man, says Hume [V, 1], cannot be indifferent to the happiness or
misery of his fellow beings. Whatever promotes their happiness is good, what tends to their misery is evil. And we discover from
our experience that utility is in all circumstances a source of approval and a foundation for morals [e]. Not surprisingly, Hume
argues in section VI that the sentiment of humanity and the moral sentiment are originally the same because they are governed by
the same laws, and are moved by the same objects. Furthermore, the fact that we approve of such qualities as temperance,
patience, presence of mind, and so on, which serve the possessor alone without claim to any public value, cannot be attributed to
any theory of self-love on our part, but rather supports a doctrine of disinterested benevolence [f] which ensures that there is no
incompatibility in the community between morality and utility [see also Appendix II]. In VI, 2 Hume seeks to support his theory
further by reference to our regard for "bodily endowments" and the "goods of fortune". And in Section VII he examines qualities
which appear to be valued for the immediate pleasure they bring to their possessor rather than for their utility: but he argues that
in all such instances social sympathy operates and that there is therefore no inconsistency with his general theory. Similar
considerations apply to qualities "immediately agreeable to others" [VIII]. In section IX Hume summarizes his theory and also
affirms that the individual's 'interested obligation' to virtue is a consequence of his self-interest his regard for his own
happiness in the practice of his moral duty. "The sole trouble which [virtue] demands, is that of just calculation, and a steady
preference of the greater happiness" [228].
Hume can now [Appendix 1] return to the question raised at the beginning of the Enquiry, namely whether the foundation of
morals is to be sought in reason or sentiment. He recognises that reason has a role to play in assessing the consequences of actions
and determining their utility, but he asserts that it is through sentiment, or 'moral sense', that we gain insight into morality itself
[g]. In support of his view that reason cannot be the sole source of morals he offers five "considerations".
(1) Reason, he says, can judge either of matters of fact or of relations. But in the case of certain 'crimes', for example ingratitude,
it is the sentiment that determines their immorality. Morality cannot consist in the relation of actions to rules; to determine the
"rule of right" reason would have to start from a consideration of those very relations themselves. 'Virtue' is thus defined as
"whatever mental action or quality gives to a spectator the pleasing sentiment of approbation" (and 'vice' the contrary) [h].
(2) There is a distinction in method or procedure between 'speculative' reasoning and moral deliberations. In the former we
consider what is known and infer from it something which was previously unknown, whereas in the case of the latter all the
objects and their relations must be known so that we base our approbation or blame on the total situation.
(3) Moral beauty can be compared with natural beauty; in our apprehension of both, approval (or disapproval) arise from
contemplation of the whole and through the sentiments rather than by the intellectual faculties.
(4) If morality consisted merely in relations it would apply as much to inanimate objects as it does to moral agents.
(5) The ultimate ends of human actions can never be accounted for by reason. If you ask someone why he exercises he will say it
is because he desires health, sickness is painful, and he hates pain. What more is there to be said? There can be no infinite
progression; "something must be desirable on its own account, and because of its immediate accord or agreement with human
sentiment and affection".
The bounds of reason and taste are thus easily ascertained. "The former gives us knowledge of truth and falsehood: the latter gives
the sentiment of beauty and deformity, vice and virtue". (He is critical of attempts to account for such sentiments by
"metaphysical reasonings" or by deductions from abstract principles [Enquiry I].) It is only taste that can become a motive for
action [i], in so far as it gives pleasure or pain and therefore happiness or misery."Cool and disengaged" reason can do no more
than direct the impulse received from appetite or inclination. Hume is thus setting out a more moderate version of the assertion to
be found in the Treatise [II, iii, 3]:
We speak not strictly and philosophically, when we talk of the combat of passion and of reason. Reason is, and ought only to be,
the slave of the passions, and can never pretend to any other office than to serve and obey them.
One further important point remains to be noted. As a corollary to his subordination of reason to sentiment as the means of
discovering virtue and vice, Hume had already, earlier in the Treatise [III, i, 1], drawn attention to an observation which he thinks
may be of "some importance". In every system of morality he has encountered he has found that the author has moved
imperceptibly from assertions about what 'is' or 'is not' to claims about what 'ought' or 'ought not' be done. It seems altogether
inconceivable, he says, how this new relation can be a deduction from others of a different kind. Hume's point is that in so far as
moral distinctions are derived from a 'moral sense' one's own particular sentiment they do not involve inferences of reason.
The distinction of vice and virtue is neither founded on relations nor is perceived by reason. There can therefore be no inference
from an 'is' to an 'ought' [j].
 POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY
[4] Hume rejects the idea of an original 'state of nature' as being a fiction [a], arguing that primitive people join together, initially
in sexual relationships, and then in larger societies, as they become aware of the value of community in providing remedies for
the 'inconveniences' of life. Society enables them to increase their power and abilities, gives them security against chance
adversities, and guarantees their possession of property. Utility is thus the fundamental concept in his political philosophy [ III, ii,
2]. Utility is also the basis of government: government is successful to the extent that it can establish and administer justice and
run schemes for the common good [III, ii, 7] [b]. Nevertheless Hume says that society can exist without government (as American
Indian tribes show) [ii, 8]. How then did government originate? Hume is not certain, but he says it may well have arisen out of
inter-tribal conflict; it has the advantage of preserving peace and order. The idea of a formal 'social contract' is another fiction [c].
Allegiance to a government lies again in its utility [ii, 8-9]. But Hume is not concerned with any quest for an ideal or utopian
society such as Plato's or More's. And generally he regards it as irrelevant whether authority in the state is sanctioned by long-
term possession, conquest, or right whether 'divine', inherited, or empowered by government [ii, 10; see also Idea of a Perfect
Commonwealth; Of the Original Contract]. Finally, similar considerations of utility determine 'laws of nations' and inter-state
relationships [ii, 11]. But he adds that the natural obligation to justice between nations is less strong that it is between individuals
within a society; for it is the latter that the essentials of life are preserved. And he allows degrees of strength in moral obligation as
between 'princes or ministers' and 'private' persons, but not a different morality altogether.

'METAPHYSICS'/ PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION

[5] While it is arguable that 'metaphysical' assumptions underlie Hume's empiricism, he is an uncompromising critic of traditional
metaphysics:
If we take in our hand any volume; of divinity or school metaphysics, for instance; let us ask, Does it contain any abstract
reasoning concerning quantity or number? No. Does it contain any experimental reasoning concerning matter of fact and
existence? No. Commit it then to the flames: for it can contain nothing but sophistry and illusion. [Enquiry concerning the Human
Understanding, 132]
Not surprisingly, he is generally dismissive of supposed proofs for the existence of God, though he does not reject the possibility
out of hand that the universe is attributable to some ultimate intelligence. We cannot prove that God exists from any a priori
reasoning (such as variations of what we now call the Cosmological Argument). [See Enquiry, XI; Dialogues concerning Natural
Religion.] We may attempt to argue from nature to God as an intelligent designer, a 'workman', but such a being lies beyond our
experience [a]; and even if such an inference were valid, it could tell us no more about the cause than what is already known as
effects in nature. Still less could it provide us with any expectation about the future course of events in nature or guidance for our
own choices. The hypothesis of a God is therefore useless. He likewise rejects any argument which appeals to so-called miracles
[Enquiry, X; Dialogues]. These are by definition 'extraordinary' occurrences, which are, in contrast to the 'ordinary' events of our
normal experience, improbable. Indeed, they are breaches of laws of nature [b]. If we were to accept an event as being
miraculous, strong evidence would be required [Dialogues, 113]. This means that the historical evidence adduced in favour of the
alleged miraculous event as having occurred would have to outweigh the totality of the evidence available to us based on our
experience which leads us to suppose that such events could not have happened [ibid., 127]. A miracle could be accepted only
if it were even more miraculous that the evidence for it was false. Neither can we accept alleged miracles as a basis for religion,
because firstly there is a greater probability that stories of miracles have been fabricated; and secondly all religions invoke
miracles. But if not all religions are true, then clearly most of the supposed miraculous occurrences must be false. It might be said
that men have a natural belief in God. But Hume argues that the evidence does not support this claim. Many primitive societies
were animistic or polytheistic and indeed were often for all intents and purposes atheistic. Hume dismisses the dogmas and
beliefs of Christians as likewise so much superstition. What 'true' religion there is must concerned with no more than the
recognition that any cause of order in the universe "probably bears some remote analogy to human intelligence". Only thus far
would religious belief seem to be acceptable and God's existence in some limited sense be feasible. Otherwise he is severely
critical of religion; it not only leads to fanaticism but also is actually harmful to morality in so far as religious people, he thinks,
tend to act for reasons other than for the sake of virtue.
Another argument brings together the problems of human freedom and evil [Treatise, II, iii, 1,2; Enquiry, VIII]. Hume has argued
that through the activity of the imagination we suppose the causal relation to be 'necessary' [see sec. 1]. But he now says that
when we act we do so from choice. However, this does not mean our actions are uncaused, the products of chance (what he calls
"liberty of indifference"). Rather he affirms "liberty of spontaneity", by which he means that we act freely without external
constraint but as a consequence of our motives and in the light of our knowledge. Thus free actions are still caused, but caused by
ourselves as agents [c]. Now if there is a God He must be the cause of our actions, and therefore either He must be responsible for
moral evil or there are no evil actions. However, we can account for these in terms of human sentiment; our feeling determines
what is good or bad. As for God being the cause of moral evil, Hume rejects the possibility as being beyond human reason [d]; it
is, he says, perhaps ironically, a "sublime mystery". [See VIII, 2.]
CRITICAL SUMMARY
Hume's philosophy is a through-going empiricism; he has eliminated all rationalist or theistic elements still remaining in the
thought of his immediate empiricist predecessors. Commentators disagree, however, as to how he should be interpreted. He has
usually been regarded as promoting a scepticism which Kant, in particular sought to overcome. But it has been argued recently
that he is more accurately to be seen as a 'naturalist' seeking to account for all our beliefs, about ourselves as well as the world, in
terms of basic principles of human nature. There is probably no serious inconsistency between these two views. While seemingly
depressed in the Treatise by the cul de sac into which his philosophical arguments have driven him, in the Enquiry concerning
Human Understanding he clearly distinguishes between "excessive" (Pyrrhonian) scepticism and a more "mitigated scepticism"
resulting from the correction of the former by common sense and reflection. The so-called 'gap' between evidence and conclusions
can for all practical or everyday purposes be ignored. Nevertheless, there is a great deal in his philosophy which continues to be
the subject of debate.
(1) His fundamental distinction between impression and ideas in terms of their quality is not as obvious as might be supposed.
The criterion of vivacity is psychological and subjective, and not always supported by our experience. Moreover, he does not
really consider the precise role played by the mind. Can we have bare sensations from which we derive ideas and beliefs? Some
philosophers argue that sensation is inseparable from belief, both being interpenetrating aspects of perception as a whole. The
view that 'private' sensibilia can provide a basis for knowledge (if Hume's thesis can be interpreted in this way) has also been
criticized by most philosophers working within the 'ordinary language' analytic tradition.
(2) Truths of reason provide us with certain knowledge (though not about the world). Matters of fact give us only probable
knowledge. Does this differ from belief? Hume's accounts of both probability and belief are again psychological. He talks of
probability as a stronger belief opposed by a weaker and incompatible one; while belief is described in terms of the 'strength' and
'liveliness' of ideas arising from their association with present impressions. It is not clear how this process of association works.
Do we have an innate propensity for it, or does it itself arise from experience?
(3) Probable knowledge is dependent on causation. Hume's analysis of this concept is particularly controversial. Are his two
definitions (three if one includes what is in effect an appeal to counterfactual conditionals) compatible? The first seems to be a
realist definition, the second is psychological and is consistent with there being no causation in nature at all. Either way Hume's
analyses do not satisfactorily distinguish between 'genuine' causal and 'coincidental' regularities. As for the underlying principle of
uniformity of nature, on Hume's thesis this has to be accepted pragmatically.
(4) Hume's account of personal identity might be criticized for providing an inadequate criterion of individuation, sameness, and
continuity.
(5) The central concepts of Hume's moral philosophy have also given rise to much discussion. (i) Is benevolence approved of for
itself, because we find it pleasing, or for its utility (which is determined by reason although our approval stems from sentiment)?
The test of justice is solely utility, but it has been claimed that his interpretation of justice in terms of property is narrow, and that
the two virtues taken together fail to reconcile private and public interest satisfactorily. It has also been suggested that Hume
invokes utility for purely explanatory purposes rather than regarding it as a deontological principle on the basis of which one
might decide which action one should pursue. (ii) While Hume is in effect critical of attempts to derive value judgements from
factual premisses, it has been objected that in his own ethics he does just that in so far as he endows utility with moral worth.
Against this it might be said that he nevertheless locates our perception of duty in sympathy, which is a sentiment. There is also a
problem concerning his concept of 'interested obligation' in the light of his view that any move from an 'is' statement to an 'ought'
statement is illegitimate. However, it can be argued that he is claiming no more than that it is reasonable for human beings
possessing in common the sentiment of benevolence and a concern for self-interest to act accordingly to promote the greater
happiness: this is what the rational man of sentiment can be expected to do if he is to be true to himself (as we might put it).
'Obligation' is thus to be understood as an expression of the individual's intrinsic humanity and integrity rather than an absolute
moral imperative. Nevertheless this remains contentious.
(6) His criticisms of religion and, in particular, miracles have made a considerable impact on later thought. The main difficulty
with his account, however, lies with the concept of evidence how it is to be measured and assessed. Hume is saying that
miracles are improbable not logically impossible. He might have added that what seems to us at a particular moment in history to
be in breach of the laws of nature might at some time in the future be accommodated within the framework of scientific
explanation.
KANT (1724 1804)
CRITICAL IDEALISM
Immanuel Kant incontrovertibly was one of the West's greatest philosophers. The son of a saddler of Scottish descent, spent his
whole life in the Prussian city of Knigsberg (now in Poland). After studying mathematics, theology and philosophy he earned a
living as a private tutor, but later became a lecturer and then in 1770 Professor at the University, where he taught a wide range of
subjects. Though a confirmed bachelor he had an eye for pretty and educated ladies. He was a man of regular habits; it is said that
the inhabitants of Knigsberg could always tell the time from his daily walks. In general his life was uneventful and
uncontroversial, though in 1794 a book on religion which he had published brought him into conflict with the King of Prussia.

KNOWLEDGE AND METAPHYSICS

KNOWLEDGE
[1] Kant argued that there are fundamental difficulties with both the 'rationalist' and 'empiricist' philosophical traditions. This can
be seen by looking at two distinctions he makes about subject-predicate judgements. A subject-predicate judgement in 'traditional'
formal logic is one like 'All bachelors are male', where 'bachelor' is the subject and 'maleness' is the predicate. By a 'judgement'
Kant means something that is asserted by somebody when uttering or writing a sentence, for example, 'The grass is green'. He
considers all judgements as "functions of unity among our representations" which involve the collecting of immediate
representations under 'higher' representations, and thus concerns the relationship of predicates to their subjects [Critique of Pure
Reason, A 69, B 94; see also sec. 9]. His first distinction [CPR, Introd. I] divides subject-predicate sentences into two kinds
according as to how we decide whether they are true or false. An a priori judgement is one whose truth or falsity can be
determined without direct reference to experience, for example, 'All circles are round'; once we know what the terms 'circle' and
'round' mean we can decide its truth. An a posteriori judgement, on the other hand, is one like 'It was sunny on Friday', where its
truth can be determined only by reference to the actual experience; understanding the terms is not enough. Kant's second
distinction is between analytic judgements and synthetic judgements [CPR, Introd. IV]. An analytic judgement is one in which the
predicate is in some sense already contained in the subject. For example, 'All bodies are extended' is analytic because the idea of
body in some way includes the idea of extension. Kant therefore calls analytic judgements 'explicative'. A synthetic judgement, on
the other hand, is one in which the predicate is not included in the subject, for example, 'All bodies are heavy' because the idea of
body does not have to include the idea of heaviness. Kant calls synthetic judgements 'ampliative'. While analytic judgements may
be said to be 'necessarily' true, synthetic judgements are not logically certain; they may be true (or false) 'contingently' [a].
Combining the two distinctions Kant now has:

1. Analytic a priori judgements. These are clearly possible; if they are analytic then their truth has to be known a priori; and they
cannot tell us anything about the world.

2. Analytic a posteriori judgements. It obviously follows from what has just been said in (1) that judgements of this kind are not
possible.

3. Synthetic a posteriori judgements. Kant finds no difficulty with these. If our knowledge of their truth (or falsity) depends in
some way on our experience of the world, then they cannot be analytic.

4. Synthetic a priori judgements. There is clearly a problem here. Empiricists would say that the truth of judgements belonging to
this fourth group must depend on experience and therefore cannot be known a priori. But Kant argues that such judgements are
possible. This can be understood if we look at what he says about the judgements of mathematics and natural science [ CPR
Introd. V].

