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The Critique of Pure Reason
By Immanuel Kant
Translated by J. M. D. Meiklejohn
Contents
Preface to the First Edition (1781)
Preface to the Second Edition (1787)
Introduction
I. Of the difference between Pure and Empirical Knowledge
II. The Human Intellect, even in an Unphilosophical State, is in
Possession of Certain Cognitions “à priori”.
III. Philosophy stands in need of a Science which shall Determine the
Possibility, Principles, and Extent of Human Knowledge “à priori”
IV. Of the Difference Between Analytical and Synthetical Judgements.
V. In all Theoretical Sciences of Reason, Synthetical Judgements “à
priori” are contained as Principles.
VI. The Universal Problem of Pure Reason.
VII. Idea and Division of a Particular Science, under the Name of a
Critique of Pure Reason.
I. Transcendental Doctrine of Elements
First Part—TRANSCENDENTAL ÆSTHETIC
§ 1. Introductory
SECTION I. OF SPACE
§ 2. Metaphysical Exposition of this Conception.
§ 3. Transcendental Exposition of the Conception of Space.
§ 4. Conclusions from the foregoing Conceptions.
SECTION II. OF TIME
§ 5. Metaphysical Exposition of this Conception.
§ 6. Transcendental Exposition of the Conception of Time.
§ 7. Conclusions from the above Conceptions.
§ 8. Elucidation.
§ 9. General Remarks on Transcendental Æsthetic.
§ 10. Conclusion of the Transcendental Æsthetic.
Second Part—TRANSCENDENTAL LOGIC
Introduction. Idea of a Transcendental Logic
I. Of Logic in General
II. Of Transcendental Logic
III. Of the Division of General Logic into Analytic and Dialectic
IV. Of the Division of Transcendental Logic into Transcendental
Analytic and Dialectic
FIRST DIVISION—TRANSCENDENTAL ANALYTIC
BOOK I. Analytic of Conceptions. § 2
Chapter I. Of the Transcendental Clue to the Discovery of all Pure
Conceptions of the Understanding
Introductory § 3
Section I. Of the Logical Use of the Understanding in General. § 4
Section II. Of the Logical Function of the Understanding in
Judgements. § 5
Section III. Of the Pure Conceptions of the Understanding, or
Categories. § 6
Chapter II. Of the Deduction of the Pure Conception of the
Understanding
Section I. Of the Principles of a Transcendental Deduction in general
§ 9
Transition to the Transcendental Deduction of the Categories. § 10
Section II Transcendental Deduction of the pure Conceptions of the
Understanding.
Of the Possibility of a Conjunction of the manifold representations
given by Sense. § 11.
Of the Originally Synthetical Unity of Apperception. § 12
The Principle of the Synthetical Unity of Apperception is the highest
Principle of all exercise of the Understanding. § 13
What Objective Unity of Self-consciousness is. § 14
The Logical Form of all Judgements consists in the Objective Unity of
Apperception of the Conceptions contained therein. § 15
All Sensuous Intuitions are subject to the Categories, as Conditions
under which alone the manifold Content of them can be united in one
Consciousness. § 16
Observation. § 17
In Cognition, its Application to Objects of Experience is the only
legitimate use of the Category. § 18
Of the Application of the Categories to Objects of the Senses in
general. § 20
Transcendental Deduction of the universally possible employment in
experience of the Pure Conceptions of the Understanding. § 22
Result of this Deduction of the Conceptions of the Understanding. § 23
BOOK II. Analytic of Principles
INTRODUCTION. Of the Transcendental Faculty of judgement in General.
TRANSCENDENTAL DOCTRINE OF THE FACULTY OF JUDGEMENT OR, ANALYTIC OF
PRINCIPLES.
Chapter I. Of the Schematism at of the Pure Conceptions of the
Understanding.
Chapter II. System of all Principles of the Pure Understanding.
Section I. Of the Supreme Principle of all Analytical Judgements.
Section II. Of the Supreme Principle of all Synthetical Judgements.
Section III. Systematic Representation of all Synthetical Principles
of the Pure Understanding.
