every act of hate a “displeasing,” was very near to Descartes when
he wrote his valuable little work on _The Affections_. In the second
book, _Des Passions_, ii. art. 139, he says: “Lorsque les choses
qu’elles (l’amour et la haine) nous portent à aimer sont véritablement
bonnes, et celles qu’elles nous portent à haïr, sont véritablement
mauvaises, l’amour est incomparablement meilleure que la haine; elle
ne saurait être trop grande et elle ne manque jamais de produire la
joie”; and this agrees with what he says a little later: “La haine, au
contraire ne saurait être si petite qu’elle ne nuise, et elle n’est
jamais sans tristesse.”
In ordinary life, however, the expressions “joy” and “sadness,”
“pleasure” and “pain” are only used when the pleasure and displeasure
have attained a certain degree of liveliness. A sharp boundary in
this unscientific division there is not; we may, however, be allowed
to make use of it as it stands. It is enough that the expressions,
“pleasure” and “displeasure” are not narrowed down by any such limit.
[25] (_p. 16_). The expressions “true” and “false” are employed in a
manifold sense; in one sense we employ them in speaking of true and
false judgments; again (somewhat modifying the meaning), of objects,
as when we say, “a true friend,” “false money.” I need scarcely
observe that where I use the expressions “true” and “false” in this
lecture, I associate therewith not the first and proper meaning, but
rather a metaphorical one having reference to objects. True, is,
therefore, what is; false, what is not. Just as Aristotle spoke of “ὂν
ὡς ἀληθές” so we might also say, “ἀληθές ὡς ὂν.”
Of truth in its proper sense it has often been said that it is
the agreement of the judgment with the object (adequatio rei et
intellectus, as the scholastics said). This expression, true in a
certain sense, is yet in the highest degree open to misunderstanding,
and has led to serious errors. The agreement is regarded as a kind of
identity between something contained in the judgment, or in the idea
lying at the root of the judgment and something situated without
the mind. But this cannot be the meaning here; “to agree” means here
rather as much as “to be appropriate,” “to be in harmony with,”
“suit,” “correspond.” It is as though in the sphere of feeling one
should say, the rightness of love and hate consists in the agreement
of the feelings with the object. Properly understood this also would
be unquestionably right; whoever loves and hates rightly, has his
feelings adequately related to the object, i.e. the relation is
appropriate, suitable, corresponds suitably, whereas it would be
manifestly absurd were one to believe that in a rightly directed love
or hate there was found to be an identity between these feelings or
the ideas lying at their root on the one hand, and something lying
outside the feelings on the other, an identity which is absent where
the attitude of the feelings is unrightly directed. Among other
circumstances this misunderstanding has also conduced towards bringing
the doctrine of judgment into that sad confusion from which to-day
psychology and logic seek with such painful efforts to set themselves
free.
The conceptions of existence and non-existence are the correlates
of the conceptions of the truth of the (simple) affirmative and
negative judgments. Just as to judgment belongs what is judged, to
the affirmative judgment what is judged of affirmatively, to the
negative judgment, what is judged of negatively, so to the rightness
of the affirmative judgment belongs the existence of what is judged
of affirmatively, to the rightness of the negative judgment the
non-existence of what is judged of negatively; and whether I say an
affirmative judgment is true, or, its object is existent; whether I
say a negative judgment is true, or its object is non-existent; in
both cases I am saying one and the same thing. In the same way, it is
essentially one and the same logical principle whether I say, in each
case either the (simple) affirmative or negative judgment is true, or,
each is either existent or non-existent.
Thus, for example, the assertion of the truth of the judgment, “a man
is learned,” is the correlate of the assertion of the existence of
the object, “a learned man”; and the assertion of the truth of the
judgment, “no stone is alive,” is the correlate of the assertion of
the non-existence of its object, “a living stone.” The correlative
assertions are here, as everywhere, inseparable. The case is exactly
the same as in the assertions A > B and that B < A; that A is the
cause of B, and that B is produced by A.