Hume had argued that the truths of mathematics, being analytic (to use Kant's word), can tell us nothing about the external world.
But his empiricism can be shown to lead to scepticism; for although he was convinced that external objects are the cause of our
impressions and hence ideas, the causal principle itself seems to be neither analytic nor derivable from experience. Kant's
suggested solution to this problem involves showing that judgements of arithmetic, (Euclidean) geometry, and (Newtonian)
science, while not analytic, are yet necessarily true of the empirical world to which they relate, and are thus known a priori. This
is because he believes that such judgements relate to the co-existence and succession of finite magnitudes [b] which can be
presented to the mind only through the 'forms of intuition' of space and time [see sec. 2]. Moreover mathematics underpins the
natural science though additionally this is grounded in synthetic principles relating to connections between things and which
are prior to experience in so far as they are derived from 'forms of the understanding' such as causality [see sec. 2]. It is in
justifying these claims that Kant in his 'critical' philosophy is in effect setting out the conditions under which we through our
rational faculty can know objects and thereby exhibiting the limits of metaphysics [c].
[2] Kant's theory of knowledge is developed in the first main division of the First Critique, which he calls the Transcendental
Doctrine of the Elements. The first part is the Transcendental Aesthetic [B 33-73]. As against both the rationalists and the
empiricists, Kant thinks a sharp distinction must be made between sensations and 'ideas' or perceptions. He therefore identifies
two faculties, (passive) sensibility and (active) understanding (Verstand) an aspect of the faculty of reason (Vernunft) [B 327].
Kant's terminology is unfortunately sometimes ambiguous. But in general he argues that sensibility is the capacity to receive
'representations' of external objects. (He uses 'representations', Vorstellungen in a wide sense to include all mental contents or
cognitive states [a] perceptions, 'representations of representations' as judgements [see sec. 1], images, and so on). This is
effected by means of two 'forms of intuition' (Anschauungen), space and time, which in some sense belong to our perceptual
apparatus (time relating to the 'inner sensiility', space to the 'outer'). A form may perhaps be thought of loosely as a kind of built-in
filter or lens through which sensory data must pass. Sensations (Empfindungen), or 'sensuous empirical intuitions'
(Anschauungen) constitute the 'matter' of appearances (Erscheinungen); space and time contribute the 'form' to those appearances.
The faculty of sensibility, although passive, thus in effect takes our sensations of material things and arranges them in "certain
relations" to produce appearances. Space and time, for Kant, are thus a priori and necessary (and also themselves intuitions); and
he rejects both 'absolutist' and 'relativist' accounts. He says that they are empirically real but transcendentally ideal [b]. He means
by this that although they are prior to experience they are necessary if we are to have knowledge of objects, and indeed they
contribute to it [Transc. Aesthetic, secs I & II]. For experience and knowledge to be possible, however, understanding is also
required. As he says, "thoughts without content are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind" [B 75]. The understanding, by
means of its capacity to synthesize, orders appearances under its own forms or categories, such as reality, existence, substance,
causality, as a result of which the appearances become phenomena. The categories are not innate ideas (which Kant rejected) but,
as it were, built into and derived from the mind's structure and activity [B 105-6] [c].
Because of the joint effects of the sensibility and understanding we necessarily perceive the world in a particular way. So rather
than our having to conform to the world, the world of experience conforms to us. Kant calls this his "Copernican Revolution" [B
xvi, xxii .]. He thus dismisses both realism and 'material' idealism. 'Realism' includes the rationalism of Wolff (following
Leibniz), who supposed we might gain access to reality and truth (to ideas, be they 'innate' or 'transcendent') though logic and the
exercise of pure reason [xxxv-xxxvii]. (Plato too might well be included in this category [see B 370ff.].) Kant also rejects
empiricist philosophies, according to which knowledge of the real world can be obtained directly by means of sense-experience.
He regards Aristotle as the chief of the empiricists, Locke being "inconsistent" [B 882]. As for the material idealists, he
distinguishes [B 274-5] 'dogmatic' idealists, such as Berkeley, who (according to Kant) says that the existence of things outside us
is impossible; 'problematic' idealists (for example, Descartes, for whom the existence of external things is doubtful there being
only one indubitable assertion, namely, that 'I am'). And he refers [A 377] to 'sceptical' idealists (he no doubt has Hume in mind),
who say the existence of matter (and external objects) cannot be proved. Kant's own thesis is that what we actually experience are
phenomena, that is, external things as they appear to us under the a priori forms of intuition of space and time and organized by
the categories of the understanding; we can have no knowledge of external objects in themselves (noumena), nor of anything
which transcends the limits of experience, in particular God, freedom, and immortality (Ideas of Reason) [B xxx]. This
illegitimate 'transcendent' metaphysics is the result of attempting to push pure reason beyond its permissible limits rather than
confining it to its role as understanding. He calls this new philosophy Transcendental Idealism. Implicit in this philosophy is
Kant's affirmation of a clear dichotomy between the natural and the intelligible realm [B 44, A 369] [d]. [See further secs. 4, 6,
and 10 below.]

[3] The forms of the understanding are investigated in the second part of the Transcendental Doctrine of the Elements the
Transcendental Logic [First Division: Transcendental Analytic] Kant there examines three issues: (1) what the forms are; (2) why
they are needed for experience; (3) how they are used.
1. [Analytic of Concepts, ch. I, B92-116.] In answer to the first point, he says that pure forms (the categories) are basic concepts.
When concepts are used by the understanding they make up statements. The job of statements is to unify our representations. To
find the basic concepts he adopts Aristotle's classification of statements into four types: quantity, quality, relation, modality [a].
The twelve categories can then be listed under these headings. Thus, Unity, Plurality, and Totality are associated with quantity;
Reality and Negation are linked with quality; Substance and Causality [see sec. 3] with relation; and corresponding to modality
we find such categories as Possibility and Necessity.
2. [Analytic of Concepts, ch. 2.]. Kant's next step is to attempt a transcendental 'deduction' of the categories [a] which will 'justify'
our use of them [1st edition: A 96-130; 2nd edition: B 130-169]. In other words, he wants to show why and how they are
necessary. Suppose I have an experience of an object: say I see a tree. Now if I am to think of this experience both as being mine
and as a unity [A 97-103, B 150-2] (the trunk, leaves, colours, shapes, etc. all make up one experience), then according to Kant
there must be two conditions.

Firstly, it must be possible for the "I think" to accompany all my perceptions [B 131 ff.]. He means by this that there has to be a
sense of a unifying 'self' to hold the perceptions together in the one experience. In Kant's language, we have to regard the
manifold as subject to "the transcendental unity of apperception" [A 107, B 143]. This is a formal condition of experience
whereby one is able to think of one's experiences as one's own as belonging to a single consciousness. Moreover, this unity
would not be possible if such experience did not conform to the categories. However, Kant rejects 'rational psychology'. This
unifying 'self' is not to be understood as a mental substance of any kind; nor is it an empirical notion, a 'bundle of [discrete]
perceptions', for example, or everyday self-consciousness our knowledge of which the Transcendental Unity of Apperception
itself presupposes. We can have no knowledge or intuition of a noumenal self as such though such a 'transcendental ego' seems
on one interpretation to remain as a postulate.) [See CS (3) below] [b].
Secondly, we must also suppose there is a "Transcendental Object" (Kant calls it 'X' [A 104-6; cf. B 139] ), that is, a real thing
which exists in the world before we experience it and to which our representations can be referred to in accordance with 'rules'
[see, for example, A 108, 114, 126]. (Such rules tell us in some sense how our representations relate to the same object and how
that object guarantees a unity between those representations.) This Transcendental Object is thus unlike the noumenon in that it is
not an empty concept but is an a priori formal concept, a presupposition of experience, giving it unity so that it can be of an
objective world. As such

it is not itself an object of knowledge, but only the representation of appearances under the concept of an object in general a
concept which is determinable through the manifold of those appearances. [A 251]
The concept of such an object is itself not an empirical one; we cannot derive it from experience by any kind of 'abstraction' or
'association' of ideas [B 142]. Moreover, we are directly aware of external objects rather than only our own ideas behind the
perception of which such objects might be supposed to exist. These objects do exist independent of our perceptions [A 109-10,
820, B 137, 142, 276], but we know them as phenomenal objects in space and time and not as noumena (whether understood as a
limiting concept or as unknowable things in themselves) [B 277] [see CS (3)] [c]. Kant also argues that this unity is the same as
that needed for the "I think" to accompany someone's experience, and that both the 'subjective' and the 'objective' unity
presuppose the categories:
The original and necessary consciousness of the identity of the self is thus at the same time a consciousness of the identity of an
equally necessary unity of the synthesis of all appearances according to concepts, that is, according to rules, which not only make
them necessarily reproducible but also in so doing determine an object for their intuition, that is, the concept of something
wherein they are necessarily connected. [A 108; cf.119, 126-7]
3. [Analytic of Principles, ch. II B 176-294.] Before going on to look at how the categories are used Kant has to deal with a
problem. The categories are a priori forms of the understanding. How then can they apply to sensible appearances? In the case of
an empirical concept such as 'plate' there is no difficulty; the roundness of the object fits with the concept 'circle' whether this
concept be sensible or a pure geometric one. But in the case of the categories Kant says there has to be some third 'thing', which
he calls a 'schema', to link them to appearances. He supposes the various schemata to be produced by relating the categories to
time through the activity of the imagination. As time is both a priori and the form of inner sensibility it is suitable as the means by
which schemata can mediate between the categories and the manifold. To show the ways in which the categories are applied by
the understanding Kant now [B 188 ff.] distinguishes four sets of principles corresponding again to Aristotle's four kinds of
statements. The first two, which Kant says are 'constitutive', relate to appearances and justify the application of mathematics to
experience. He calls them Axioms of Intuition [B 202 ff.] (corresponding to the schematized categories of quantity) and the
Anticipations of Perception [B 207 ff.] (quality). They enable us respectively to predict that an intuition will be of a definite size
(extension) and that it can admit of being of a particular degree or intensity (which can vary). For example, something may be
seen or heard with varying degrees of faintness. The second two are 'regulative'. They are 'dynamical' instead of being
mathematical and are concerned with the actual existence of appearances and how they relate to each other. In the Analogies of
Experience (relation) Kant tries to show firstly [A 182-9, B 224-32] that something permanent underlies changes of appearances,
and which represents time as the permanent form of intuition. This a priori category is substance. There can be no change in the
quantity of substance; all changes are but transformations of substance. Ordinary objects are therefore not substances. He does
however, sometimes talk of a plurality of substances [for example, B 462]. These might be understood as finite 'units' of substance
in general the total quantity of this 'one' substance being fixed: but both the nature of these substances (are they simples?) and
the relation to them of ordinary objects remains obscure [d]. [See further sec. 5 below (the Antinomies).] He then, in the second
analogy [A 189-211, B 232-56], distinguishes between a (subjective) coexistence of appearances and an (objective) succession.
We may perceive aspects of a house in any order, but our perceptions of a moving boat are determined by its direction, say from
upstream to down. Kant's point seems to be that if we can identify an objective succession then we have a basis for the a priori
concept of causality. This provides unity of consciousness and gives to experience the characteristics of objectivity. The principle
of the causal relation (or the principle of sufficient reason) in the sequence of appearances, Kant says [ B 246, 247], is valid of all
objects of experience in so far as it is itself the ground of the possibility of such experience. He is saying implicitly that the
proposition 'All events must have a cause', and hence the principle of sufficient reason, is necessary but not analytic, and is
unprovable empirically or through pure reason [B 811-12]. The third analogy also deals with causality [A211-15, B257-62]. But
here Kant is concerned with the reciprocal interactions of substances with each other [e] and not just with the causation involved
in a temporal sequence between, say, substance A and substance B. This is because he regards causal intreraction as a requirement
for substances to exist in space. Reciprocity is guaranteed by the application of the category of community: "In our mind, all
appearances must stand in community of apperception" [B261]. The other principles in this second set are called the Postulates of
Empirical Thought [B 265 ff.]. They may be regarded as constituting a summary of the general conditions necessary (a) for things
to exist within our experience; (b) for them to be counted as real and as knowable, for example, through science; and (c) for us to
be able to argue from our perceptions to the existence of unperceived things, that is, in accordance with the analogies and other
empirical or scientific rules.
Kant makes it clear that we do therefore have direct experience of the external world. His argument is roughly this. We are
conscious that we exist in time; there must be something permanent underlying the changes of our perceptions in time; it cannot
be in us because we need the idea of something permanent to 'fix' our own existence in time; so there must be external objects to
provide the basis for this permanence. In other words, we need the actual existence of an external world (albeit known only as
phenomenon) to help us determine our own inner states [f].

METAPHYSICS
[4] In showing how synthetic a priori knowledge is possible in mathematics and science Kant is at the same time setting a limit as
to what can be known. His attitude towards 'traditional' metaphysics is thus broadly negative. 'The 'dogmatic' idealism of
Berkeley, he says ['Refutation of Idealism', B 274-5], denies the existence of space and objects as existing externally and
independently of a perceiver; while according to the 'problematic' idealism of Descartes we can be acquainted only with our
immediate experiences and can therefore never be certain that things exist outside us, because inference is unreliable. So Kant
rejects both forms of 'idealism' in favour of his own theory. Firstly, he says that we do have knowledge of external objects as
phenomena (because he believes has shown that the experienced world of nature conforms to the a priori forms of intuition and
understanding): but, secondly, he denies that we can have any knowledge of the intelligible realm of noumena. Kant's
Transcendental Idealism is therefore to be regarded as 'legitimate' metaphysics [see Analytic of Principles, ch. III, A 235-60, B
294-315] [a].
In the Second Division (the Transcendental Dialectic) of the Transcendental Logic Kant develops his attack on the old (or
'transcendent') metaphysics. He also tries to discover the source of its errors. His main argument [B355-66] follows a distinction
he makes between two uses of the reason. In logical arguments the job of reason is only to unify or bring together an ever-
widening range of judgements as we move from premisses to a conclusion which can then act as a new premiss for a further
argument. But pure reason may try to go beyond what is given in experience, and to search for what Kant calls the 'unconditioned'
[B 365, 7]. This involves an examination of 'transcendental ideas', 'idea' in this context being "a necessary concept of reason to
which no corresponding object can be given in sense-experience" [B 384]. He says there are three kinds of unconditioned unity,
corresponding to the three categories of relation (substance, cause and reciprocity). Reason's attempt to transcend the limits of
experience can be seen in each of the three branches of traditional metaphysics: psychology, cosmology and theology. These deal
respectively with the 'Ideas of Reason' of a substantial soul, the world as a totality, and God. Kant goes on to say that when pure
reason fails to confine itself to the a priori conditions of experience and, during its unifying activity, tries to pass to the
unconditioned it produces fallacies and contradictions. He hopes that by identifying these he will be able to show why
transcendent metaphysics is mistaken. [See Transcendental Dialectic, Bk I, section 3.]
[5] Kant calls the fallacies associated with the first Idea of Reason Paralogisms [T.Dial., Bk II, ch. I]. Some previous philosophers
had claimed that the soul is a substance, is simple, is a person, and that the existence of external things is doubtful. Kant answers
these assertions as follows. (1) The soul is a substance only in idea, because we cannot argue from a concept to an actual existing
unitary thinking substance. (2) It cannot be simple, because this notion can apply only to an object that can be experienced. (3)
The idea of personal identity is itself just a 'representation' and may be no more permanent than the thoughts it is supposed to hold
together. (4) He repeats the criticisms he made earlier about idealism [B 375]. So far from the 'I think' being experienced, the self,
as the Transcendental Unity of Apperception, is a presupposition of all possible experience and cannot be known in itself [a]. He
goes on [A 381ff.] to consider a number of issues which arise in 'pure psychology' in the light of the paralogisms, and in particular
the mind (or soul)-body problem. The 'doctrine of the soul' relates to the physiology of the (temporal) inner sense [a], that of the
body to the object of the outer senses. And provided we consider inner and outer appearances together as mere representations in
experience then there can be nothing strange in the 'association' of the two kinds of senses. The problem arises, according to Kant,
when we think of outer appearances as "things existing by themselves outside us, with the same quality as that which they exist in
us" and then try to relate them to our thinking subject [A 386]. And it is to deal with this that traditional solutions have been
proposed, such as physical influence, predetermined harmony, and supernatural intervention none of which is successful [A
390-3]. In fact in the last analysis the question how outer intuition (space which comprehends shape and motion) is possible in a
thinking subject is unanswerable. All we can do is to ascribe outer appearances to the transcendental object and avoid treating the
appearances as objects in themselves. Similar considerations apply to such matters as the existence of the thinking subject after
death [b]. He concludes:

Thus all controversy in regard to the nature of the thinking being and its connection with the corporeal world is merely a result of
filling the gap where knowledge is wholly lacking to us with paralogisms of reason, treating our thoughts as things and
hypostatising them. [A 395]
The arguments for the second and third Ideas of Reason are called Antinomies [T.Dial., Bk II, ch. II]. Each consists of a thesis and
an antithesis which contradict each other, though Kant says both can be proved. (The theses are supposed to be held by 'dogmatic
rationalists', the antitheses by 'empiricists'.) The first antinomy is concerned with the question whether the world has or has not a
beginning in time and limits in space. The second addresses the question whether or not the world is composed of simples (or
composites of simples) [see sec. 3]. In the third antinomy Kant presents 'proofs' of the thesis that there are both natural and free
causes and of the antithesis that there is natural causation but no freedom. He suggests that all these contradictions can be avoided
if we relate the theses to both phenomena and noumena but the antitheses to only the phenomenal world. In other words we
should accept his Transcendental Idealism and not try to push Reason beyond the limits of experience (transcendental realism) [B
511]. We shall then find that in the case of the first two (the 'mathematical' antinomies) the theses and the antitheses are all false
being based on the assumption that the world exists as a (finite or infinite) whole. In fact it is neither, nor is it divisible finitely
or infinitely. As for the other two ('dynamical' antinomies), the theses and antitheses are both true but differentially. Things
belonging to the phenomenal world are causally determined: but in the noumenal world there are free causes [c][c]. Similarly in
the case of the Theological Idea [fourth antinomy]: the thesis is true when applied to both worlds, while the antithesis is true only
of the phenomena. Kant concentrates his attack on three traditional 'proofs' for God's existence: the ontological, the cosmological,
and the teleological arguments [ch. III, secs 4-6]. He tries to show that the ontological argument is the main one, in that the other
two presuppose its validity. The ontological argument is fallacious, he says, because it assumes that existence is a predicate,
whereas the 'is' in statements is merely a copula linking the predicate to its subject (as in 'God is omnipotent') [d]. By this he
means that we do not add anything new to the concept of God by saying that He exists; existence cannot therefore be a perfection,
and God may as well not exist. Also existential judgements are synthetic. It does not follow logically from a definition of God as a
necessary being that he actually exists necessarily. Kant goes on to say in the Appendix to the Transcendental Dialectic that
although we cannot have knowledge of God (as an idea of the unconditioned it is 'regulative' not 'constitutive'), together with the
Ideas of the soul and of freedom we need God for our morality and religion. That is why he had said in the Preface [B xxx], "I
have therefore found it necessary to deny knowledge, in order to make room for faith" [e].