Chapter III Of the Ground of the Division of all Objects into
Phenomena and Noumena.
APPENDIX.
SECOND DIVISION—TRANSCENDENTAL LOGIC
TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC. INTRODUCTION.
I. Of Transcendental Illusory Appearance.
II. Of Pure Reason as the Seat of Transcendental Illusory Appearance.
TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC—BOOK I—OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF PURE REASON.
Section I—Of Ideas in General.
Section II. Of Transcendental Ideas.
Section III. System of Transcendental Ideas.
TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC—BOOK II—OF THE DIALECTICAL PROCEDURE OF PURE
REASON.
Chapter I. Of the Paralogisms of Pure Reason.
Chapter II. The Antinomy of Pure Reason.
Section I. System of Cosmological Ideas.
Section II. Antithetic of Pure Reason.
Section III. Of the Interest of Reason in these Self-contradictions.
Section IV. Of the necessity imposed upon Pure Reason of presenting a
Solution of its Transcendental Problems.
Section V. Sceptical Exposition of the Cosmological Problems presented
in the four Transcendental Ideas.
Section VI. Transcendental Idealism as the Key to the Solution of Pure
Cosmological Dialectic.
Section VII. Critical Solution of the Cosmological Problem.
Section VIII. Regulative Principle of Pure Reason in relation to the
Cosmological Ideas.
Section IX. Of the Empirical Use of the Regulative Principle of Reason
with regard to the Cosmological Ideas.
I. Solution of the Cosmological Idea of the Totality of the
Composition of Phenomena in the Universe.
II. Solution of the Cosmological Idea of the Totality of the Division
of a Whole given in Intuition.
III. Solution of the Cosmological Idea of the Totality of the
Deduction of Cosmical Events from their Causes.
IV. Solution of the Cosmological Idea of the Totality of the
Dependence of Phenomenal Existences.
Chapter III. The Ideal of Pure Reason.
Section I. Of the Ideal in General.
Section II. Of the Transcendental Ideal (Prototypon Trancendentale).
Section III. Of the Arguments employed by Speculative Reason in Proof
of the Existence of a Supreme Being.
Section IV. Of the Impossibility of an Ontological Proof of the
Existence of God.
Section V. Of the Impossibility of a Cosmological Proof of the
Existence of God.
Section VI. Of the Impossibility of a Physico-Theological Proof.
Section VII. Critique of all Theology based upon Speculative
Principles of Reason.
Appendix. Of the Regulative Employment of the Ideas of Pure Reason.
II. Transcendental Doctrine of Method
Chapter I. The Discipline of Pure Reason.
Section I. The Discipline of Pure Reason in the Sphere of Dogmatism.
Section II. The Discipline of Pure Reason in Polemics.
Section III. The Discipline of Pure Reason in Hypothesis.
Section IV. The Discipline of Pure Reason in Relation to Proofs.
Chapter II. The Canon of Pure Reason.
Section I. Of the Ultimate End of the Pure Use of Reason.
Section II. Of the Ideal of the Summum Bonum as a Determining Ground
of the Ultimate End of Pure Reason.
Section III. Of Opinion, Knowledge, and Belief.
Chapter III. The Architectonic of Pure Reason.
Chapter IV. The History of Pure Reason.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION 1781
Human reason, in one sphere of its cognition, is called upon to
consider questions, which it cannot decline, as they are presented by
its own nature, but which it cannot answer, as they transcend every
faculty of the mind.
It falls into this difficulty without any fault of its own. It begins
with principles, which cannot be dispensed with in the field of
experience, and the truth and sufficiency of which are, at the same
time, insured by experience. With these principles it rises, in
obedience to the laws of its own nature, to ever higher and more remote
conditions. But it quickly discovers that, in this way, its labours
must remain ever incomplete, because new questions never cease to
present themselves; and thus it finds itself compelled to have recourse
to principles which transcend the region of experience, while they are
regarded by common sense without distrust. It thus falls into confusion
and contradictions, from which it conjectures the presence of latent
errors, which, however, it is unable to discover, because the
principles it employs, transcending the limits of experience, cannot be
tested by that criterion. The arena of these endless contests is called
_Metaphysic_.