[26] (_p. 16_). The notion of the good, in and for itself, is
accordingly a unity in the strict sense, and not, as Aristotle teaches
(in consequence of a confusion which we shall have to speak of later)
a unity in a merely analogous sense. German philosophers also have
failed to grasp the unity of the conception. This is the case with
Kant, and, quite recently, with Windelband. There is a defect in our
ordinary way of speaking which may prove very misleading to Germans
inasmuch as for the opposite of the term “good” there is no common
expression current, but this is designated now as “schlimm,” now
as “übel,” now as “böse,” now as “arg,” now as “abscheulich,” now
as “schlecht,” etc. It might very well, as in similar cases, come
to be thought that not only the common name is wanting, but also
the common notion. And if the notion is wanting on the one side of
the antithesis, it would also be wanting on the other, and so the
expression “good” would seem an equivocal term.
Of all the expressions quoted, it seems to me (and philologists
also, whose advice I have asked, are of the same opinion), that the
expression “schlecht,” like the Latin “malum,” is most applicable as
the opposite of the good in its full universality, and in this way I
shall allow myself to use this expression in what follows.
The fact that I adhere to the view of a certain common character
regarding the intentional relation of love and hate does not debar my
recognizing along with this view, special forms for particular cases.
If, therefore, “bad” is a truly universal simple class conception,
there may yet be distinguished special classes within its domain of
which one may be suitably termed “böse,” another “übel,” etc.
[27] (_p. 18_). The distinction between “self-evident” and “blind”
judgments is something too striking to have altogether escaped notice.
Even the sceptical Hume is very far from denying the distinction.
_Self-evidence_, according to him (_Enq. concerning Hum. Underst._
iv.) may be ascribed, on the one hand, to analytic judgments (to which
class belong also the axioms of mathematics and the mathematical
demonstrations), and, on the other hand, to certain impressions, but
not to the so-called truths of experience. Reason does not lead us
here, but rather habit, after a manner entirely irrational; belief, in
this case is _instinctive_ and _mechanical_ (_ib._ v.).
But to observe a fact does not mean to set forth its nature clearly
and distinctly. As the nature of the judgment has, until recent times,
been almost universally misunderstood, how could it be possible
rightly to understand its self-evidence? It is just here that even
Descartes’ discernment fails him. How very closely the phenomenon
occupied him a passage in the Meditations bears witness: “Cum hic dico
me ita doctum esse a natura (he is speaking of the so-called external
impressions) intelligo tantum _spontaneo quodam impetu_ me ferri ad
hoc credendum _non lumine aliquo naturali_ mihi ostendi esse verum,
quae duo multum discrepant. Nam quaecunque _lumine naturali_ mihi
ostenduntur (ut quod ex eo quo dubitem sequatur me esse et similia)
nullo modo dubia esse possunt quia nulla alia facultas esse potest,
cui aeque fidam ac lumini isti, quaeque illa non vera esse possit
docere; sed quantum ad impetus naturales jam saepe olim judicavi me
ab illis in deteriorem partem fuisse impulsum cum de bono eligendo
ageretur, nec video cur iisdem in ulla alia re magis fidam.”--(Medit.
iii.).
That Descartes did not mark the fact of self-evidence, that he did not
observe the distinction between intuition and blind judgment certainly
cannot be affirmed from the above. But, while separating the judgment
as a class from the idea, he still leaves behind in the class of ideas
the character of self-evidence which distinguishes the judgments of
intuition. It consists, according to him, in a special mark of the
perception, that is, of the idea lying at the root of the judgment.