ETHICS DEONTOLOGY
Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785): the initial presentation of Kant's ethics.
Critique of Practical Reason (1788): Part I, Book I (Analytic) consists a more formal statement of the Groundwork thesis; Book II
(Dialectic) offers a justification of morality.
[Sources: The edition of the Groundwork used is that of Paton (The Moral Law); and the edition of the Critique of Practical
Reason is Beck's. Number references in both cases are to the pages of the standard Royal Prussian Academy edition of his works.]
[6] Although, according to Kant, we can have no knowledge of the external world, he argues that the moral law [see Groundwork
389, Critique of Practical Reason, 32] has its origin in the freely acting rational noumenal self and that it is willed onto the
phenomenal world by the practical reason. (He rejects all 'material principles' which purport to be determining grounds, for
example, physical and moral feeling, perfection, the will of God [a]; the first two, he says, are obviously unfit; the latter two can
be motives only by reason of the happiness expected of them) [C.Pract.R., 40-41; Cf. Gr. 388-390]. To understand what this
means we must look at the distinction he makes between two kinds of imperatives (that is, commands) a hypothetical
imperative (which is analytic) and a categorical one (which is synthetic) [Gr 37-44] [b]. Consider the reasons we may have for
doing what is supposed to be morally 'right', say telling the truth. We may wish to avoid punishment (which for Kant is retributive
as required by 'the moral order' [see Philosophy of Law] ) [c][c]; we may want to maximize our happiness or that of other
people; or maybe we feel that it would be against our moral 'sense' or conscience to tell lies. Now Kant says that if we behave on
the basis of such considerations, our actions cannot be said strictly to have any moral worth. This is because we are acting in
accordance with a hypothetical imperative, which relates to subjective (empirical) principles such as "education, civil constitution,
physical and moral feeling" or to objective (rational) principles such as "perfection and the will of God". Our actions, he says, can
have moral worth only if they are in accordance with the categorical imperative, that is, if they are done for the sake of duty [Gr.
9-11]. By this he means that we should act out of reverence (Achtung) for the (moral) law without any consideration of the
possible consequences of our actions and regardless of the impulses and inclinations we have so far as we belong to the
phenomenal world. This notion of doing something for the sake of duty is central to Kant's ethics; it is not sufficient that ones
actions should merely be in accordance with it. A shopkeeper, for example, may be honest and not overcharge his customers. But
he could also be acting out of self-interest so that his business might prosper. Even if he were motivated by love that would not
in itself guarantee the moral worth of his action. Only reverence for the moral law can provide this. This underpins Kant's notion
of a good will as the only thing "which can be taken as good without qualification" [Gr. 1-4, 8ff.] [d]. But he distinguishes
between the imperfect (human) will and the perfectly good 'holy' will (of God). The former is 'necessitated' to act in conformity
with the law the 'I ought'. For the divine will' however, there are no imperatives [Gr. 39].
How can we know that a particular course of action accords with the categorical imperative and is thus performed for the sake of
duty? To answer this Kant introduces what he calls a maxim [Gr. 51-2, C.Pract.R., 27-8]. This is a subjective principle on the
basis of which we decide to act. If the maxim we adopt expresses the idea of obeying a universal law, it is said to be a formal
maxim and becomes an objective principle, that is, the principle on which a rational being ought and would act if he had full
control over his desires. (Principles which relate to ends or consequences are said to be empirical maxims.) This leads to Kant's
first formulation of the categorical imperative: "Act only on that maxim through which you can at the same time will to become a
universal law" [Gr. 52] [e]. He gives four examples of duties which, he claims, accord with this universal law [Gr. 53-7]. Two of
them, concerning suicide and the keeping of promises, allow of no exceptions. He calls these perfect duties. If we allowed that
everybody might break their promises or might kill themselves then there clearly there would be peculiar consequences: the
concept of keeping a promise race would lose its 'purchase', while in the case of suicide the human race would become extinct. So
we cannot in practice universalize such maxims. The second two examples, which relate to the cultivation of ones talents and the
practice of benevolence, are, however, imperfect, in the sense that although we may often give in to our inclinations we do not
will that the maxim on which we act should be universalized; but we recognise that its opposite should remain universal. He goes
on to give four more formulations of the categorical imperative. (While it is the third formulation which receives the most
emphasis in the second Critique, Kant seems to regard the first formulation as the most important in the Groundwork.) (2) We
must act as if our maxim were to become a universal law of nature [Gr. 52, C.PractR., 31]; and (3) in such a way that our will can
regard itself as producing universal law through that maxim [Gr. 70-1, 76]. Also (4) in our actions we must never treat people
including ourselves, just as means but also as rational beings and hence as ends in themselves [Gr. 66-7]. Lastly (5), we must act
as if we were law-giving members of a universal kingdom of ends [Gr. 74-6]. As law-givers and law-obeyers individuals
implicitly accept the general will of the people. For Kant this 'contract', however, is a regulative ideal and not historically
grounded. [See Fundamental Principles of Law.] He argues that each member of society transfers his moral freedom to the
'republic' but receives it back in the form of civil liberties. Nevertheless it is to be regarded as binding; and there can be no right to
rebel against authority as the 'general will' even in imperfect states [f].
[7] When we act in accordance with the categorical imperative we are acting autonomously, in contrast to the heteronomy of
actions guided by the hypothetical imperative [Gr. 87-9, C.Pract.R., 33ff.]. Now the principle of autonomy (never to choose unless
the maxims you will are present in universal law) is, Kant says, a synthetic statement, so we cannot prove it by analysing
concepts. So he argues that to show how the categorical imperative is possible we need a critique of practical reason. This brings
him back [Gr. III, 97ff., 113ff; C.Pract.R., Analytic ch. 3, 90ff.] to the antinomy examined in the first Critique between freedom
and necessity. Non-rational beings act in accordance with natural necessity, but the wills of rational beings are free. This does not
mean that free action is 'lawless'; for the free will does not act causally. But, unlike the causes at work in the natural or
phenomenal world, the will's 'causation' is self-imposed and involves accepting the categorical imperative. The difficulty with
this, Kant says, is that it leads to a kind of circularity in our reasoning. Freedom and self-legislation are 'reciprocal' concepts, that
is, they are dependent on each other; so neither can serve as an explanation for the other. To get round this he suggests that in
using the two concepts we are adopting different standpoints. As free agents we think of ourselves as autonomous members of the
noumenal or intelligible world and as subject to the laws of reason (which prescribes ought 'ought' implies 'can', we might say).
But our actions have also to be seen as factual events in the phenomenal world which are subject to the laws of natural science.
Natural necessity is a concept of the understanding: whereas freedom is an Idea of Reason [a]. There is no contradiction. At this
point in the Groundwork Kant says that he is now at the limit of moral enquiry but that it is important to determine what the limit
is. How is that a "bare principle" can supply a motive for acting rightly? How can pure reason be practical? He has more to say
about this motive in the Critique where he deals with the object of practical reason and what is presupposed if it is to be achieved.
[8] Kant's view is that what is sought in moral action is the highest good (summum bonum) [Gr. 29, C.Pract.R., Dialectic, ch. 2].
What is this highest good? The Stoics had thought it was virtue and that we are aware that we are virtuous. The Epicureans, on the
other hand, had identified the highest good with happiness, virtue being that which we need to become happy. Kant says that the
highest good is a synthesis of both. However the concept is known a priori and not derivable from experience; the deduction must
be transcendental [C.Pract.R.,. 111-113] [a]. The good is not like the concept of 'well-being', which is defined in terms of our
feeling of happiness; and so it clearly presupposes the moral law. Further, the connection between virtue and happiness is
synthetic, yet the highest good is known a priori and is necessary practically. So how is it possible? How is this "antinomy of
practical reason" [ch. 2, I] to be resolved? [C.Pract.R., ch. 2, II.] The desire for happiness cannot be a motive for a maxim of
virtue (as he has already shown). And a maxim of virtue cannot be an efficient cause of happiness, because causality relates to
natural laws and not to the will. But, argues Kant, the problem arises because we are confining ourselves to the phenomenal
world. If we think of ourselves as belonging also to the noumenal realm, then we can see the moral law as a "pure determining
ground of our causality", and that there is a necessary connection between our intentions as (noumenal) cause and our happiness
as effect in the sensible world provided there is mediation by "an Intelligible Author of Nature" to guarantee our happiness in
proportion to morality. (This is in effect Kant's ethical 'proof' for the existence of God as a "postulate of pure practical reason"
[ch. V].) He also argues [chs IV and VI] that immortality is necessary to guarantee that the will is completely 'fit' to the moral law
[b]. By this he means that we must think of our moral efforts as having significance in that we can imagine that after death we
might belong to a universal kingdom of rational beings (ends in themselves) ruled by God. Thus the categorical imperative (the
fifth formulation is particularly relevant here) requires the three Ideas of Reason Freedom, Immortality, and God.

AESTHETICS AND PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE

The Critique of Judgement (1790)
AESTHETICS
[9] In the second Critique Kant believed that had reconciled freedom and necessity by means of the practical reason. But there
remains a gulf between the intelligible and natural worlds when considered from the standpoint of the theoretical reason. One of
his main aims in the third Critique is to show how they can be brought together by supposing that they can both be grounded in
the concept of judgement. Judgement, he says, mediates between understanding and reason; and feeling mediates between
knowing and desiring. So if knowledge is a function of the understanding, and desiring is a manifestation of the (practical) reason,
perhaps judgement may be assumed to have its own a a priori principles which can legislate for feeling. He explores this further in
the Introduction to the third Critique.
He defines 'judgement' as "the faculty of thinking the particular under the universal" [Intro. IV]. Now, when we make a judgement
(such as 'All changes in bodies must have a cause') the universal is 'given' as an a priori category. In this case the judgement is
said to be 'determinant'. But in physics, for example, we may have to look for a universal, that is a general and empirical law,
under which particulars can be subsumed. Here judgement is 'reflective'. The scientist wants to go further and try to relate all his
laws to a still more general unifying principle. Kant says that this is not given by the understanding and must lie beyond
experience. He calls it the principle of 'finality' or 'purposiveness': Nature is represented as if it made up an ordered and purposive
whole [a]. The principle of the formal finality of Nature [V] is a transcendental principle. It is a concept neither of Nature nor or
freedom, but is a maxim of judgement. [VI-VII.] Whenever we think of Nature in this way we experience a feeling of
'disinterested' pleasure. If this feeling is linked immediately with a 'representation' of an object, the object is said to be final and
the representation aesthetic [b]. Kant examines this in Part I of the Critique of Judgement. Finality is here subjective (formal).
Objective (real) finality, on the other hand, has nothing to do with feelings of pleasure in things: rather, through the understanding
and reason, things are represented in their universals as if they were fulfilling a purpose in Nature. In this case the representation
is said to be logical [VIII]. This is investigated in Part II of the Critique. Kant goes on to argue that while the judgement cannot
prescribe laws in the way that the understanding and practical reason do, it does have an a priori principle for 'estimating' Nature;
and this enables us by means of the aesthetic representation to see Nature as a phenomenal manifestation of the underlying or
supersensible noumenal realm, and by the logical representation to think of ends as being actualized in Nature according to its
laws. Nature is seen to be in agreement with our powers of cognition. In this way judgement can effect the transition between the
two worlds, and can allow us to grasp the unity of reason. [See Intro. III and IX.]

1. Critique of Aesthetic Judgement

Kant distinguishes between three kinds of aesthetic judgements: judgements of the 'agreeable' relating to the pleasantness of an
object; judgements of taste, which refer to the beauty of objects; and judgements of the sublime. In the 'Analytic' [sections 1-54]
he identifies four 'moments' or characteristics which apply to both judgements of taste and judgements of the sublime. Aesthetic
judgements are (1) disinterested in their quality; (2) universal in quantity; (3) subjectively final in relation; and (4) necessary in
modality. His general thesis in relation to these characteristics may be summarized as follows.
When we look at an object or scene which we call beautiful or sublime we are not concerned whether the object actually exists.
We experience a feeling of delight; we take pleasure in the object. But this feeling of pleasure cannot be known (in the way that
space and sensations can). The delight we experience is not based on any private inclination or interest. We feel ourselves to be
completely free in respect to this liking we have for the object; and we suppose other people to respond in a similar way. As he
says, an object is called beautiful when its form (as opposed to the matter of its representation, as sensation) is,
without regard to any concept to be obtained from it, estimated as the ground of a pleasure in the representation of such an Object
[as a result of which] this pleasure is also to be judged to be combined necessarily with the representation of it, and so not merely
for the Subject apprehending this form, but for all in general who pass this judgement. And the faculty of judging by means of
such a pleasure (and so also with universal validity) is called taste. [C.J., Introduction, 190].
(Hegel noted [History of Philosophy, iii] that this was "the first rational word concerning beauty".) We therefore attribute
universal validity to our judgements of taste. But as empirical judgements they are not objectively necessary. According to Kant,
the explanation of their subjective universality lies in the harmonious free play of imagination and understanding no
determinate concept being invoked [c]. While the delight we have is seen to be necessarily linked with the representation of the
object, this necessity is neither theoretical (as in the first Critique) nor practical (second Critique). Kant calls the necessity
'exemplary' [237], by which he means that it is the necessity of the assent of all to a judgement which is regarded as exemplifying
a universal rule although we cannot actually formulate the rule or relate it to specific instances. As to the 'finality' of judgements
of taste, Kant is saying that in looking at the object we get the feeling that it in some fulfils some end or purpose though we
cannot conceptualize this. That is why he writes that 'Beauty is the form of finality in an object, so far as perceived in it apart from
the representation of an end" [236]; and this 'form of finality' is the sole foundation of the judgement of taste [d].
In Book II Kant embarks on an Analytic of the Sublime. Sublimity has much in common with beauty, but there are important
differences [23ff.]. Beauty is external and grounded in the 'form' of the object, whereas sublimity involves 'formlessness' and lack
of limits. Beauty is a concept of the understanding: sublimity is associated with the pure reason. The most important difference is
that while beauty conveys a purposiveness in its form, sublimity is entirely separate from the idea of a finality in Nature [e] and
involves only a kind of 'stretching' of and indeed passing beyond the imagination. (Kant talks of the imagination as being
"outraged".) So strictly speaking we should say that sublimity belongs not to natural objects (for example, a stormy ocean) but to
the feelings (such as awe) they arouse in us. Kant in fact distinguishes between the mathematically sublime [25-27] and the
dynamically sublime [28-29]. The former, which involves the knowing faculty and corresponds to the first two 'moments', is "that
which is absolutely great", in comparison with which everything else is small, for example, the Pyramids or the Milky Way. The
pleasure we experience includes a feeling of respect when we judge that the inadequacy of our imagination is in accord with
reason. The dynamically sublime, relating to the second two 'moments', engages our faculty of desire. The violence of nature
frightens us, but it also enables us to recognise our independence of and superiority to Nature.
[The 'Deduction': 30ff.] As has been mentioned, judgements of taste conform to "law without a law", are purposive though no
purpose can be known, and arise from a harmony between imagination and understanding, which is subjective. They cannot be
determined by either empirical or a priori logical laws. So how are they possible? The pleasure or displeasure they depend on,
Kant says, arises from cognitive powers which everybody is supposed to possess; and that this supposition is based on the
communicability of the relevant representations [39]. lt is an "aesthetic common sense" [40]. (As for judgements of the sublime,
Kant does not think that they need to be justified because here the subjective purposiveness belongs to the use to which objects
are put and not to their form. He has said earlier that the necessity that the judgements of other people should coincide with ours is
based on the fact that such judgements are a product of culture and are grounded in a natural capacity for moral feeling.) Later in
the Deduction Kant discusses artefacts, as contrasted with natural objects. A work of art is 'purposive' only within itself, though it
can help to develop our mental powers and thereby help communication in society. It is a product of genius [46ff.], that is, "the
talent or innate mental aptitude, through which nature gives the rule to art". Genius has its own 'spirit': the faculty of presenting
aesthetic Ideas (the counterpart of Ideas of Reason). It is opposed to imitation and itself supplies the 'material' for a work of art
(though training is required for its 'form'). And Kant adds that understanding, imagination, and taste are also all required;
understanding provides the artist with his goal, imagination (in addition to its normal role as synthesizer of intuitions) 'remodels'
Nature and taste as a judgement 'disciplines' or 'corrects' genius.
As in the other Critiques, the Analytic is followed by a Dialectic [55-60]. Kant first claims to have solved an antinomy that the
judgement of taste both is and is not based on concepts. There is no inconsistency, he says, if we say the judgement is not
grounded in (determinate) concepts (the thesis); and that it is based on an (indeterminate) concept, namely the supersensible
substrate of phenomena. He goes on to say that because this same noumenal substrate is also the principle underlying freedom and
the choice of moral ends a connection can be made between the aesthetic judgement and ethics [f]. The beautiful and the moral,
despite their differences, are clearly similar in that (1) they both please immediately; (2) they are not bound up with any interest
prior to judgement; (3) they involve harmony respectively between the imagination and the understanding, and between the
will with itself according to the law of practical reason; (4) the subjective principle in aesthetic judgement and the objective
principle of morality both claim universality. Beauty is the symbol of the morally good, and taste is thus a faculty for judging
sensible representations of moral ideas by means of an analogy [g].
PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE
2. Critique of Teleological Judgement
[10] In the 'Analytic' [62-68] Kant distinguishes between (a) formal and material and (b) subjective and objective finality [62].
Formal (or intellectual) finality deals with possibility, not the existing things which are the concern of material teleological
judgements. In mathematics, for example, the formal judgement might be about the suitability of a circle for the construction of a
particular kind of triangle. The finality is objective because it does not involve the feelings of the person making the judgement.
Material judgements are subjective if they relate to human concerns (as we saw in the case of aesthetic finality). But if they refer
to purpose in nature they are said to be objective. He makes a further distinction between relative and intrinsic or absolute finality
[63]. Suppose we say the existence of reindeer in Lapland benefits the inhabitants. By attributing purposiveness to the presence of
these animals we seem to be explaining their existence. But Kant says it is an empirical and hypothetical matter that there should
be men living in such a region. We cannot see any causal link between the two factors. Intrinsic final judgements, however, state
that a thing is an end in itself: "a thing exists as an end of Nature if it is, though in two senses, both cause and effect of itself' [64].
Thus a tree (i) generates another tree, (ii) produces itself as an individual (through growth), (iii) as a whole, is reciprocally
dependent on its parts, for example, its leaves. In such natural things each part not only exists through the agency of their other
parts but also for the sake of both those other parts and the whole, that is, as an instrument or organ. Also, in contrast to, say, a
watch the parts must be organisms reciprocally producing each other; the product is both organized and self-organized, that is has
formative power [65]. This principle for judging internal purposiveness, although derived from experience, must be grounded in
an a priori principle because it predicates the universality and necessity of the finality attributed to Nature, which is a regulative
and not a constitutive Idea [66ff.] [a]. Kant goes on to stress that an advance has been made in finding in Nature a capacity for
producing objects which we can think of in terms of final causes even where it is not necessary to move beyond mechanical
causation; for objects in the latter case may still be supposed to form part of a system of ends.
Now while it would seem that the concept of purposiveness is required for self-organizing beings, mechanical causality being
inadequate, the Idea of the finality of Nature is applicable to the whole of Nature in that it points beyond sense-experience to the
supersensible substrate [b]. Moreover, the fact that all natural objects belong to the phenomenal realm gives rise to an antinomy
between the two regulative principles or maxims of judgement: that some products of material nature must be judged as possible
on the basis of mechanical laws, whereas others cannot and require final causes. If these maxims could be converted into
constitutive principles of the possibility of objects we should have a contradiction between (thesis) "All production of material
things is possible on mere mechanical laws", and (antithesis) "Some production of such things is not possible on mere mechanical
laws" [70]. In the Dialectic [69-78] Kant argues that neither assertion can be proved a priori. Furthermore, the judgement cannot
give us these constitutive principles. The contradiction is therefore avoided. In science we appeal to mechanical causality, but
when this proves inadequate or has reached its explanatory limits we have to introduce the concept of final causality [c]
Final causality leads on to theology; and this forms the greater part of the content of the remaining sections of the Dialectic. After
a historical digression to examine the inadequacies of various systems, including theism, which purport to deal with the finality of
nature, Kant says [73] that he nevertheless sees theism as the best in so far as it attributes purposiveness in Nature to a supreme
intelligent being, God, and thus provides us with a seemingly acceptable world-view in which final and mechanical causality
might be reconciled in the supersensible substrate [d]. (In this way he would be able to bridge the gap between the first two
Critiques.) But teleology cannot prove the existence of such a being; the Idea of purpose in Nature is regulative and not
constitutive and can act only as a guide for reflective judgement. In so far as its objects are physical generations and their causes,
teleology does not form a branch of theology. Neither does it form part of natural science, for this requires determinant and not
just reflective principles [Appendix, 79ff]. But it is a science in that it is a critique (of judgement); and to the extent it contains a
priori principles and must therefore specify the method by which Nature must be judged according to final causes. It thus exerts
an influence (although negative) upon the procedure to be adopted in natural science and also affects the metaphysical bearing
this science may have on theology. The 'physico-theological' proof for the existence of God, being based on empirical data, can
provide no more than "artificial understanding" for miscellaneous ends; it cannot give wisdom for a final end which is outside
Nature [85ff.] [e]. An 'ethico-theology', however, involves inference from a moral end which can be known a priori; and Nature
considered as a moral Kingdom of Ends demands the existence of an Original Being, omniscient of the summum bonum,
omnipotent, all-good, just, and eternal, who has created the universe for a moral purpose [see the second Critique]. The moral
proof, however, is not objectively valid [87ff.]. God's existence as "a not-sensible something containing the ultimate ground of the
world of sense" [90] is a matter of practical faith to which one commits oneself freely [91]; and although He can be understood
through symbols and analogy we can have no theoretical knowledge of Him [f].