Time was, when she was the _queen_ of all the sciences; and, if we take
the will for the deed, she certainly deserves, so far as regards the
high importance of her object-matter, this title of honour. Now, it is
the fashion of the time to heap contempt and scorn upon her; and the
matron mourns, forlorn and forsaken, like Hecuba:
Modo maxima rerum,
Tot generis, natisque potens...
Nunc trahor exul, inops.
—Ovid, Metamorphoses. xiii
At first, her government, under the administration of the _dogmatists_,
was an absolute _despotism_. But, as the legislative continued to show
traces of the ancient barbaric rule, her empire gradually broke up, and
intestine wars introduced the reign of _anarchy;_ while the _sceptics_,
like nomadic tribes, who hate a permanent habitation and settled mode
of living, attacked from time to time those who had organized
themselves into civil communities. But their number was, very happily,
small; and thus they could not entirely put a stop to the exertions of
those who persisted in raising new edifices, although on no settled or
uniform plan. In recent times the hope dawned upon us of seeing those
disputes settled, and the legitimacy of her claims established by a
kind of _physiology_ of the human understanding—that of the celebrated
Locke. But it was found that—although it was affirmed that this
so-called queen could not refer her descent to any higher source than
that of common experience, a circumstance which necessarily brought
suspicion on her claims—as this _genealogy_ was incorrect, she
persisted in the advancement of her claims to sovereignty. Thus
metaphysics necessarily fell back into the antiquated and rotten
constitution of _dogmatism_, and again became obnoxious to the contempt
from which efforts had been made to save it. At present, as all
methods, according to the general persuasion, have been tried in vain,
there reigns nought but weariness and complete _indifferentism_—the
mother of chaos and night in the scientific world, but at the same time
the source of, or at least the prelude to, the re-creation and
reinstallation of a science, when it has fallen into confusion,
obscurity, and disuse from ill directed effort.
For it is in reality vain to profess _indifference_ in regard to such
inquiries, the object of which cannot be indifferent to humanity.
Besides, these pretended _indifferentists_, however much they may try
to disguise themselves by the assumption of a popular style and by
changes on the language of the schools, unavoidably fall into
metaphysical declarations and propositions, which they profess to
regard with so much contempt. At the same time, this indifference,
which has arisen in the world of science, and which relates to that
kind of knowledge which we should wish to see destroyed the last, is a
phenomenon that well deserves our attention and reflection. It is
plainly not the effect of the levity, but of the matured _judgement_[1]
of the age, which refuses to be any longer entertained with illusory
knowledge, It is, in fact, a call to reason, again to undertake the
most laborious of all tasks—that of self-examination, and to establish
a tribunal, which may secure it in its well-grounded claims, while it
pronounces against all baseless assumptions and pretensions, not in an
arbitrary manner, but according to its own eternal and unchangeable
laws. This tribunal is nothing less than the _Critical Investigation of
Pure Reason_.
[1] We very often hear complaints of the shallowness of the present
age, and of the decay of profound science. But I do not think that
those which rest upon a secure foundation, such as mathematics,
physical science, etc., in the least deserve this reproach, but that
they rather maintain their ancient fame, and in the latter case,
indeed, far surpass it. The same would be the case with the other
kinds of cognition, if their principles were but firmly established.
In the absence of this security, indifference, doubt, and finally,
severe criticism are rather signs of a profound habit of thought. Our
age is the age of criticism, to which everything must be subjected.
The sacredness of religion, and the authority of legislation, are by
many regarded as grounds of exemption from the examination of this
tribunal. But, if they are exempted, they become the subjects of just
suspicion, and cannot lay claim to sincere respect, which reason
accords only to that which has stood the test of a free and public
examination.
I do not mean by this a criticism of books and systems, but a critical
inquiry into the faculty of reason, with reference to the cognitions to
which it strives to attain _without the aid of experience;_ in other
words, the solution of the question regarding the possibility or
impossibility of metaphysics, and the determination of the origin, as
well as of the extent and limits of this science. All this must be done
on the basis of principles.