Descartes even goes so far as actually to call this act of perception
a “cognoscere,” a “knowing.” A “knowing,” that is, and still not an
act of judgment! These are rudimentary organs which after the progress
made, owing to Descartes, in the doctrine of judgment, remind us of
a stage of life in Psychology which has been surmounted; but with
this distinction, in opposition to similar phenomena in the history of
the development of the species, that these organs, in no way adapted,
become in the highest degree troublesome, and render all Descartes’
further efforts for the theory of knowledge ineffective. He remains,
to use Leibnitz’ phrase, “in the antechamber of truth” (cf. here
note 28, towards the end). Only in this way does Descartes’ clara et
distincta perceptio--concerning which term itself it is so difficult
to gain a clear and distinct idea--in its curious dual nature become
perfectly intelligible. The only means of overcoming this confusion
is to seek that which distinguishes insight in opposition to other
judgments as an inner quality belonging to the act of insight itself.
It is true that some who have sought here have yet failed to find. We
saw (cf. note 23) how Sigwart conceives the nature of the judgment. To
this, he teaches, there belongs a relation of ideas to one another,
and along with this a feeling of obligation respecting this connexion.
(Cf. sections 14 and 31, espec. 4 and 5.) Such a feeling therefore,
always exists even in the case of the blindest prejudice. It is then
abnormal, but is held (as Sigwart expressly explains) to be normal and
of universal validity. And what now in contrast to this case, is given
in the case of insight? Sigwart replies that its evidence consists
in the same feeling (cf. e.g. section 3) which now, however, is not
merely held to be normal and universally valid, but is really normal
and universally valid.
It seems to me that the weakness of this theory is at once apparent;
and it is on many grounds to be rejected.
1. The peculiar nature of insight, the clearness and evidence of
certain judgments from which their truth is inseparable has little
or nothing to do with any feeling of compulsion. It may well happen
that at a given moment I cannot refrain from so judging, yet none the
less the essence of its clearness does not consist in the feeling of
compulsion, and no consciousness of an obligation so to judge could,
as such, afford security as to its truth. He who disbelieves in every
form of indeterminism in respect of judging, regards all judgments
under the circumstances in which they were passed as necessary, but he
does not--and with indisputable right--regard all of them as on that
account true.
2. Sigwart, in seeking the consciousness of insight in a feeling
of necessity so to think, asserts that the consciousness of one’s
being compelled is, at the same time, a consciousness of a necessity
for all thinking beings whenever the same grounds are present. If
he means, however, that the one conviction is doubtless connected
with the other, this is an error. Why, when a person feels bound to
pass a judgment upon certain data, should the same compulsion hold
good in respect of every other thinking being to whom the same data
are also given? It is obvious that only an appeal to the law of
causality which, under like conditions demands like results, could
be the ground of the logical connexion. Its application, however,
to the present case would be entirely erroneous, since this would
involve the ignoring of the special psychical dispositions, which,
although they do not directly enter into consciousness at all, must
yet be regarded, along with the conscious data, as pre-determining
conditions, and these are very different in the case of different
persons. Hegel and his school, misled by paralogisms, have denied the
principle of contradiction; Trendelenburg, who opposed Hegel, has at
least restricted its validity (cf. his _Abhandlungen über Herbarts
Metaphysik_). The universal impossibility of inwardly denying the
principle which Aristotle asserted cannot therefore, to-day, be any
longer defended; Aristotle himself, however, for whom the principle
was self-evident, assuredly found its denial impossible.
Whatever is evident to any one is of course certain not only for him,
but also for every one else who, in the same way, sees its evidence.
The judgment, moreover, which is seen to be evident by any one has
also universal validity, i.e. the contradictory of what is seen to be
evident by one person, cannot be seen to be evident by another person,
and every one who believes in its contradictory is in error. Further,
since what is here said belongs to the essence of truth, whoever has
evidence of the truth of anything may perceive that he is justified
in regarding it as true for all. But he would be guilty of a flagrant
confusion of ideas who should regard such a consciousness that a
truth is true for all, as equivalent to a consciousness of a universal
necessity of thinking.