RELIGION
[11] [see also sec. 10] [See Religion Within the Bounds of Mere Reason.] It is clear from his three Critiques that Kant rejected
traditional dogmatic religion and metaphysical 'proofs' for God's existence. Instead he advocates a 'pure religion of morality'
his 'ethico-theology, with its presuppositions of God and immortality (though as regulative Ideas of Reason they are not proper
objects of knowledge). Kant believes that the moral life is best preserved in Christianity, but he does not regard its traditions and
ceremonies as important and he radically reinterprets that religion's doctrines. We may say that in his deism Christianity is
essentially demythologized. It is through our feeling for nature and our conscience that we may have access to God [a]; and these
are the sources of the faith (to make room for which he had denied knowledge) [see end of sec. 5 above]. As he says [Critique of
Practical Reason, 161-2]:
Two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe, the oftener and more steadily we reflect on them: the
starry heavens above me and the moral law within me. I do not merely conjecture them and seek them as though obscured in
darkness or in the transcendent region beyond my horizon: I see them before me, and I associate them directly with the
consciousness of my own existence.

CRITICAL SUMMARY
Kant's views on epistemology and metaphysics turn essentially on his approach to the analytic-synthetic distinction and on the
possibility of synthetic a priori judgements. If he is correct, then we can have knowledge of the external world as phenomenon
because we in some sense contribute to our experience of it: but he will not allow that we can pass beyond the limits of that
experience to have any kind of knowledge of things in themselves, though he needs the idea of a noumenal world for his ethics
and philosophy of Nature. There are many difficulties with his thesis.
(1) It is often not easy to decide whether a given statement is or is not analytic. Why should extension, but not heaviness, be
supposed to belong to the concept of body'? What he says about the 'necessity' of synthetic a priori statements also needs to be
questioned. He appeals to the a priori status of space and time and the alleged grounding in them of the truths of geometry and
arithmetic respectively. But most philosophers today say that mathematical statements are analytic, and that the possibility of
alternative (non-Euclidean) geometries may also undermine Kant's position. In answer to this it might be said that he is concerned
only with our actual perceptions.

(2) Kant's account of the categories has been criticized. He is not always clear and consistent in distinguishing between pure
concepts and empirical concepts. His grounding of the categories in the Aristotelian forms of judgement is perhaps artificial
especially when seen from the wider vantage point of modern symbolic logic. His arguments relating to the analogies may also be
seen as suspect. It is not clear whether the permanence he refers to is absolute or relative. Is it time itself that is supposed not to
change, or time as a form of intuition? And he seems not to have distinguished satisfactorily between logical or causal necessity
and coincidence.

(3) Perhaps most controversial is Kant's distinction between phenomena and noumena. Sometimes he talks of noumena as non-
spatial things in themselves, which we can know nothing about; the world therefore consists of phenomena and noumena [A 30,
371 ]. (This interpretation would appear to be the one that Husserl held). Elsewhere it seems that Kant does not regard them as
objects at all. Rather the concept is introduced as a limit to show the impossibility of our going beyond experience; the world
consists only of phenomena [A 255, 257]. It is difficult to decide between these two positions: but it is reasonable to suppose that
tended towards the weaker ('limit') view but found it difficult to shake himself free from the more Berkeleyan view of objects as
representations which cannot exist independently of our perceptions. It should also be noted that Kant's interpretations of
Berkeley and Descartes are questionable.

(4) Kant's arguments against the paralogisms make up an important criticism of Descartes' cogito thesis. The validity of the
antinomies, however, is itself doubtful. And it has been suggested (a) that recent developments in physics may well damage his
account of the third antinomy, given his commitment to Newtonian science; and (b) that the ambiguity of his account of the
noumenal world might cause difficulties for the view that we can think of ourselves as free beings. His objections to traditional
'proofs' of the existence of God, on the other hand, are regarded by many philosophers as being sound. Kant's own convictions
concerning God relate, more controversially, to what he has to say about ethics, into which he carries over his two-world
distinction. In general it may be said that in his epistemology and metaphysics he both brings together and passes beyond the
central tenets of rationalism and empiricism.

(5) According to Kant, reason in its theoretical aspect cannot pass beyond the limits of experience. But in his ethics he argues that
the practical reason, or rational will, enables us to discover and act in accordance with the moral law, which is grounded in the
noumenal realm. But the central and most original features of Kant's moral philosophy his emphasis on action performed for
the sake of duty, and the categorical imperative as a criterion of moral worth are at the same time the elements in his thought
most open to objections. Firstly, it might be said that his 'formalist' approach does not seem to fit in with our everyday 'intuitions'
about what is right or good. Kant would of course reply, so much the worse for our ordinary views. A more telling objection,
however, may be made against the categorical imperative, especially in its main formulation. Can it always be shown that the
maxim on which we act is universalizable? Is the test that there should be an absence of contradiction, or less rigorously that the
universalization simply does not 'work' or leads to absurd or sterile consequences, in which case the test might even seem to be
utilitarian? There is also a problem when maxims are qualified in some way. Kant says killing is wrong and yet approves of
capital punishment. If still further 'special' cases were allowed, would not the maxims become so particular that universalizability
would be superfluous? There is a third difficulty in relation to the final formulation of the imperative. While emphasizing duty
Kant yet thinks in terms of a Kingdom of Ends in which we might ultimately enjoy supreme happiness. It is arguable that this end
and the concept of duty might not be as sharply separated as he would wish. Can we entirely disregard such happiness for
others as well as ourselves as a motivating factor?
(6) As for the third Critique, although it has tended to be overshadowed by the other two, what Kant has to say about art and
finality is important in this history of philosophy, as is also his account of the difference between beauty and sublimity. However,
it can be objected that his formalism in aesthetics, as in his ethics, does not work well in practice. Disagreement about the beauty
or excellence of, say, a painting should not occur if Kant were correct when he claims that one person's judgement should
coincide with everybody else's. This suggests that his transcendental deduction is invalid.

(7) The second part of the Critique is interesting for Kant's discussion of mechanical and teleological explanation. It is clearly
relevant to the distinction later to be made between the methods supposed to applicable in the natural sciences
(Naturwissenschaften) and those appropriate to the 'social' or 'human' sciences (Geisteswissenschaften). But it is an open question
whether Kant is justified when he claims to have reconciled, through the faculty of judgement, the phenomenal realm (to which
science applies) and the noumenal realm (as revealed in art and Nature, considered as an end in relation to God, and realized
through the practical reason).

FICHTE (1762 1814)

ETHICAL IDEALISM
Johann Fichte was the eldest child of a ribbon maker. He was born in Rammenau, Lusatia (Germany) and educated at the famous
Pforta School (through the generosity of a baron who had become impressed by his potential), and then at the Universities of
Jena, Wittenberg, and Leipzig, studying theology and philosophy. Financially insecure he became a private tutor in 1788 but in
1794 he secured a professorship at Jena as a result of the recommendations of Kant and Goethe. However, his unorthodox views
and teaching methods eventually led to his dismissal in 1799. He taught for a short time at Erlangen and Knigsberg, and then at
Berlin (where he was briefly Rector). He was active in the struggle against Napoleon, but he devoted most of the remainder of his
life to his writing. He died in Berlin of typhus.

METAPHYSICS
[1] [See The Doctrine of Knowledge.] Fichte's metaphysics is closely connected with his theory of knowledge, ethics, and
philosophy of religion. For convenience these several areas will be examined separately. His system arises out of a negative and a
positive reaction to Kant. Fichte rejected the idea of an unknowable 'thing-in-itself'; this, he said, leads to dogmatic materialism
and determinism. But he was aware of himself as a free, moral being, with an interest in the self rather than in 'things', and
understood this as the active, free, Absolute Ego, which is self-affirming intelligence-in-itself, creative thought, and the Absolute
moral principle in man. We cannot of course experience this transcendental or pure Ego; it is not an object of consciousness, or
indeed a substantial entity at all, but its positing and limiting of itself in the finite ego or individual self is a precondition for the
emergence of unified consciousness. It is thus the universal 'I' principle which is active within all consciousnesses. And Fichte
claims we have an 'intellectual intuition' of it within the consciousness, and that it is implicit in our actions. He identifies it with a
'doing' (Tun) or activity [a], but this is not an active 'thing' (ein Ttiges). He adopted this as his immediately basic proposition to
constitute the certain foundation of his 'doctrine (or theory) of knowledge' [see sec. 2].
Fichte was faced with two problems: how to derive 'objective' consciousness from the self-conscious intelligence-in-itself, and
how to account for the world of material objects. His answer to these is his 'phenomenology of consciousness'. He distinguishes
three principles or stages. By reflecting on its own consciousness self-determining reason 'deduces' real categories. (1) The pure
Ego posits itself. Its positing of itself in intuition constitutes its 'being'; and we refer to this under the category of reality. (2) Now
to posit itself as pure or Absolute Ego it must be opposed by a general objectivity: a 'Non-Ego' is 'opposited' to it. Here the
category of negation is applicable. It gives rise to, and is a precondition for what he says is the unlimited activity or striving, and
moral self-realization of the Absolute Ego. (3) The Ego and the Non-Ego must limit or restrain each other; for if they were
unlimited they would cancel each other out and there would be no consciousness at all. We thus reach the category of limitation or
finitude. The Ego posits a limited (finite, or divisible) empirical and individual ego in opposition to the limited Non-Ego. This
philosophical reconstructing is regarded by Fichte as a practical deduction, in so far as the Absolute Ego, in its positing or
determining of the Non-Ego, produces Nature as the ground of ideal actions (involving desire, free choice, and self-activity) [see
his System of Ethics]. However, if we think of the Absolute, pure Ego as positing itself and as being limited or determined by the
Non-Ego, the deduction is a theoretical one; and it is concerned with 'real' sequences of actions involving, for example, 'ideas'
(Vorstellungen) and sensations, but the Non-Ego remains in the realm of consciousness. Fichte stresses that the theoretical
deduction is subordinate to the practical [b][b] in that the spiritual Ego strives to realize itself (the 'end') in unlimited activity
using the Non-Ego as its 'means'. [See further in sec. 2.]

Fichte also considers formal logic as derivable from philosophy the fundamental 'science' [c]. [See Foundation of the Entire
Doctrine of Knowledge.] Although the laws of general logic in a sense determine how our 'deed-acts' or 'doings' are to be thought,
the basic propositions of philosophy are prior to their formalizations in logic. Fichte identifies a corresponding three stage
deduction. Firstly, the certainty of the identity 'A = A' exhibits the Ego's positing of itself as identical to itself through its pure
activity. (This is the 'absolutely unconditioned fundamental principle'.) Secondly, he derives the 'proposition of oppositing', ' A is
not A', (the conditioned fundamental principle 'with regard to content') which corresponds to the absolute oppositing of the
Non-Ego to the Ego. Lastly, he deduces the third fundamental principle (conditioned in its form): 'A (in part) = A, and A (in
part) = A', which grounds the oppositing of the finite or divisible Non-Ego to a finite Ego.

KNOWLEDGE
[2] In his Doctrine of Knowledge Fichte rejects 'dogmatism' [a], according to which consciousness is explained in terms of the
empirical realm and mechanical necessity. So in his theory of knowledge he attempts to reconcile our ordinary experience of
things in the world with his idealist metaphysics. It consists essentially in an examination of the process of theoretical deduction
and its explanation in terms of the practical deduction. There are three stages in the theoretical deduction. Firstly the Absolute Ego
produces the forms of intuition of space and time as a result of its "power of productive imagination". The Ego is both passive and
active. It is passive in its reception of sensation which give rise to 'subjective modifications' of itself representations
(Vorstellungen) and images (Bilder); and active in so far as it refers sensations to the Non-Ego. Secondly, the understanding
(Verstand), through the 'power of judgement' 'fixes' these representations as concepts and then as objects of thought for the
understanding. Lastly, through the 'power of absolute abstraction' (reason), the universal is abstracted from particular objects (the
Non-Ego), thereby enabling us to reflect on the pure Ego and its productive activity, and thus to expand our self-consciousness. At
each stage of this progressive movement from sensation, to space and time, and the categories the lower is apprehended and
articulated more fully and clearly by the reason [a], but Fichte says that a complete or pure intellectual intuition is never attained.
He then tries to show how the theoretical deduction itself has to be referred back to and underpinned by the practical deduction.
Implicit in the Absolute Ego as unlimited striving is a subconscious drive (Trieb), which both exists for the limited empirical Ego
as feeling (Gefhl) and constrains it because the Non-Ego is opposing it. This drive then becomes what he calls "an impulse
towards the object" and is experienced as force (Kraft) [b]. The impulse, initially experienced as a primitive level of reflection,
comes to manifest itself more clearly in distinct desires and acquires more 'satisfactions' through the striving a striving which
can be satisfied, albeit only partially, through moral action. So what Fichte appears to be saying is that the world of appearances,
that is, of 'ideas' (Vorstellungen), is qua Nature the manifestation of the objective spiritual reality (which is independent of finite
egos and identifiable with the Absolute or unlimited Ego). As deduced theoretically it is consciousness: deduced practically it is
passive, 'dead' Nature knowable only through the individual, empirical ego's moral striving for perfection. Knowledge for
Fichte is thus essentially practical [c][c]. It seems to follow also that, (1) given his account of the categories (which in Kant's
philosophy belong to the transcendental logic) as belonging to the 'self-oppositing' of the Absolute Ego rather than as
transcendentally 'subjective' forms of the individual understanding, and (2) his view that formal logic is grounded in the Doctrine
of Knowledge, the distinction between a priori and a posteriori knowledge 'breaks down' [d]. [Or, rather, perhaps we may say that
our experience of things derives from the individual self-consciousness but that both the natural world and individual
consciousness are the products of the Absolute Ego's self-positing. Our knowledge of this 'universal Ego' (allgemeinen Ich) is thus
at once a priori (with respect to ground) and a posteriori (with respect to content experienced in act). However, this interpretation
remains contentious.]