This path—the only one now remaining—has been entered upon by me; and I
flatter myself that I have, in this way, discovered the cause of—and
consequently the mode of removing—all the errors which have hitherto
set reason at variance with itself, in the sphere of non-empirical
thought. I have not returned an evasive answer to the questions of
reason, by alleging the inability and limitation of the faculties of
the mind; I have, on the contrary, examined them completely in the
light of principles, and, after having discovered the cause of the
doubts and contradictions into which reason fell, have solved them to
its perfect satisfaction. It is true, these questions have not been
solved as dogmatism, in its vain fancies and desires, had expected; for
it can only be satisfied by the exercise of magical arts, and of these
I have no knowledge. But neither do these come within the compass of
our mental powers; and it was the duty of philosophy to destroy the
illusions which had their origin in misconceptions, whatever darling
hopes and valued expectations may be ruined by its explanations. My
chief aim in this work has been thoroughness; and I make bold to say
that there is not a single metaphysical problem that does not find its
solution, or at least the key to its solution, here. Pure reason is a
perfect unity; and therefore, if the principle presented by it prove to
be insufficient for the solution of even a single one of those
questions to which the very nature of reason gives birth, we must
reject it, as we could not be perfectly certain of its sufficiency in
the case of the others.
While I say this, I think I see upon the countenance of the reader
signs of dissatisfaction mingled with contempt, when he hears
declarations which sound so boastful and extravagant; and yet they are
beyond comparison more moderate than those advanced by the commonest
author of the commonest philosophical programme, in which the dogmatist
professes to demonstrate the simple nature of the soul, or the
necessity of a primal being. Such a dogmatist promises to extend human
knowledge beyond the limits of possible experience; while I humbly
confess that this is completely beyond my power. Instead of any such
attempt, I confine myself to the examination of reason alone and its
pure thought; and I do not need to seek far for the sum-total of its
cognition, because it has its seat in my own mind. Besides, common
logic presents me with a complete and systematic catalogue of all the
simple operations of reason; and it is my task to answer the question
how far reason can go, without the material presented and the aid
furnished by experience.
So much for the completeness and thoroughness necessary in the
execution of the present task. The aims set before us are not
arbitrarily proposed, but are imposed upon us by the nature of
cognition itself.
The above remarks relate to the _matter_ of our critical inquiry. As
regards the _form_, there are two indispensable conditions, which any
one who undertakes so difficult a task as that of a critique of pure
reason, is bound to fulfil. These conditions are _certitude_ and
_clearness_.
As regards _certitude_, I have fully convinced myself that, in this
sphere of thought, _opinion_ is perfectly inadmissible, and that
everything which bears the least semblance of an hypothesis must be
excluded, as of no value in such discussions. For it is a necessary
condition of every cognition that is to be established upon _à priori_
grounds that it shall be held to be absolutely necessary; much more is
this the case with an attempt to determine all pure _à priori_
cognition, and to furnish the standard—and consequently an example—of
all apodeictic (philosophical) certitude. Whether I have succeeded in
what I professed to do, it is for the reader to determine; it is the
author’s business merely to adduce grounds and reasons, without
determining what influence these ought to have on the mind of his
judges. But, lest anything he may have said may become the innocent
cause of doubt in their minds, or tend to weaken the effect which his
arguments might otherwise produce—he may be allowed to point out those
passages which may occasion mistrust or difficulty, although these do
not concern the main purpose of the present work. He does this solely
with the view of removing from the mind of the reader any doubts which
might affect his judgement of the work as a whole, and in regard to its
ultimate aim.