3. Sigwart involves himself in a multitude of contradictions. He
asserts and must assert--if he is not to yield to the sceptics and
relinquish his entire logical system--that evident judgments are
not merely different from non-evident judgments, but that they are
also distinguishable in consciousness. The one class must therefore
appear as normal and of universal validity, the other class as
not so. But if evident and non-evident judgments alike carry with
them the consciousness of universal validity, then the two classes
would at first sight exactly agree in the manner in which they
present themselves, and only as it were, afterwards (or at the same
time, though as a mere concomitant), and by reflection upon some
sort of criterion which is applied to them as a standard could the
distinction be discovered. And passages are actually to be found in
Sigwart where he speaks of a consciousness of agreement with the
universal rules which accompany the fully evident judgment. (Cf.
e.g. _Logic_, 2nd ed., 39, p. 311.) But apart from the fact that
this contradicts experience--for long before the discovery of the
syllogism, conclusions were reached syllogistically and with complete
evidence--it is also to be rejected inasmuch as, seeing that the rule
itself must be assured, it would lead either to an infinite regress,
or to a _circulus vitiosus_.
4. Another contradiction with which I have to charge Sigwart (though
in my opinion it might have been avoided even after his erroneous
view as to the nature of the judgment and as to the nature of
self-evidence), we meet with in his doctrine of self-consciousness.
The knowledge that I am contains _only_ self-evidence, and this exists
independent of any consciousness of an obligation so to think and of
a necessity which is common to all alike. (At least I am not able
otherwise to understand the passage, _Logic_, 2nd ed., p. 310: “The
certainty that I am and think is the absolutely last and fundamental
one--the condition of all thinking and certainty at all; here, only
immediate evidence can be given; one cannot even say that this thought
is necessary, since it is previous to all necessity, and just as
immediate and evident is the conscious certainty that I think this
or that; it is inextricably interwoven with my self-consciousness;
the one is given with the other.”) After Sigwart’s doctrine already
examined, this would appear to be a _contradictio in adjecto_ and, as
such, quite indefensible.
5. Further contradictions appear in Sigwart’s very peculiar and
doubtful doctrine concerning the postulates, which he opposes to the
axioms. The latter are to be regarded as certain on the ground of
their real intellectual necessity; the former, not on the ground of
purely intellectual motives, but on psychological motives of another
kind, on the ground of practical needs. (_Logic_, 2nd ed. p. 412 seq.)
The law of causality: e.g. is, according to him, not an axiom, but a
mere postulate; we regard it as certain, since we find that without
affirming it we should not be able to investigate nature. Sigwart,
by this mode of accepting the law of causality, that is, affirming,
out of mere good-will, that in nature under like conditions, the same
results would constantly be forthcoming, manifestly takes it for
granted without being conscious of its intellectual necessity. But, if
all “taking-as-true” (Fürwahrhalten) is an act of judgment, this is
quite incompatible with his views as to the nature of the judgment.
Sigwart has here, as far as I can see, but one way of escape, i.e. to
confess that he does not believe in what, as a postulate, he accepts
as certain (as e.g. the law of causality); then, however, he will be
hardly serious in hoping for it.
6. This point becomes still more doubtful on reflection upon what
(2) has been previously discussed. The consciousness of a universal
necessity of thought does not, according to Sigwart, belong to the
postulates, but rather to the axioms. (Cf. 5.) But Sigwart could only
with any plausibility exhibit the consciousness of this universal
necessity of thinking as operating in the consciousness of one’s
personal necessity of thinking by making use of the universal law
of causation. But this causal law is itself merely a postulate; it
is destitute of self-evidence. It is therefore obvious that the
universal thought-necessity in the case of the axioms is also a
postulate, and consequently they lose what, according to Sigwart, is
their most essential distinction from the postulates. It may perhaps
be in accordance with this that Sigwart calls the belief in the
trustworthiness of “self-evidence” a postulate. But how the statement
so interpreted, can be brought into harmony with the remaining parts
of his doctrine I am at a loss to conceive.