ETHICS/ PHILOSOPHY OF MAN

[3] [See The System of Ethics.] If Fichte's metaphysics and theory of knowledge are grounded in the practical realm, what is the
basis of his ethics itself? He sees man as a unity of conscious active being. But the fundamental impulse of striving is, as it
were, two-dimensional. On the one hand man is an object, governed by the laws of sense-intuition, determined by nature,
concerned with meeting his biological needs, in particular, self-preservation. On the other hand, as self-determining subject, or
pure spirit, man exhibits a drive to freedom and independence. Freedom, however, is possible in both realms. Man is formally free
in so far as he consciously reflects and chooses to follow his natural impulse. He is materially free if he acts for the sake of
freedom, so as to achieve the Ego's independence, or self-realization. Fichte argues that a synthesis is needed, and this can be
attained if the former renounces pleasure and the latter its 'purity', that is, its independence from natural objects. He also claims
that freedom is inseparable from, and indeed in a sense identical with law [a], in that we cannot think of ourselves as free without
at the same time thinking of ourselves as falling under a law, and vice versa. He sets out the central tenets of his ethics on the
basis of this account of freedom and law.
The objective world of Nature posited by the Absolute Ego is to be seen, not just as bringing about self-consciousness and as the
means for ensuring our self-preservation and material welfare, but also as necessary for us to fulfil ourselves morally, so that we
might achieve our end as spiritual, rational self-determining agents through the utilization of external objects. It is by virtue of its
role in facilitating the creative expression of the inner spirit and self-realization of the will that labour acquires dignity [b]. A key
concept in Fichte's ethics is that of conscience, "the immediate consciousness or feeling of our determinate duty". He equates this
with a formal condition to which moral actions must conform: "Act always according to your best conviction of your duty". And
it is in this feeling that reconciliation between the (objective) empirical Ego and the (subjective) pure Ego can be effected and
harmony achieved [c]. Conscience is infallible; and if we are immediately conscious of our duty we are obliged to do it. But
Fichte recognises that its precise application to a particular course of action may not always be clear; and indeed we may
ourselves often be responsible for obscuring our own conscience. In such cases, if we do not act impulsively, we should act so as
to maximize self-advantage. The philosopher's job is to deduce and set out general rules for action and to categorize them
according as to whether they are conducive or not to the Ego's moral end. But the determination of one's actual obligation in a
particular situation remains a matter for the individual conscience. Failure to attend to the call of duty, backsliding or laziness on
the part of the empirical ego constitutes evil [d].
 POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY
[4] [The System of Ethics; The Foundation of Natural Right.] We exist in a context of constraint. There can be no self-
consciousness unless the finite individual Ego can be set off against other similar Egos. And to act in any way presupposes a
common sensible and unique social and cultural world in which our action can occur. Members of a community of rational beings
necessarily constrain each other. As Fichte says, our freedom is limited in so far as we recognise the freedom of others. He
expresses this formally in his 'Rule of Right' [a], which provides the justification for private property, public expression of
opinion, and so on. To reconcile the equal claims of all members of the community to such rights he says that individual wills
have to be 'united' to become one General Will. Fichte regards the State as the 'super-sensible' structure and agent through which
this can be articulated and the rights and freedom of its members thereby guaranteed and their self-realization made possible (and
thence the self-realization of the Absolute Ego). To establish this State individuals enter into a social contract [b].
As to the kind of state he advocates, he rejects both despotism and democracy (in the sense of rule by the people which he
thinks leads to chaos). But within these extremes a range of constitutions may be compatible with the concept of the rational state.
He seems to have favoured a kind of collective ombudsman (he calls it the 'Ephorate') to check any abuse of power. Such a
collective or oligarchy, however, is to possess neither legislative nor executive functions [c]. He envisages a planned economy and
division of labour so as to encourage material, social, and spiritual self-realization. But once all the members of the community
have acquired moral perfection the State will no longer have a purpose and will cease to exist [d]. Fichte also anticipates that the
idea of the general Will can be extended to cover all mankind in a federation of nations; and, ironically, he supposed that the
German nation might be the pacesetter towards this ultimate unification. [See Natural Right.]

PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION
[5] Fichte did not have a fixed position on religion; his views were constantly being modified. Initially [The Foundation of our
Belief in a Divine Providence] he tended towards a kind of Spinozistic pantheism (but which was regarded by many
contemporaries as atheism). Considered from the standpoint of ordinary consciousness or from empirical science, there can be no
place for a divine intelligence; the Absolute Being is the world. At the same time we think ('transcendentally') of the world as
'opposited' by the Absolute Being or Ego. However, this gives rise to a dilemma. Is the Absolute Ego a being prior to Nature
which posits it as a totality of individual Egos? Or is it a manifestation of the subconscious strivings of individuals, acting only in
and through them? In general Fichte seems to regard the Absolute as the One Life which intuits the objects of the material world.
This might perhaps be identified with God as the active ordering process or living moral order (the ordo ordinans), to which the
Ego belongs the Non-Ego, the world (ordo ordinata) being the means by which the Ego can achieve its satisfaction for its
striving. However, we cannot attribute personality or substantiality to such a being. Any attempt to describe it would condition it
and render it dependent. All we can do, Fichte says [The Vocation of Man], is to think of the One Life or 'active ordering' as the
infinite creative Reason or eternal Will [a], by which everything exists as 'presentations' and in which it becomes conscious of
itself. Whether as moral order or infinite Will 'God' must remain an object of faith (manifested in action) and not knowledge [b].
In later works [for example, The Doctrine of Religion] Fichte emphasized the transcendence, and self-subsistence of Absolute
Being, while maintaining its identification with the one infinite, eternal 'Life'. This Being knows itself absolutely (as object)
through its external expression (its Dasein, or 'being there') in consciousness and thus through the individual consciousnesses (as
subjects) of rational individuals (though they themselves cannot grasp the totality). An alternative view was also offered at about
the same time [in his 1804 lectures on the Theory of Science], according to which the Absolute is Light and its essence Being and
Thought [c], an apparent division between which is exhibited only in Light's radiation.

CRITICAL SUMMARY
Fichte's philosophy can readily be understood as a response to Kant's. Arguing that Kant cannot consistently claim even that there
is a thing-in-itself, a noumenon, Fichte asserts, nevertheless, that is knowable through practical reason as the unlimited
Absolute Ego or Being. The central thrust of his thinking is therefore towards an ethical idealism. In effect he subordinates Kant's
first Critique to the second, restricts the scope of cognition, and synthesizes 'subject' and 'object'. Indeed in his identification of
'feeling' or conscience with the 'formal condition' of duty he may be supposed to have made an advance on Kant's categorical
imperative. Against this, it can be argued that it does not bring about the harmonization of the subjective and objective Egos as he
supposes. Furthermore, one can question whether the tension between the theoretical and practical deductions can be sustained.
The self-positing pure Ego is supposed to utilize the Non-Ego as its means (in the primacy of the practical) while at the level of
the theoretical it is conceived of as being limited or determined by the Non-Ego. Arguably the dualism between consciousness and
'dead' Nature has not been satisfactorily resolved. And it is questionable whether Fichte's claim that conscience is infallible is
tenable given his wish (with Kant) to exclude all considerations of heteronomy in moral judgements. Moreover, in the context of
German Idealism, Fichte's system has been held to be one-sided. Criticisms have also be levelled against the religious aspect of
his thought. It has been said that the various stages of development of his ideas are not always consistent. While his early views
led to the charge of atheism, his later metaphysical accounts of God as Absolute being or as 'Light' have been seen as evidence of
a sharp break with his ethical idealism. Fichte himself would seem to have regarded the latter as 'being' implicit in and
presupposing the divine Absolute Being.
SCHLEIERMACHER ( 1768 1834)
MONISM
Friedrich Schleiermacher was born at Breslau. His father, a clergyman of the Reformed Church sent him to the Moravian Brothers
for his schooling. He then studied theology at the University of Halle, where he also became interested in philosophy. He was
ordained in 1790 and worked as a tutor before taking up pastoral posts in Landsberg and then Berlin in 1796. While there he was
in close contact with Friedrich von Schlegel and other figures of the Romantic movement. He was appointed to a university chair
at Halle in 1804, and in 1810 he became professor of theology at Berlin, lecturing also on ethics and hermeneutics.

PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION/ METAPHYSICS

[1] Schleiermacher is concerned with the relation between the totalities of thought or Spirit (the 'ideal') and its 'image', Being or
Nature (the 'real'). Scientific knowledge, which involves perception and the empirical, deals primarily with Being; while ethical
knowledge relates principally to thought. Nevertheless each kind of knowledge tends partially to the other (science attempts to
discover the origin of consciousness in the organism; ethics considers the way the will controls the sensuous aspect of the
organism). This 'dialectic of becoming', however, is incomplete. Indeed total knowledge the identity of Being and thought is
achieved only in the infinite reality that Schleiermacher calls God [a]. We cannot grasp this identity of Nature and Spirit through
reflective thinking or idealist metaphysical systems, but we can have an intuitive feeling of it. When we reflect on our own self or
ego, we come to feel an 'immediate self-consciousness' as dependent on a totality which transcends all distinctions; this is the
infinite Being [b]. This feeling of dependence on or 'communion' with the infinite identity is the basis of religion; Schleiermacher
does not appeal to a 'religion of morality'. He thus clearly separates religious experience from metaphysics and theology. The task
of metaphysics (more specifically philosophical theology) is to reconcile the notion of a God as a unity with the finite world [c]
which is the totality of all oppositions and distinctions. He therefore thinks of the ideas of God and the world as interdependent,
neither completely identical nor completely separate. The relation of God to the world is to be understood as that of a logical
antecedent to consequent. God in Himself is beyond our conceptual grasp; and we cannot therefore apply to Him human attributes
such as personality, goodness, and the like [d]. But Schleiermacher does regard God as active life which manifests itself in the
finite world [e].

ETHICS
[2] As manifestations of God and ends in themselves finite individuals should seek to harmonize Spirit and Nature, reason and
desire, so as to develop a fully integrated and moral personality and religious consciousness in the context of their unique
properties and 'humanity' [a]. This is possible only in a community of other personalities who respect each other. This
philosophical ethic coincides in content with the morality of Christianity, which Schleiermacher sees as the latest and highest
revelation of an ideal expressed symbolically through dogmas but which we can never fully comprehend. Our consciousness of
our dependence on God as the infinite identity, however, is central [b].

HERMENEUTICS
[3] Because ethics or practical reason cannot be separated from individual impulses, desires, and so on, it must for Schleiermacher
be expressed in the historical dimension [a]. The object of ethics, he says, is "reason in history". So actions take place at a
particular time and in a particular place. Moreover, they are conditioned by the forms through which individual agents in a
community can interrelate, namely family, church, nation, and the like. Further, each individual differs inwardly from all others by
virtue of what Schleiermacher calls his 'proprium' or own peculiarity (Eigentmlichkeit) [b], that is, the special organization in him
that gives him his unique identity. Given the internal and external limitations on his actions and discourse what he calls "the
means for the sociality of thinking" and hence speaking, Schleiermacher rejects the possibility of attaining to any universal
philosophy. We are also liable to misunderstand texts written at a different time from our own or in a different culture. As
interpreters we tend to impose our own personal and cultural prejudices or presuppositions, and thereby miss or distort the
meaning of the text. He therefore argues that the interpreter's aim should be to transcend these prejudices and attempt to discover,
by a process of reconstruction from textual 'clues', what was in the mind of the author in a sense to 'experience' what his
intentions were [c]. He distinguishes between a 'grammatical' interpretation, which is concerned with the common language of the
writer's culture, and a 'technical' or 'psychological' interpretation which seeks to uncover his subjective and unique genius. This
latter can take on a 'divinatory' aspect. Implicit in his approach therefore is a distinction between scientific explanation or
conceptual analysis and empathetic understanding (Verstehen) [d].

CRITICAL SUMMARY
The two central features of Schleiermacher's philosophy are (1) his clear separation between religion (as concerned with feeling/
intuition and dependence on God), and metaphysics and ethics (as being grounded in reason to conceptualize God and the world);
and (2) his view that action and the ethical life are conditioned by historical-cultural factors and the 'peculiarity' of each
individual. This latter feature was to be influential in the development of philosophies of culture and hermeneutics. These
positions, however, lead to difficulties.

(1) There is a tension between the pantheistic tendencies of his thought and (a) the need for a distinction to be made between God
and Nature, and (b) his emphasis on individuality and freedom in the sphere of action.
(2) His recognition of subjective factors in interpretation raises questions of cultural relativism and whether an 'objective' truth is
attainable. Schleiermacher himself rules out the possibility of a universal philosophy because he sees all thought as conditioned.

HEGEL (1770 1831)

ABSOLUTE IDEALISM
Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel was born in Stuttgart, the son of a civil servant. He was educated at the local Gymnasium and
then studied philosophy and theology at the University of Tbingen (where he became friends with Schelling and the poet
Hlderin). After graduating he worked for seven years as a family tutor, during which time he started to write. In 1801 he became
a professor at Jena but had to leave when the university closed down in 1806 because of the Battle of Jena. He then edited a
newspaper, and was appointed Rector of a grammar school in Nuremburg. He was a professor at Heidelberg in 1816, and two
years later he succeeded Fichte in the chair at Berlin, where he died of cholera.

Introductory Summary:
THE METAPHYSICAL SYSTEM/ KNOWLEDGE
[1] In common with his idealist predecessors, Fichte and Schelling, Hegel built on the philosophy of Kant. But, as against the
Knigsberg philosopher, he attributed to human reason the capacity to grasp the Real. There is for Hegel no unknowable 'thing-in-
itself': Reality is knowable. The real is the rational, and the rational is the real [a]. He also rejected the phenomenal and noumenal
dichotomy and the sharp division Kant made between reason and sense/ feeling or desire; for Hegel the two aspects were
reconciled in the Real [b]. Hegel's metaphysical system comprehends all aspects of his philosophy theory of knowledge,
philosophy of Nature, philosophy of mind, ethics, aesthetics, philosophy of religion, and philosophy of history. The central
concept is that of the Absolute, the infinite creative totality in which all finite distinctions are unified. He regards this as Spirit
(Geist) and self-thinking thought, an identity-in-difference of the ideal and real, of subjectivity and objectivity. It is a necessary
process of self-development from potentiality to actuality, which reveals itself in and through finite Nature, its self-knowledge
being achieved through the philosophical reflection of man (and articulated finally, we might suppose, in Hegel's own thought and
philosophy) [c].

METHODOLOGY
[2] The inner essence of the Absolute as it is 'in itself' is revealed through logic. But this is neither the logic of Aristotle nor
modern formal logic. Hegel's method is dialectical. Dialectic is to be understood as the articulation, exploration, revelation of
categories undergoing a progressive transformation culminating in the category of the Absolute Idea [a]. Underlying this is a
distinction between understanding (Verstand) and reason (Vernunft). Through the understanding we may grasp concepts such as
the finite and the infinite, the one and the many, reality and appearance. Such polar oppositions may be important in our everyday
practical lives or in the sciences. But Hegel sees reliance on the understanding as limited in so far as its concepts are 'static', rigid,
and superficial; and it does not allow these 'contradictories' to be overcome. The understanding cannot supply us with knowledge
of the life of the Absolute. To transcend oppositions, overcome contradictions, requires (dynamic) reason or speculative thought;
this alone can grasp how one concept or category can pass over into its opposite, both being united in a higher identity-in-
difference. Central to the rational process is negation (for Hegel to negate is to determine and to posit); and the process is triadic:
a thesis is opposed by its antithesis; both are taken up in a new synthesis. The synthesis is in turn opposed by a new antithesis; and
eventually the ultimate self-explanatory principle is attained. This is the dialectical method, motivated, as it were, by an inner
necessity of Reason, an Absolute process working through the finitude of the human spirit to resolve 'contradictions' and achieve
self-knowledge. Put more simply, the Absolute comes to know itself through human philosophical reflection [b]. Hegel's
philosophical system is a 'deduction' (though not in the narrow sense as used in formal logic) of the categories leading
progressively through to ever more coherent, that is, true intellectual revelations of the Real, culminating in the category of the
Absolute itself. These categories are at once 'definitions' of the Absolute and, as universal concepts, applicable to the actual
existent entities constituting the universe. And the Absolute is implicit in each individual category in so far as each constitutes an
element in the total system [c].

Hegel's metaphysical system, as presented in the Encyclopedia:

[I. Logic]
[3] [Encl.I, 1-83] The function of logic (as Hegel understands it) is to make possible the study of the Absolute or Idea as it is 'in
itself ' as 'potential' rather than 'actual' Spirit, to reveal its inner essence through the dialectic deduction of the categories by
pure reason. The Absolute spirit as self-thinking thought manifesting itself in finite Nature thereby comes to know its own being.
(Logic and metaphysics thus coincide) [a].
[Division 1of the Logic] is the Doctrine of Being [84ff.]. The fundamental or first category, logically and ontologically, is that of
pure Being (Sein). But as it is completely empty or indeterminate it passes over into non-Being or nothing. However, the
'contradiction' of Being and non-Being (thesis versus antithesis) is resolved in the higher synthesis of Becoming [88]. Becoming
is then shown to give rise to Determinate Being [89] by removing from it the element of change and replacing it by rest. Within
the category of Determinate Being Quality as thesis gives rise to Limit as antithesis, from which the synthesis of the 'True Infinite'
is deduced [94] [b]. This in turn gives way to the category of Being-for-self [96ff.] which contains the triad The One, the Many,
and Repulsion-Attraction. Hegel then moves from this to the spheres firstly of Quantity [99] and then of Measure [107]. [To
understand precisely how each category has been supposedly deduced from that which precedes it the reader should read Hegel's
own detailed account in the Encyclopedia.]
.[Division 2] is the Doctrine of Essence (Wesen) [112-159]. Hegel calls the concepts in this Division categories of reflection, in
that they relate to a reflective consciousness which has access to the inner essence lying behind Being in its phenomenal
existence. From the category of Essence as Ground of Existence [115-128] he derives 'The Thing' an existent considered under
the aspect of both 'reflection-into-self' (self-subsistence) and reflection-into-another (dependence); while 'The Thing' is analysable
into inherent dependent properties, which in turn are seen as independent 'matters' of which a thing is composed. This leads to a
deduction of Matter as such and its correlate, Form. Matter "the immediate unity of existence with itself", is "indifferent towards
specific character" and is thus is indeterminate, featureless; while Form, "the reflective category of difference" constitutes and
defines the thing's distinct properties and their external relations to each other. As Hegel explains, the category of The Thing as a
totality is a contradiction:
On the side of its negative unity it is Form in which Matter is determined and deposed to the rank of properties. At the same time
it consists of Matters, which in the reflection-of-the-thing-into-itself are as much independent as they are at the same time
negatived. Thus the thing is the essential existence, in such a way as to be an existence that suspends or absorbs itself in itself. In
other words the thing is an Appearance or Phenomenon. [128]

Actuality (Wirklichkeit) [142-159] is the synthesis of (a) Essence as Ground of Existence and (b) Appearance [131-140], that is,
the inner and outer aspects of Being. From Actuality he ultimately derives Substance and Existence, Cause (active substance) and
Effect (passive substance), and Reciprocity (in which category activity is passivity and vice versa). Being and Essence in turn
produce a synthesis in the category of the Notion or Concept (Begriff) [Division 3] [c]. Hegel's argument here is that while
each category in the category of Being is seemingly self-sufficient and immediate, and the categories in the category of Essence
are relational and mediational, the category of the Notion is seen to be self-mediating, passing from itself into its opposite yet
remaining itself. This category of Notion [160] is subdivided into a formal or subjective aspect, which leads to a deduction of
logic in its traditional sense, and an objective aspect under which are subsumed the categories of the concept of Nature (the
'sensuous' realm) 'Mechanism' [195], 'Chemism' [200], and their synthesis as Teleology [204]. In the unity and identity of the
Subjective Notion and Objective Notion we have the the category of the Idea [213]. This in turn has three phases: Life [216],
Cognition [223], and the Absolute Idea [236]. This last is the synthesis of the life-process (in which the organic has reabsorbed the
inorganic into itself) and self-thinking thought or Spirit, which both knows itself in and as the object: "The Absolute Idea alone is
being, eternal life, self-knowing truth, and it is all truth, it is the one subject-matter and content of philosophy" [Science of Logic,
1781]. It is "the noesis noeseos which Aristotle long ago termed the supreme form of the idea." [Encl. 236 n.] [d].

[II. Philosophy of Nature]

[4] [Encycl. II, 192-5] From the Logical Idea Hegel moves to his Philosophy of Nature, which is the Absolute or Idea considered
'for itself ' as 'self-alienated' Spirit. As the means whereby the Absolute realizes itself, comes to a knowledge of itself through
the human spirit, Nature must be a precondition for this process; and Hegel sees the deduction of Nature as revealing it. The
Absolute as Idea cannot exist separate from Nature but is yet logically prior to it. Nature in its structure and universality is the
manifestation of free rational Spirit and is thus a necessary process, its explanation being given in terms of reason; but considered
in itself, in its concrete particularity, it is abstracted from and is external to the Idea and is thus the realm of contingency, though a
contingency which is essential to Nature. Hegel says Nature is 'impotent' to keep within the bounds of reason and thus far is
irrational. Nature is a 'decline' (Abfall) from the Idea. Thus we might say, consistently with his dialectic, that Nature is both
identity of necessity-in-contingency and freedom-in-determinism. Contingent Nature is a necessary realization of free Spirit and
is knowable through the dialectic. Clearly Hegel rejects the view that it is the Non-Ego which yet remains within the sphere of a
conscious Absolute Ego and that it is to be known only practically as the means through which individual egos can realize
themselves morally [a].
The category of Nature gives rise to three Divisions: Mechanics [206ff.], Physics [218ff.], and Organics [260ff.]. From the first
we may derive the categories of Space and Time, Matter and Motion, and Absolute Mechanics. Further deductions can then be
made. As for space and time [197-199, 200-02], Hegel, disregarding Kant's 'subjective idealism', considers these to be
abstractions, that is, pure forms, devoid of any kind of determination or character, and as such are in stark opposition to the
'internality' of mind or thought, that is, Being [b]. "Space and time constitute the idea in and for itself, with space the real or
immediately objective side and time the purely subjective side" [203]. Time in its concept is "like the concept itself generally,
eternal, and therefore absolute presence" [201] . Space and time, he says, disappear and regenerate in each other, thus constituting
motion, a becoming, which is the "identically existing unity of both", or matter. But this transition from ideality to reality, from
abstraction to concrete existence, a transition from space and time to reality, appearing as matter, as a given entity, is
incomprehensible to the understanding.
These divisions and sub-divisions represent Hegel's attempt to work through the dialectical process of the Absolute in Nature,
which underlies the concepts, structures, and empirically observable data of the sciences. He is thus concerned with a Philosophy
of Nature and not with this or that scientific hypothesis; and with logical deduction, not with explanation of particulars in terms of
efficient causality.

MIND
[III. Philosophy of Spirit]
[5] Although the Absolute or Idea is reflected and manifested in Nature, the human spirit is required to effect its transition from
Nature to existent Spirit 'in-and-for-itself'. Hegel's treatment of this transition and the emergence of Absolute existent Spirit
constitutes the third part of his dialectical system.
Division 1 of the Philosophy of Spirit [Encycl. III, 387-482] is the category of (finite and non-conscious) Subjective Spirit. From
within the Sphere of 'Anthropology' (the soul) Hegel deduces the categories of the Natural Soul (Physical Qualities, Physical
Alterations, Sensibility); the Feeling Soul (in its Immediacy, Self-feeling, Habit); and the Actual Soul [411]. The Actual Soul is an
organic unity of an 'inner' and an 'outer' aspect, respectively universal soul and particular body in which the universality is
manifested. (Mechanical relationships apply only to 'inert' matter.) It is doubtful that Hegel accepted that the soul is literally
immortal [a]. (In his note to 34 of the Logic he refers to the pre-Kantian view of the soul as a 'thing' and comments on the
ambiguity of this word. If by this we mean "an immediate existence, something we represent in sensuous form", then the soul is
"in space and sensuously envisaged"; and we can ask whether it is simple or composite. And he adds that the question is important
as bearing on the soul's immortality, which is supposed to depend on the absence of composition.)
But the fact is, that in abstract simplicity we have a category which as little corresponds to the nature of the soul, as that of
compositeness. The actual soul is self-enclosed or self-contained, possessing self-feeling, sensation, and so on, but lacking self-
consciousness.
The soul's consciousness of itself arises only as a consequence of its rational awareness of external objects (qua real universals)
[424] [b]. This leads to the Sphere of Phenomenology consciousness in relation to others.
We now have the triad of Consciousness Proper [418-23] (Sensuous Consciousness, Sense-Perception, Intellect); Self-
Consciousness [424-437] (Appetite/ Instinctive Desire), 'Self-Consciousness Recognitive', (Universal Self-Consciousness); and
Reason [438]. Hegel here takes up and develops many of the ideas he had set out in the Phenomenology of Spirit. He starts with
the supposed immediacy and certainty of sense-apprehension of individual objects. But our knowledge is only of abstractions; all
descriptions, even of 'this' are of universals applicable to other objects. There is thus an emptying of particularity: the 'this' does
not exist; there is a self-contradiction in sense-perception as between the individual and the universal. The thing then has to be
conceived as mediated through perception as a nexus of universals [c]. Sense-perception in turn gives way to the realm of
scientific intellect (that is, understanding). The intellect recognises the universal laws (essence) which explain individual
phenomena (appearances) [d]. Appearance is thus reconciled with real essence; law and phenomenon are identical. In its new
phase consciousness becomes self-conscious. Self-consciousness, considered initially as appetite, seeks to control or appropriate
the external object to itself. However, genuine self-consciousness demands that another self be recognised not as an object to be
annihilated but as a self (the 'slave') which will acknowledge the first self's own selfhood (the 'master')But such a relationship is
inherently unstable, in so far as the slave is thereby reduced to an unreal thing and therefore cannot provide the master with his
guarantee of freedom. Further, through labour, doing his master's bidding, the slave "makes himself" and becomes independent
and self-conscious. 'Self-consciousness Recognitive' thereupon leads to universal self-consciousness, a stage at which mutual
recognition of each other's self-consciousness is achieved. Consciousness and self-consciousness can then be unified through
Reason (Vernunft), which both enables the subject to recognise the distinction between itself and the object and yet sees that the
distinction lies within itself. The object becomes identity-in-difference [e].
The Sphere of Psychology [ 440-82] is now attained: this is the Sphere of Mind (Geist) in itself. Again we have a deduction of
three categories: Theoretical Mind [445-68] (Intuition, Representation including Recollection, Imagination, and Memory,
and Thinking); Practical Mind [469-80 (Practical Sense Impulses and Choice, Happiness); and Free Mind [481]. As in the case of
categories relating to the sciences, Hegel's treatment here concerns not an empirical discipline of psychology but the dialectical
process, that is, the deduction of the stages through which the active finite spirit passes. He argues that the free mind (or 'will')
arises as the unity of the theoretical and practical spirit, and exists for itself as free, that is self-determining, self-conscious will
as "free intelligence". In that way Spirit-in-Itself is identified with Rational Will [f].

ETHICS
[6] [gen 6] [Division 2 of the Philosophy of Spirit, Encycl. III, 483-552] is the category of Objective Spirit. Inner Subjective Spirit
must now pass over into external objectivity. Within this category Hegel distinguishes Abstract Right, Morality and Social Ethics,
and within the Sphere of Abstract Right [487-502] he includes Property [488-92], Contract [493-95], and Wrong (tort and crime)
[496-502]. Free and intelligent individual wills express themselves objectively and universally by utilizing material things and
thus come to 'own' them. Property can also be given up: the thing becomes 'alienated' [a]. But two or more wills can agree to own
property for some common purpose, and this gives rise to the concept of contract. In so far as a contract can be broken this leads
to the concept of wrong, the 'negation' of which Hegel sees as the concept of punishment. From this he derives his dialectical
treatment of morality. Punishment being 'external', the opposition of a particular will (as practical mind) determines itself to
harmonize with universal will and thus becomes moral will [b].
The Sphere of Morality [503-12], is subdivided into Purpose [504], Intention and Well-Being [505-6] and Goodness and
Wickedness [507-12]. Morality is grounded in action; and understood 'formally' the moral will is that which regards itself alone as
the source of its principle of action. But he recognises that everything we do has consequences. These are our 'performances' or
'transactions' (Handlungen). He reserves the term 'deed' (Tat) to be used in a strict sense for those actions which we will
purposefully and whose consequences we have foreseen. The ends at which we aim, which we intend, and which Hegel sees as
satisfying our human needs, securing our welfare, have a role to play in morality [c]. However, subjectivity or egoism is
transcended in so far as our particular wills are directed towards the welfare of all, and are identified with the rational will itself
[d]. The good will is thus that which recognises an obligation to conform its particularity to the universal spirit. Recognition of
right and duty, and thereby the good, is guaranteed by conscience [e]. In so far as the will is rational and wills the universal
Notion, that is, the moral or legal law, rather than following desire it is free. Complete realization of its freedom coincides with
the will's objective self-contemplation and thereby brings about the good and happiness (as the will's universal satisfaction). The
"absolute purpose of the world" is thus achieved. At the same time, for Hegel the universe as a totality is already absolute Good.
But in so far as the finite will regards the world as alien and as constricting, it sees the good as yet to be accomplished [f].

POLITICAL/ SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY

[7] So far, Hegel says, we are confined to the realm of subjectivity the inner aspect of morality (Moralitt). Now, as action is
manifested in the external world this concept permits a transition to the outer aspect of morality, that is, customary or Social
Ethics (Sittlichkeit) in which Abstract Right and Morality can be unified. The Sphere of Social Ethics [513-52] covers the
deduction of the Family [518-22], Civil Society [523-34], and the State [535-52]. With reference to the respective roles played by
individuals in relation to the family and civil society, Hegel thinks of these concepts as in opposition. Individuals belong to the
family as parts of a unity, while in civil society they are separate, discrete elements seeking their own satisfaction. The
universality of the former concept and the particularity of the latter are reconciled in the unity-in-difference of the concept of the
'organic' State. The State, as the actualization of the rational self-conscious will and expressing objective Spirit, is the source of
the concept of right and morality [a]. The individual's duties are determined by his position in the social organism; and it is in
identifying his will with the general will of the state that the individual actualizes his freedom [b]. And it is the State which
provides the framework for the satisfaction of individual needs and promotes self-realization, though at the same time the state
and its institutions alienate the individual in that they oppose and constrain him [c]. And he regards this provision as a test of the
suitability or effectiveness of the political constitution of a mature rational state. But he recognises also that there are many
possible constitutions, each having developed historically from and therefore "in identity with" the respective 'spirit' (Volksgeist)
of different nations. He is not therefore proposing any utopian or ideal political structure within which uniquely the moral life can
most perfectly be achieved [d]. Rather he is showing how the history of states can be understood in terms of the dialectical
teleological process of self-actualizing Spirit. Hence his concern with world-history in which the Spirit manifests itself as World-
Spirit (Weltgeist) through human consciousness [d]. [See also sec. 9.]

ART, RELIGION, AND PHILOSOPHY

[8] [Division 3 of the Philosophy of Spirit, Encycl. III, 553-77]: Absolute Spirit. With the concept of Absolute Spirit Hegel claims
to have reconciled and brought into a higher synthesis the concepts of Subjective and Objective Spirit. Spirit, while operating
through the finite spirit of national states, is free from their limitations and recognises its own infinitude. This recognition
Absolute Spirit's actualization as self-thinking Thought is realized through the Spheres of Art, Religion, and Philosophy [a].
However, while at the conceptual dialectical level we can grasp that there is a successive transition from art to religion to
philosophy, Hegel accepts that different stages of the temporal historical continuum in which the dialectical process is implicit
may not be coincident with it; all three manifestations of the human spirit may be present simultaneously but in various stages of
development. Accordingly in his account of the Absolute in all these phases he exhibits the historical process as well as deducing
the logical or conceptual transition from each stage to the next.
The Sphere of Art [556-63]. In the context of the dialectic the Absolute, Hegel says, is manifested in sensuous appearance as
beauty. His idea of beauty is called the Ideal, and is the unity of subjectivity (spirit) and objectivity (matter), as found in the work
of art. (Beauty occurs in Nature too, but he thinks it is superior in art, which is the immediate creation of Spirit.) Depending on
the relationship of the (ideal) content to the (sensuous) form, different types of art may be distinguished. If the sensuous
predominates over the content, we have symbolic art (for example, of India and Egypt); if the spiritual and sensuous elements are
found in a harmonious unity we have Classical art (such as that of the Greeks); while if the spiritual aspect 'overflows' the
sensuous, we have 'romantic' art (the art of Christendom). And Hegel regards this last as the highest type in so far as it is in
Romantic art that the transition to the Sphere of Religion is effected. However, considered as art in itself, that is, as judged by
aesthetic standards, Classical art is the perfect type. Hegel goes on to show that each type of art is associated with particular arts,
though not in a rigid or mutually exclusive way. Thus, architecture tends to be characteristic of Symbolic art, sculpture primarily
of Classical art, and poetry, painting, and music (which involve action and conflict) of Romantic art: but there are of course
Classical and Romantic forms of architecture. Hegel's discussion of poetry is particularly interesting. He distinguishes between
epic poetry (whose principle is objectivity) and lyrical poetry (subjectivity). Dramatic poetry represents their higher synthesis and
is characterized by 'collision'. In tragic drama (Hegel has in mind particularly Greek drama especially the Antigone) conflicts arise
from the opposing but equally justifiable ethical claims espoused by the characters. In conformity with his dialectic he argues that
the antagonists achieve a kind of reconciliation in death [b]. Comic drama by contrast justifies what has ethical value through its
exposure of worthlessness. Both kinds of drama are said to be unified in a third type which Hegel calls the 'social play'. With
poetry the organic unity of the 'spiritual' and the 'sensuous', which characterizes art, is fractured. Art thereby abolishes itself, and
Spirit moves into the higher Sphere of Religion.
The Sphere of Religion [564-71] is divided into the deducible categories of Religion in General, 'Definite' Religion, and the
'Absolute' Religion which Hegel identifies with Christianity. He regards this Sphere as intermediate between the Spheres of Art
and Philosophy in that unlike the former it thinks the Absolute, but it differs from the latter in so far as what is revealed of the
Absolute is through images (Vorstellungen), for example, the notions of creation, God as a (triune) person, the incarnation, and
not through pure concepts. These images are at once sensuous (particular) and rational (universal). The category of Religion in
General allows a further deduction into three phases of religious consciousness. (1) God is the universal, infinite, and only true
reality, lacking all differentiation [c]. (2) The finite individual creature sees the infinite God as set against him: hence his feelings
of being a 'sinner' and alienated. (3) Through religious rituals the union between the finite and the infinite is restored. Hegel then
embarks on a consideration of the development of particular religions in the various cultures which have appeared in the course of
history (Definite Religion). He distinguishes (a) Religions of Nature, which involve (i) magic, (ii) a conception of God as
'Substance' ('pantheisms' such as Chinese religion, Hinduism, Buddhism), and (iii) Religions such as Zoroastrianism, Syrian, and
Egyptian, which he regards as transitional to (b) the Religions of Spiritual Individuality, namely Jewish, Greek, and Roman. He
then arrives at the third phase of religious consciousness: Christianity, which 'represents' God as both immanent and transcendent,
and man as in union with the Triune God as a consequence of his incarnation in Christ.
The Sphere of Philosophy [572-7]. Finally Hegel deduces the third category of Absolute Spirit Philosophy itself, in which pure
conceptual thought of God as Absolute is made possible [d]. Here we arrive at the culmination of Hegel's system and at the
same time return to the beginning, to the Idea of the Logic, which is now itself grasped as the manifestation of the Absolute: "The
eternal Idea, in full fruition of its essence, eternally sets itself to work, engenders and enjoys itself as absolute Mind" [577]. Hegel
sees no incompatibility between Philosophy and Religion; Philosophy completes Religion, while Religion relates Philosophy to
life.
What then of proofs of God's existence?. (1) From the standpoint of the philosophical sphere 'proof' is the totality of Hegel's own
dialectical system. The finite is itself shown to be a manifestation of Infinite Being, the necessarily existing Absolute Idea. The
qualitative distinction between God and man is thereby eliminated. As he says [in Lectures on the Philosophy of Religion, vol. II,
Appendix: 'Proofs for the Existence of God'], the reality or existence (as Idea), the unity of subject and object, must correspond to
the Notion. (This is Hegel's version of the Ontological Argument.) He does not, however, accept pantheism and does not 'divinize'
Nature [[573] [e]. Certainly Nature in itself in the idea is divine, but it exhibits no freedom in its existence, only necessity and
contingency; and so, in the determinate existence, which makes it nature, is not to be deified. "As it is, the being of nature does
not correspond to its concept; its existing actuality therefore has no truth; its abstract essence is the negative, as the ancients
conceived of matter in general as the non-ens." But in so far as Nature is a representation of the Idea, one may admire in it the
wisdom of God" [Encycl. II, 193].
(2) Within the intermediate religious sphere traditional 'proofs' for God's existence, he says, represent attempts by reason to
support faith and feeling. Necessarily they are inadequate to the extent that they separate the finite from the infinite, and then try
to move from the former to the latter as different in kind (whereas Being is both finite and infinite) [f]. Nevertheless, they can be
seen legitimately as attempts to articulate that towards which faith is directed [Phil.Rel. III].

PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY
[9] [See Encycl. III, 548-52; also Lectures on the Philosophy of History] As we have seen, Hegel alludes to historical
development on a number of occasions in connection with nations, forms of art, and religions. These are all particular and
empirical manifestations of history in culture. He subdivides history into original history, reflective history, and philosophical
history. From the wider perspective, however, history is the process through or in which both the Absolute and Infinite Thought
unfolds itself dialectically and (seemingly) inevitably as World-Spirit (Weltgeist) and human thought works towards [in the
Encyclopedia, following his Phenomenology of Mind] an adequate understanding of the Absolute or [in Philosophy of History] of
freedom knowledge and freedom, for Hegel, being in fact interdependent in that one's freedom consists in possessing a 'free
mind' which reason will then follow [Encycl.II, 481] [a]. With respect to philosophical history, Hegel stresses that national
histories, as phases in the development of the World-Spirit, can be judged by historians only in terms of the categories and
prejudices of their own cultures and national spirits [b]: complete impartiality is not attainable. Indeed he attempts to trace stages
in world history as possessing characteristic features the despotism of the oriental world, consciousness of freedom for the few
in the Graeco-Roman cultures, the Christian and latterly the 'Germanic' recognition of human freedom in general. He also argues
that "great men" play a central role in the dialectic of the national spirit of states, though they may not always be aware of it.