7. Sigwart denies (31) the distinction between assertorical and
apodictic judgments, since in every judgment the sense of necessity
in respect of its function is essential. Consequently this assertion
likewise hangs together with his erroneous fundamental view of
the judgment; he would appear to identify the feeling which he
sometimes calls the feeling of evidence with the apodictic character
of a judgment. But it would be quite unjustifiable to overlook the
modal peculiarity of certain judgments, as for example, the law of
contradiction in distinction from other forms of judgment like that of
the consciousness that I am. In the first instance, we have to do with
what is “necessarily true or false,” in the second instance only with
what is “true or false as a matter of fact,” though both are in the
same sense evident and do not differ in respect of their certainty.
Only in the case of judgments like the former, not, however, from such
as the latter do we draw the notions of impossibility and necessity.
That Sigwart, in opposing the view which regards the apodictic
judgment as a special class, also occasionally bears witness against
himself is clear from what has been already said (4). The knowledge
that I am, he calls, in opposition to the knowledge of an axiom, the
knowledge of a simple actual truth (p. 312). Here he speaks more
soundly than his general statements would really allow.
Sigwart’s theory of self-evidence is, therefore, essentially false.
As in the case of Descartes, so here it cannot be said that Sigwart
was not conscious of the phenomenon; indeed, we must rather say in
his praise, that with the greatest zeal he has sought to analyze it,
but as is the case with many in psychological analysis, it would seem
that in the eagerness of analyzing he did not stop at the right point,
and has sought to resolve into one another phenomena very distinct in
nature.
It is obvious that an error respecting the nature of evidence is
fraught with the gravest consequence for the logician. It might well
be said that we have here touched upon the deep-seated organic disease
in Sigwart’s logic, if this may not rather be said to consist in a
misunderstanding of the nature of the judgment in general. Again and
again its evil results become manifest, as for example, in Sigwart’s
inability to understand the most essential causes of our errors, Cf.
_Logic_, vol. i. 2nd ed. p. 103, note, where, with strange partiality
he assigns the chief blame to the defective development of our
language.
For the rest, many another celebrated logician in recent times can
claim no superiority over Sigwart here. As a further example we need
only observe how the doctrine of evidence fares at the hands of the
admirable J. S. Mill. Cf. note 69, p. 99.
Owing to the great unclearness as to the nature of evidence, almost
universal, it becomes conceivable why, as often happens, we meet
with the expression “more or less self-evident.” Even Descartes and
Pascal use such expressions, although it is clearly quite unsuitable.
Whatever is self-evident is certain, and certainty in the real sense
knows no distinctions of degree. Even quite recently we find the
opinion expressed in the _Vierteljahrsschrift für wissenschaftliche
Philosophie_ (and the writer is manifestly quite serious), that
there exist _self-evident suppositions_ which, in spite of their
self-evidence, may quite well be false. It is unnecessary to add that
I hold this to be opposed to reason. I may here, however, express
regret that lectures delivered by me at a time when I still regarded
degrees of conviction as intensities of judgment, seem to have given
an occasion for such confusions.
[28] (_p. 19_). Cf. Hume’s Essay, already cited: _An Enquiry
concerning the Principles of Morals._ Other philosophers, who have
placed the foundation of ethics in the feelings, as e.g. Beneke and
Uberweg (who follows him) have seen further than Hume here. (Cf. the
presentation of Beneke’s ethics in his _Grundriss der Geschichte der
Philosophie_, iii.) Herbart comes still nearer to the truth when he
speaks of self-evident judgments of taste (these, however, are really
not judgments at all, but feelings, and as such are not self-evident,
but can only be said to have something analogous to self-evident
judgments) and when he further opposes to the merely pleasurable
the beautiful, ascribing to the latter as distinct from the former,
universal validity and undeniable worth. Unfortunately, there is
always something false mixed up with his view, and Herbart loses at
once and for ever the right path, so that his ethics in its course
diverges much further from the truth than the doctrine of Hume.