CRITICAL SUMMARY
Like Fichte and Schelling, Hegel was concerned to overcome the dualism bequeathed by Kant. He initially agreed with Schelling
that Fichte had debased Nature by leaving it in the realm of the 'subjective' creative Ego. He also rejected Fichte's treatment of
Nature as being only the means for man's moral improvement. However, he came to regard Schelling's approach as equally
unsatisfactory. Firstly he objected to what he supposed to be Schelling's 'divinization' of Nature. Secondly he was critical of
Schelling's 'identification' of (subjective) Mind and (objective) Nature, the ideal and the real, as the manifestation of a
transcendent Absolute which is essentially closed to positive conceptualization; an Absolute of total indifference as between the
subjective and objective. As he says [Phenomenology I, 15], this Absolute is "like the night in which all cows are black" (though
some scholars, especially Bowie, have questioned whether he did in fact have Schelling in mind here).

The essential features of Hegel's own monumental system may be summarized as follows. The inner essence of the Absolute as it
is 'in itself' is revealed through a progressive dialectical logic (lacking in Schelling's philosophy). The Infinite Absolute is
logically prior to yet requires finite Nature for its self-expression and self-knowledge as the Absolute 'for-itself'. Hegel examines
this process in his philosophy of Nature. In Nature we find identity of both necessity-in-freedom and freedom-in-determinism.
Nature is conceived as a 'fall' from the Absolute and as imperfect and incomplete it is irrational. Hegel makes it clear that this is
not a scientific hypothesis; his logical deduction is not an explanation in terms of the concept of causality. For its expression to be
fully revealed the Absolute requires a transition from Nature to Absolute Existent Spirit as in-and-for-itself. This is effected
through subjective spirit, that is, the human mind. Hegel traces the dialectical development from human sensation and feeling to
consciousness, self-consciousness, universal self-consciousness, and finally to Reason. The objective spirit is manifested in ethics,
such categories as abstract right, purpose, goodness being duly developed by means of the same dialectical process. It is in the
unity with or identification of particular wills with the rational will itself that Hegel discovers the good as the realization of
freedom the absolute first purpose of the world. Inner morality of course has to be exhibited in the external world, and this
outer morality is dealt with in Hegel's examination of political and social philosophy and of history. It is in history that the
Absolute Mind manifests itself as World-Spirit national histories being phases in its development to be judged by historians
only in terms of the categories and prejudices of their own cultures or national spirits. Reconciliation of subjective and objective
spirit is brought about in the higher synthesis of Absolute Spirit. Spirit recognises its own infinitude through the spheres of Art,
Religion and Philosophy in various stages of development culminating , it is supposed, in Hegel's own philosophical system.
In short, Reality as Absolute Reason is revealed objectively in the dialectic processes of Nature through the reasoning processes
of individual human minds especially the Hegelian philosopher! thereby resolving contradictions consequent on Kantian
dualism.
It can hardly be denied that Hegel's metaphysical system, which marks the final stage in German Idealism, is an extraordinary
achievement. For the boldness, breadth, and all-embracing nature of his speculations he must rank as one of the greatest Western
thinkers. And his writings have been enormously influential not least (positively) on Marx and Sartre, and (negatively) on
Schopenhauer and Kierkegaard, to name but a few philosophers. Nevertheless, his thought has been rejected by most Anglo-
American analytic philosophers. Judged by such considerations as consistency, correctness of assumptions, validity of inferences,
and the application of his dialectic to concrete situations in Nature, it has to be granted that there is some substance in their views.
(Karl Popper refers to Hegel's "gibberish" and his "bombastic and mystifying cant"!)
(1) There is a tension between Hegel's dialectical logic of Being and traditional formal logic in that the articulation of the former
presupposes the latter. To say, for example, that the passing of Being into not Being is a 'negation' of the concept (Hegel often
uses the metaphor of conflict or struggle to describe such a transition) is on the face of it just plain wrong. In the case of other
categories the errors seem even more obvious. These are not 'deductions' in the usual logical sense. One can criticize further his
view that through the dialectic deduction of categories thought is a progressive revelation of the Absolute as ultimate truth, an
increasing grasp of the Real the Real (or Being) is the Rational (as thought), and vice versa. (Indeed it is on this claim that
Schelling's counter-attack was primarily concentrated: he argued that Reason itself could not deduce this identification from
within itself. Rather the identity of reality and rationality as the Absolute is a presupposition of philosophical thought and cannot
be fully grasped by reason, which must start from that which is external to itself, namely, the realm of contingent reality, that is,
being or nature.) Again there is arguably also a conflation here of some metaphysical sense of truth and truth as a feature of
propositions in so far as they relate to the world or cohere with each other. Nevertheless, Hegel's dialectic as such and the claims
he makes are not meaningless, and should not be dismissed out of hand. It is often intellectually useful (though not necessarily
correct) to suppose there is change and development in thought and nature, and that some kind of progress is implicit therein. But
this is a general view, and leads to the next criticism.
(2) There is a lack of coincidence between the dialectic of the categories and the contingent data of experience, in other words in
the application of Hegel's Logic to Nature. He would say that the dialectic represents an ideal which, despite frequent oscillation
or divergence from it of empirical events, is in the course of time ever more closely approximated to and revealed in history and
philosophical thought itself.
(3) As in rationalism, we have an assimilation of causation to logic and reason. This raises the problem of determinism and
historical inevitability.
(4) The problem of the Idea itself. Hegel supposes that the Idea may be identified with God and as freely positing Nature; Nature
is derived from it and thus ontologically separate. Yet Nature may also be regarded as the revelation of the Absolute, and
inseparable from it: the infinite is manifested through the finite understood teleologically and in terms of logical priority. It is
questionable whether these two interpretations are compatible. Arguably Hegel's philosophy and (Christian) religion coincide, in
that the Absolute may be conceived as ultimate thought and being. Indeed, it is an interesting consideration whether his
philosophy as a whole is final. To be consistent his system must presumably allow for further development, though it is difficult to
see quite what form this might take, given that the ultimate category has allegedly been 'deduced'. The 'left' Hegelians certainly
interpreted his philosophy as being incomplete, and regarded it as incompatible with Christianity and such ideas as personal
immortality of the soul. Indeed the initial pantheism of his 'left' followers were soon replaced by the more radical atheism of
Feuerbach and Marx. (Stace [p. 514] is of the opinion that Hegel did not take immortality literally, "but regarded it as a
Vorstellung for the infinitude of spirit and the absolute value of spiritual individuality. Immortality is a present quality of the
spirit, not a future fact or event.") The 'right' Hegelians, however, tended to regard Protestant Christianity and the Prussian State
as the apotheosis of Hegelian thought.
(5) Popper is highly critical both of Hegel's "Platonizing worship of the state", [a] which he sees as a link between Platonism and
modern totalitarianism, and of his dialectic and historicist philosophy.

SCHELLING (1775 1854)

AESTHETIC IDEALISM
Friedrich Schelling, a Lutheran pastor's son, was born at Leonberg, near Stuttgart. He was educated at the Bebenhausen Cloister
School and at the Universities of Tbingen (theology and philosophy) and Leipzig (science and medicine). At Tbingen he was a
friend of Hegel and Hlderlin. His first book (1795) was admired by Fichte whose colleague he became when appointed to a
professorship at Jena in 1798. While there he was in close contact with leading figures of Romanticism and was also co-editor
with Hegel of the Critical Journal of Philosophy. He later lectured at Wrzburg, Stuttgart and Erlangen before being appointed to
the chair at Munich in 1827. He died in Switzerland.

METAPHYSICS/ KNOWLEDGE
Schelling's writings seem to show that his thought was continuously developing, with a view to achieving what he called his
'System of Absolute Identity' [Exposition of my System of Philosophy, 1801]. This work can be seen as an attempt to show that
his Philosophy of Nature (in a number of early books, 1797-9) and his system of Transcendental Idealism complement each other
and underlie his final views concerning the relationship of the finite world and the infinite Absolute.

[1. Philosophy of Nature see especially On the True Concept of Nature Philosophy.]
[1] Although he started out from a Fichtean position which emphasized the primacy of an unlimited Ego, Schelling came to regard
the 'objective' world of Nature (matter) and the 'subjective' Ego (spirit Geist) as equally real and originally a unity and not
distinct in Kant's sense. As he says [Ideas towards a Philosophy of Nature] "Nature becomes invisible spirit; spirit becomes
invisible Nature". Nature and Spirit may be regarded as developing in parallel [a]. In his early work is he is concerned principally
with showing how man's conscious mind emerges from Nature seen as controlled by an unconscious, creative, intelligent active
principle (Ttigskeitprinzip) or 'world-soul' [b]. The self-limitation of consciousness through reflection introduces finitude into
itself and brings about a differentiation from Nature. This split has to be restored on a higher level of philosophical reflection. If
mechanism and teleology are to be reconciled, we need to see Nature as a unified, dynamic, developing, self-organizing and
teleological system which admits of different levels [c] it can be seen as an early stage of Spirit. Schelling says that Nature is
intrinsically intelligible as recognised in its self-reflection (revealed through human thought). To justify this view he
undertakes a 'metaphysical deduction'. He firstly distinguishes between Nature as natura naturans and as natura naturata. As the
former it is 'subjective', primary, productive Nature, the 'universal pattern'. The latter is the 'objective' system of finite and
temporal particular things constituting Nature's phenomenal being the symbol, as it were, of natura naturans. Schelling thinks
of Nature in both these aspects as manifestations of the Absolute in, respectively, the ('inner') ideal and the ('outer') real orders.
For each of these he traces three 'moments' in the Absolute considered as (a) a timeless and eternal act of self-knowledge, and
(b) as the intuited Ground of the ideal and real. With respect to the former the Absolute is understood as 'objectifying' itself in
Nature, transforming itself into subjectivity, and then achieving a synthesis of both. Considered from the second standpoint, again
the Absolute passes through three phases. Nature as real objectification of the Absolute is brought into the ideal realm of
'representations' (in the human knowing mind); and the two realms are then seen to be interdependent and inseparable. The
Absolute for Schelling at this stage is thus a pure identity of subjectivity and objectivity [d].
Now, if he is to realize the unity of Nature he needs also a 'theoretical deduction' of bodies and forces force, or 'pure activity',
being the common ground of Nature and the Ego, and the manifestation of a process of infinite never ending self-activity. This is
a speculative not an empirical physics; and it exhibits the teleological pattern in natura naturata. He distinguishes a 'lower'
inorganic or mechanistic and a 'higher' organic level. But he rejects any attempt to 'reduce' the latter to the former. There is no
opposition between them, both being continuous aspects of Nature as a whole. However, Schelling supposes that for the objective
phenomenal world to emerge the infinite productive activity, organizing principle, or 'world-soul' (as act of the Absolute) has to be
constrained [gehemmt]. He identifies three stages or 'potencies' (Potenzen] of Nature [e]. The first potency arises when Nature (as
exhibited in repulsive forces) is controlled by a limiting (attractive) force material bodies possessing mass then arising through
the synthesis of the two forces. Through a further process of limitation the various magnetic, electrical, and chemical processes of
phenomenal nature are manifested as a result of the second potency. This 'universal mechanism' also assimilates at the higher
level the forces and synthesis of the first potency. The third potency occurs at the level of the organism and comes about as a
result of the synthesis of the first two potencies, whereby all the forces acting through matter are exhibited in the activities of
sensibility, irritability (that is, responsiveness to stimuli), and reproduction in various degrees of individual organisms man
being the highest and the point of transition between subjective representations and objective Nature.

[2. Transcendental Idealism see System of Transcendental Idealism.]

[2] [Transc. Idealism, Part I.] In Schelling's Philosophy of Nature we move from the Objective to the Subjective. His
Transcendental Idealism involves an attempt to move from the Subjective to the Objective. But he regards the two approaches as
complementary in that to account for knowledge as the uniting of subject and object we must first think of the two poles as
separate. He says it is the Ego, that is, "the act of self-consciousness in general", that constitutes knowledge of the identity of
subject and object. This is because as an 'intellectual intuition' it produces itself as the object of transcendental thought from
within itself as subject [a]. Starting from the certainty of the 'I think' (cogito) Schelling is therefore concerned primarily to trace
the development of consciousness from unconscious Nature as the practical act of the Absolute Ego; and he has in effect to show
that the external objective world is a necessary presupposition. Self-awareness requires awareness of other egos. In Part I he starts
by distinguishing three 'epochs'. Firstly, consciousness emerges from sensation and perception and rises to the level of 'productive
(creative) intuition'. (This process corresponds to the construction of matter in his Philosophy of Nature [see sec. 1].) The second
epoch is the transition from productive intuition to the level of reflection. The Ego as unlimited act unconsciously limits itself by
positing a non-Ego, characterized by sensible objects, distinct from the Ego, and structured by the imposed categories of space,
time, and causality. Lastly, the infinite Ego returns to itself through its self-determining will abstracting itself from the non-Ego.
This gives rise to individual human self-consciousness and intelligence as a free and active power [b]. Man's actions are
understood as being both free and necessary. Their freedom lies in their inner necessity in that actions stem from his self-positing
ego [c]. Man acts in a particular way because it is in his intelligible character to do so. [For his later account of freedom see sec.
6.]
[3. Identity Philosophy see especially Presentation of My System of Philosophy.]
[3] In his earlier writings Schelling had argued for the identity of Nature and Spirit the unity being attributable to the Absolute
as the explanation and ground. In later works [for example, Presentation and Lectures on the Method of Academic Study] he
placed more emphasis on the Absolute as the ultimate object of philosophical investigation and conceived it as the total
indifference of subjective and objective. At times he also thinks of the Absolute as the supreme 'Divine' Idea which contains
within itself ideas of all finite things [Bruno: a Discourse]. And he interprets the unity in various ways. It is not only the identity
of opposites (the subjective and the objective), but is also the identity of the multiplicity of opposites and the unity itself (an
'identity of the identity'); or it is the identity which obtains between the finite and the infinite [see sec. 6.] Individual things are
regarded by Schelling as possessing both real and ideal elements [a]. In phenomenal things the real is predominant, while in
spiritual phenomena the real elements are subordinate to the ideal. We have only limited knowledge of individual things (as
illusory particulars) through the imagination ('inadequate ideas'). They can, however, be grasped as ideal realities when
considered as existing in the Absolute and viewed sub specie aeternitatis. However, they then lose their individualities and
differences. Moreover, the Cartesian cogito is now understood as giving us no transparency; individual consciousness and
thinking belongs to the Absolute Identity (or God) [b]. But we do not have access to the Absolute itself; our knowledge is
confined to the relation between finite things and the Absolute. Although the Absolute is the ultimate object of philosophical
speculation, we can know it only as it appears to our empirical consciousness in the two series: the real objective 'potencies' of the
Philosophy of Nature and the ideal subjective 'epochs' of his Transcendental Idealism. We can, however, 'intuit' the Absolute by
thinking away all finite attributes or distinctions (the negative approach) [c].

ETHICS/ POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY

[4] [Transc. Idealism, Pt II.] The will as 'self-idealizing activity' (which is to be distinguished from 'natural impulse') attempts to
actualize in the objective world the ideal which belongs to the ego as subjective, thereby enabling the ego to realize itself as
intelligence. In the first stage will appears as 'drive' (Trieb). In the second stage this splits into 'natural drive' and moral law the
Categorical Imperative: you ought to will only that which other intelligences can will; and this must be pure self-determination.
For this to be achieved action in the world is required; and thereby conscious Spirit becomes objectified [a]. Finally, free will
appears which facilitates choice between drive and moral law. This in turn leads to Schelling's deduction of a rational State and a
system of rights which can provide the framework for the rule of law necessary for the achievement of individual freedom and
self-realization, and for moral action [b]. To avoid conflicts between states he proposes a federation which must both recognise
basic principles and agree to submit to fundamental law. Endless progress towards the ideal of the perfect political society which
exhibits universal moral order is implicit in human history. He thus regards this as a continual revelation of the Absolute [c].
While actions in the historical process are freely chosen, Schelling argues that at the same time there is a necessity in the process,
which leads to an absolute synthesis or reconciliation of human actions [d] even when they are seemingly willed for selfish ends,
in which case the necessity lies at the level of the unconscious.

AESTHETICS
[5] [gen 5] Philosophy of Art [Transcendental Idealism, Part III and Philosophy of Art] is significant for Schelling not only as a
field of study which is of interest in itself but also because he regards works of art as finite revelations of the infinite Absolute.
Art, he says, is grounded in the power of productive intuition directed towards a concrete manifestation [a] in the work of a
creative genius. When the artist creates he is both conscious that he is producing, say, a painting, but yet his creative power
originates from within his unconscious. The observer in turn contemplates the work of art and feels an 'infinite satisfaction' which
is an indication of the identity of the objective real and the subjective ideal, and of the unconscious and the conscious. Although it
is not actually known, this actual reality lying behind the sphere of knowledge as constituted by the one absolute 'act of self-
consciousness' is revealed to the individual ego through aesthetic intuition [b]. (This is to be contrasted with Will, and with
Hegelian 'Logic' and Reason as supposed sources of insight into the Real.)
As for his aesthetics as such, Schelling says particular things are beautiful in so far as they are in and accord with eternal ideas
which enter in and are intuited in them. Beauty is thus identical to truth, which is the conformity of the particular to the universal
idea [c]. Mediation between the universal and particular, and the production of concrete images, is effected through a symbolic
world of 'poetic existence', the source of which is mythology [d]. Schelling's aesthetics is thus teleological, the purpose of art
being to realize the finite through beauty thereby reconciling history and Nature, and the theoretical with the practical [e].
Moreover, in all the productive intelligent activity (unconscious but manifested in organisms) is conscious in the creating, though
unconscious in the created work.

PHILOSOPHY OF RELIGION
[6] [See especially Philosophy and Religion and Inquiries into the Nature of Human Freedom.] Schelling started out from a
broadly Platonic view, arguing that the Divine is reflected in the Eternal Idea, which in turn is manifested in the eternal ideas of
Nature the object of human consciousness through which God knows Himself. He then seems to have oscillated between a
pantheist and a transcendentalist account of God in relation to the world. His position might, however, be appropriately described
as panentheistic: the world is grounded and exists in God infinite, pure identity, indifferent to the distinction between the
subjective and the objective. He attributes personality to God as arising from Himself out of an impersonal primitive 'original
foundation' (Urgrund) or unconscious will to exist. God is conceived also as positing Himself simultaneously as rational
subjective will or love. (Indeed in his later work [Human Freedom] he seems to identify God as 'primal being' with pure Willing
eternal, independent, self-affirming) [a]. (These positings are non-temporal, not successive. Schelling thinks of them as
different 'potencies' or moments in God's activity.) This accounts for His manifestation in the world: constantly creating Himself
God 'expands' Himself into finitude, as a consequence of which the unity of the subjective and objective is split. To explain the
existence of finite things the transition from natura naturans to natura naturata Schelling introduces the idea of the Cosmic
Fall (Abfall): the world is a breaking away from God through a 'leap'. This is alienation from the Absolute. However, this creative
process, like the positing of unconscious will and rational will, is non-temporal and eternal [b], and through it we as created
beings see the world as finite and independent. God being identity of subject and object, His acts are both free and necessary:
indeed, they too are identical. Similar considerations apply to man. Freedom is an intrinsic characteristic of the conscious will.
But for freedom to be activated it must operate in the context of an 'opposition'. This is what he calls the unconscious 'dark'
principle. And yet these opposing principles must be in some sense identical [c]. While in God they are unified, in man they are
separate [see On the Nature of Human Freedom]. What then of the existence of evil, if God is the 'ground' of the finite world?
Schelling's solution seems to be that what from man's point of view is evil and real is from God's standpoint nothing. The
potentiality for evil exists in the 'dark' ground even of God: but it is man alone that it is manifested in consequence of his free will.
However, in the course of time through God's agency man's rational will will conquer his lower impulses [d].
Religion, is important in Schelling's scheme of things in so far as it affords a basis for what he calls 'positive philosophy' [see
especially Philosophy of Revelation and Philosophy of Mythology], which he developed in his final period. It is a philosophy not
based on conceptual thinking (ideas, logical deduction, which constitute 'negative philosophy') but one which involves faith in
God as a personal being as a result of commitment by the will and thence self-realization. Such a philosophy works through
history. And Schelling argues that successively in myth, revealed (Christian) religion, and thereby in his philosophy of religion
[e], God's inner 'potencies', the Fall, and the return will be made manifest.

CRITICAL SUMMARY
While Fichte started out from Kant's second Critique, Schelling in general looked to the Critique of Judgement. Critics differ as to
how his philosophy should be interpreted. (Interpretation is not helped by the frequent changes in his views throughout his
prolific career.) A widely held position is that he aimed to provide a comprehensive world-view, but no final system is achieved in
his writings. Rather his earlier thought can be represented as an ongoing developing process, each phase, however, perhaps
emphasizing different aspects of his overall vision, culminating in what he called his 'System of Absolute Identity'. This can be
seen as an attempt to show that his Philosophy of Nature and his system of Transcendental Idealism are complementary and
underlie his final but incomplete views concerning the relationship of the finite world to the infinite Absolute as pure identity of
subjective and objective. Arguably Schelling thus goes some way towards overcoming the dualism associated with both Kant and
Fichte, and in ways which have something in common with the approach developed by Hegel. Indeed he seems to have felt that
Hegel had illegitimately appropriated his own ideas. In his last period (from the 1820s onwards) he is severely critical of Hegel
for passing beyond his (Schelling's) position, and in particular, for attempting to deduce from within Reason itself (that is, thought
or the concept) its identification with the Real (or Being). Rather, according to Schelling, the identity of reality and rationality as
the Absolute is a presupposition of philosophical thought and cannot be fully grasped by reason, which must start from that which
is external to itself, namely, the realm of contingent reality, that is, being or nature.
His philosophy is of interest for a number of reasons. (1) In his 'dialectic' of knowledge he moves from sensation to perception,
self-awareness in reflection, to the will. (2) He emphasizes art (a) as the means by which the activity of the organic self is
rendered conscious, and (b) as making possible the revelation of the infinite in the finite. (3) He points to man's self-realization
through myth and religion. Some commentators have seen as implicit in this an anticipation of existentialism. (4) In line with his
developing thought Schelling offers a number of different accounts of God as will, a personal being, perfection, the original
ground of being and yet also non-being itself. However, this fourth phase of his work was criticized by Hegel for what he saw as
its irrationalism and mysticism. We might also argue that his treatment of the problems of human freedom, and of God and evil
are open to the charge of obscurity; and it is questionable whether he has resolved them satisfactorily. More generally (and
especially from a Hegelian standpoint) it can be said that as Fichte's philosophy is one-sided in its ethical basis so is Schelling's in
the primacy he accords to aesthetics. But, as against Fichte, he does restore 'objectivity' to Nature. However, for many
philosophers the most serious objection is one that his system shares with all three German Idealists: it postulates both that reality
is independent of mind and yet that each is determined by the other. Indeed, it would seem that the process of self-knowing is the
only 'reality'.

SCHOPENHAUER (1788 1860)

VOLUNTARISM
Arthur Schopenhauer was born in Danzig. His father was a wealthy businessman, his mother a novelist. He was educated
privately and at schools in several countries before entering Gttingen University to study science and medicine. Becoming
interested in philosophy he transferred to Berlin University and attended the lectures of Fichte and Schleiermacher (though he did
not think much of them). The publication of his main work in 1819 secured him a lectureship at Berlin. Having unsuccessfully
attacked Hegel's ideas he retired into seclusion to continue his research and writing (and was fortunate not to be short of money).
Of a neurotic disposition and fond of the good things of life (wine, women, and song) he was entertaining and witty when in the
company of people he could get on with. By the time he died his philosophy had started to attract scholarly interest.

METAPHYSICS
[1] In his doctoral dissertation, On the Fourfold Root of the Principle of Sufficient Reason, Schopenhauer sets out an analysis of
the phenomenal world, that is, the world of our ideas (Vorstellungen), or things which are 'presented' to our 'subjective' minds. He
distinguishes four classes of presentations and four ways in which they are connected with other objects, namely becoming,
knowing, being, and action. And our knowledge of each class, he says, is governed by a corresponding form of the Principle of
Sufficient Reason which determines relations between phenomena (but does not apply to the phenomenal world as a whole or
to any reality which might be supposed to lie outside phenomena).
(1) Empirical presentations comprising form and matter, namely physical objects. Schopenhauer sees the 'matter' of such
presentations (sensations) as being organized by the activity of the mind through a priori forms of sensibility (intuition) of space
and time, and related by the one pure form (or 'category') of the understanding causality. Our knowledge of such presentations
is explained by the principle of sufficient reason of becoming.
(2) Abstract concepts. These are related in judgements, and that the relevant principle of sufficient reason is that of knowing. If a
judgement is grounded in another (as its sufficient reason), it is said to be true and can only then provide knowledge.
(3) A priori forms of intuition (space and time). The principle of sufficient reason of being determines how each part of space or
time relates to another. In space the law is of relations in position (and is the basis of geometry), while time is governed by the law
of irreversible succession (and is the basis of arithmetic).
(4) The subject which has the presentations, namely, the self. In this case the principle of sufficient reason is action; for
Schopenhauer sees the self as the agent who brings about consequences as a result of motivation [a].
This analysis constitutes an introduction to his major work, The World as Will and Idea, the central assumption of which is that
"the world is my idea". By this Schopenhauer means that the phenomenal world consists of one's intuitive presentations, spatially
and temporally structured and causally related as a consequence of respectively the forms of intuition and the form of
understanding [Vol. I, Bk 1]. Unlike animals man can reflect about this world through abstract concepts and can intuit directly the
forms organizing our experience. For Schopenhauer the phenomenal world is made up not only of the structured appearances of
matter but also of the perceiving subject itself [b]. Matter and intelligence, he says, are "inseparable correlates". Does the
phenomenal world therefore exhaust reality? Schopenhauer says it does not. Underlying appearance (which he compares to the
'veil of Maya' or illusion in the Indian Upanishadic philosophy) is the noumenal realm or realm of things-in-themselves. Now
while Kant had said that this realm is intrinsically unknowable, Schopenhauer identified it with a single Will devoid of all
multiplicity. (He dismissed the kinds of rationalist and idealist 'transcendent' metaphysical speculation that would have been
rejected by Kant) [Vol. I, Bk 2] [c]. He comes to this view through an examination of action. By looking within ourselves we find
that the action of our bodies is nothing other than volition which has become 'objectified' as presentation. Each individual is a
manifestation or aspect of the one Will, which Schopenhauer goes on to say is found also throughout Nature as forces, desires,
impulses and instincts whether in inorganic or organic beings [d]. It is, he says, "eternal striving" and also "the will to live"
[Vol. I, Bk 4].

KNOWLEDGE
[2] [See especially Vols II, chs 1-4] Knowledge for Schopenhauer is limited to presentations, intuitions, abstract concepts, and to
the self as the subject of volition [a]. We can know nothing of what lies beyond phenomena except through its objectification in
the phenomenal world and our own individual wills. And indeed he regards the function of knowledge as primarily practical. The
value of concepts lies in the use that can be made of them to order the data of perception, and to communicate particularly ethical
principles. Perception itself is important in that it enables both man and other animals to provide for their immediate physical and
sociological needs food, shelter, and so on; while in the case of man, reason helps him to discover more sophisticated
techniques, such as tool-making and building. Reason or intellect, however, is in the last analysis the servant of the will [b].
Nevertheless, despite the restrictions Schopenhauer places on reason, he admits what he calls intuition at the level of perceptual
knowledge; this enables us to transcend practical considerations and achieve insight into the noumenal realm as manifested in
organized Nature. Knowledge of any attributes the Will may possess in itself, however, is a matter for mystical experience;
philosophy can have nothing to say about them [c]. This leads him on to his theory of aesthetics and ethics.

AESTHETICS/ ETHICS
[3] [See especially Vol. III, chs 34-39.] Schopenhauer's philosophy is broadly pessimistic. He sees all beings as engaged in a
constant battle with each other and the world in general. This is because all things are manifestations of an irrational will to live
[III, ch. 28] and are thus engaged in incessant striving for a 'satisfaction' which can never be achieved. This desire, Schopenhauer
says, is pain or evil, happiness being relief from this pain [a]. However, it is possible to escape from this life of misery through art
and by means of asceticism. He holds the view that the will objectifies itself through Platonic Ideas before it is manifested in
individual things [I, Bk 3] [b]. He thinks of the Ideas as original species or forms, of which individual things are "empirical
correlates", and as the universal forces revealed in the natural laws by which things are governed. Now, reason, once it has
enabled man to satisfy his physical needs, can be released from this practical role and can lead to "will-less" contemplation of
beauty (as Idea presented in perception), or of the sublime [c] (as when the Will, objectified in the form of the human body, is
apprehended as a threat by virtue of its power of greatness). Man can free himself from the Will's enslavement by intuiting this
directly, non-conceptually and objectively through art. The 'poetical arts', offer different degrees of objective contemplation of
lower grade Ideas. Tragedy is the highest form [I, Bk III, 51]; and Schopenhauer understands this as depicting a battle with will,
manifesting itself as fate (chance, error), and in self-destructive human action. In consequence the actors are 'purified', surrender
to fate, and lose the will to live. There is, he says, no 'poetic justice' or reconciliation in tragedy. But it is music [III, ch. 3] which
he sees as the highest of the arts because it alone exhibits the inner nature of the thing-in-itself, namely, the Will [d]. Nevertheless,
aesthetic contemplation provides only a temporary respite. To achieve permanent release the will within us, the "wild beast", must
be opposed.
[III, chs 40-9.] Given this somewhat negative conclusion, there seems to be little room for a meaningful ethic. However,
Schopenhauer allows for the possibility that the individual intellect may come to 'penetrate' or see through the 'veil of Maya' (that
is, grasp its illusory nature) in a series of stages, each stage representing a higher level of moral progress [e]. Thus the individual
may come to recognise other beings as in the same situation as himself and therefore do them no harm. This is the just man who
overcomes egoism. He may then see the totality of beings as appearances of the one undivided Will and thus reach the level of
sympathy or love (agape as against eros which is self-centred). However, Schopenhauer rejects any such notion as ultimate
perfectibility of man or society. Finally, the highest level is attained through self-denial, asceticism: the Will itself is denied and
'abolished' [f]. Suicide is not an option of suicide, because this would be to give in to the Will. Nevertheless, it would seem that in
death all is extinguished, and that there can be no personal immortality [g], the individual being but appearance. "Before us there
is indeed only nothingness", he says. The function of philosophy is now seen to be to promote contemplation and renunciation.
Intuition has to be lifted up to the level of conceptual reasoning so as to give us the requisite insight. His metaphysics is thus
ultimately subordinated to man's existential and ethical needs [h].

CRITICAL SUMMARY
Perhaps the most significant feature of Schopenhauer's thought is his postulation of the primacy of the will (practical knowledge)
as the basis for his world-view. As a corollary he emphasizes aesthetics the contemplation of Platonic Ideas in works of art
as an activity of non-willing; and it is this which underpins his ethic of resignation. Also of special interest is his view of
appearance as akin to the 'Veil of Maya' (illusion) of the Indian Upanishads. As might be expected there are a number of
difficulties with his system.
(1) The individual disappears into the one Will, in that conceptualization can supply only universals, while awareness of will in
striving is only 'immediate' knowledge, devoid of individual content.

(2) This leads to the problem of how the individual will might be supposed to be free in the universal Will. Schopenhauer says
that we have limited freedom in so far as there is absence of constraint on us in the phenomenal world.
(3) The Platonic Ideas neither belong to the phenomenal world nor are they intuitions of or by the will; their introduction would
therefore seem to be inconsistent with his main thesis. Furthermore, whether such Ideas are the objects of contemplation in works
of art is debatable within the context of aesthetics itself.
(4) It is questionable whether Schopenhauer deals satisfactorily with the paradox of an individual will (for which striving is a
necessary activity) which can renounce and obtain release through asceticism, if even what happens to us is a consequence of the
universal Will.
But despite Schopenhauer's seemingly pessimistic conclusions, his 'voluntarism' has been influential in aesthetics and in
psychology. His emphasis on action and agency have also be thought by some philosophers to offer a more fruitful approach to
problems in the philosophy of mind than current materialist or neurobiologically based theories.
COMTE (1798 1857)
POSITIVISM/ HISTORICISM
Auguste Comte was born in Montpellier. His father was a staunch Royalist and Roman Catholic. He was educated at the local
lyce (during which time he renounced his faith and also became a Republican) and at the cole Polytechnique, where he studied
science, politics, economics, and history. In 1818 he came under the influence of Saint-Simon, having been appointed his
secretary, but broke off the relationship in 1824. He spent his life thereafter tutoring, lecturing, and writing, but never had a
university post. After the publication of the final volume of his major work he became friendly with J. S. Mill, who also helped
him financially.

EPISTEMOLOGY/ SOCIAL PHILOSOPHY

[1] Comte's "positive philosophy" [see Course of Positive Philosophy] is essentially an anti-metaphysical philosophy of "popular
good sense" (common sense). Central to this is the claim that human history progresses through three stages of development [a]
(which he compares fancifully to the three stages of an individual's life infancy, youth, and maturity). These are, however,
general tendencies; he recognises the need for some flexibility in his classification, in the light of actual facts.
(1) The theological stage. This is the period when early man, after an animistic or 'fetishist' stage, sought to find ultimate causes of
phenomena in the decisions or wills of superhuman beings (later of only one such being).
(2) The metaphysical stage. In this stage man no longer thinks in terms of a supernatural personal God but of an 'abstraction', such
as all-embracing Nature, and looks to such notions as ether, vital principles, forces to explain phenomena.
(3) The positive stage. Explanation in the final stage is supposed to be found by bringing facts of experience under general
descriptive laws. These are arrived through a process of testing by direct observation verification shows the hypotheses to be
genuine. Such laws will then enable man to predict and control nature. At a higher level philosophy seeks to achieve a synthesis
of all the sciences [b]. Positive knowledge, though certain, is only relative in that it is of the world as appearance. It is also
confined to the phenomena; we can know nothing of any ultimate causes or metaphysical principles [c]. Comte's three stages are
thus represented as a sequence of progressively more mature or sophisticated kinds of explanation of phenomena.
Corresponding to each of the three periods are also, Comte says, three kinds of social organizations (though again he allows for a
degree of flexibility in the application of his classification).
(1) In the Ancient world and the Middle Ages we find an acceptance of an absolute authority, divine right of kings, or militarism.
The ethos of such societies might be said to be conquest.
(2) The Enlightenment era is characterized by belief in abstract rights, popular sovereignty, the rule of law. The emphasis is on
defence.
(3) The modern period is that of the industrial society, in which the emphasis is on a centralized economy organized by a
'scientific' elite. The key word is now labour [d].
[2] If this third (and for Comte final) type of society is to be developed so as to ensure its mutually peaceful qualities are
exhibited, a new science of man will be required. This is sociology. [See further System of Positive Philosophy.] It is needed to
formulate the basic laws which underlie human society, a knowledge of which will enable man to reorganize society so that it will
satisfy his needs and enable him to maximize his progress [a]. Although all sciences are alike in that they organize phenomena
under general laws, each individual science has its own particular set of phenomena and characteristic procedures [b] (though
there is some overlap) which lead to their perfection within the general context of scientific methodology. These can be placed in
a kind of hierarchy of development, starting with the simplest and most general and ending with the most complex and least
abstract. Thus we have mathematics, astronomy, physics, chemistry, physiology, biology, and social physics, that is, sociology (to
which Comte later added ethics as 'social psychology' in the sense of the study of man's social behaviour: he did not, however,
find a place for psychology as such largely on account of his rejection of the possibility of introspection). A higher science may
make use of mathematics to achieve great precision, but he will not allow that, say, biology can be assimilated to a deductive
science in the way physics is. Comte regards sociology as the ultimate synthesizing science. He says this is achieved by reference
to the idea of humanity and human needs; sociology determines each science's contribution in this respect [c]. He also