I know no investigations more necessary for a full insight into the
nature of the faculty which we call _understanding_, and at the same
time for the determination of the rules and limits of its use, than
those undertaken in the second chapter of the “Transcendental
Analytic,” under the title of _Deduction of the Pure Conceptions of the
Understanding;_ and they have also cost me by far the greatest
labour—labour which, I hope, will not remain uncompensated. The view
there taken, which goes somewhat deeply into the subject, has two
sides. The one relates to the objects of the pure understanding, and is
intended to demonstrate and to render comprehensible the objective
validity of its _à priori_ conceptions; and it forms for this reason an
essential part of the Critique. The other considers the pure
understanding itself, its possibility and its powers of cognition—that
is, from a subjective point of view; and, although this exposition is
of great importance, it does not belong essentially to the main purpose
of the work, because the grand question is what and how much can reason
and understanding, apart from experience, cognize, and not, how is the
_faculty of thought_ itself possible? As the latter is an inquiry into
the cause of a given effect, and has thus in it some semblance of an
hypothesis (although, as I shall show on another occasion, this is
really not the fact), it would seem that, in the present instance, I
had allowed myself to enounce a mere _opinion_, and that the reader
must therefore be at liberty to hold a different _opinion_. But I beg
to remind him that, if my subjective deduction does not produce in his
mind the conviction of its certitude at which I aimed, the objective
deduction, with which alone the present work is properly concerned, is
in every respect satisfactory.
As regards _clearness_, the reader has a right to demand, in the first
place, _discursive_ or logical clearness, that is, on the basis of
conceptions, and, secondly, _intuitive_ or æsthetic clearness, by means
of intuitions, that is, by examples or other modes of illustration _in
concreto_. I have done what I could for the first kind of
intelligibility. This was essential to my purpose; and it thus became
the accidental cause of my inability to do complete justice to the
second requirement. I have been almost always at a loss, during the
progress of this work, how to settle this question. Examples and
illustrations always appeared to me necessary, and, in the first sketch
of the Critique, naturally fell into their proper places. But I very
soon became aware of the magnitude of my task, and the numerous
problems with which I should be engaged; and, as I perceived that this
critical investigation would, even if delivered in the driest
_scholastic_ manner, be far from being brief, I found it unadvisable to
enlarge it still more with examples and explanations, which are
necessary only from a _popular_ point of view. I was induced to take
this course from the consideration also that the present work is not
intended for popular use, that those devoted to science do not require
such helps, although they are always acceptable, and that they would
have materially interfered with my present purpose. Abbé Terrasson
remarks with great justice that, if we estimate the size of a work, not
from the number of its pages, but from the time which we require to
make ourselves master of it, it may be said of many a book—_that it
would be much shorter, if it were not so short_. On the other hand, as
regards the comprehensibility of a system of speculative cognition,
connected under a single principle, we may say with equal justice: many
a book would have been much clearer, if it had not been intended to be
so very clear. For explanations and examples, and other helps to
intelligibility, aid us in the comprehension of _parts_, but they
distract the attention, dissipate the mental power of the reader, and
stand in the way of his forming a clear conception of the _whole;_ as
he cannot attain soon enough to a survey of the system, and the
colouring and embellishments bestowed upon it prevent his observing its
articulation or organization—which is the most important consideration
with him, when he comes to judge of its unity and stability.
The reader must naturally have a strong inducement to co-operate with
the present author, if he has formed the intention of erecting a
complete and solid edifice of metaphysical science, according to the
plan now laid before him. Metaphysics, as here represented, is the only
science which admits of completion—and with little labour, if it is
united, in a short time; so that nothing will be left to future
generations except the task of illustrating and applying it
_didactically_. For this science is nothing more than the inventory of
all that is given us by _pure reason_, systematically arranged. Nothing
can escape our notice; for what reason produces from itself cannot lie
concealed, but must be brought to the light by reason itself, so soon
as we have discovered the common principle of the ideas we seek. The
perfect unity of this kind of cognitions, which are based upon pure
conceptions, and uninfluenced by any empirical element, or any peculiar
intuition leading to determinate experience, renders this completeness
not only practicable, but also necessary.
Tecum habita, et nôris quam sit tibi curta supellex.
—Persius. Satirae iv. 52.
Such a system of pure speculative reason I hope to be able to publish
under the title of _Metaphysic of Nature_[2]. The content of this work
(which will not be half so long) will be very much richer than that of
the present Critique, which has to discover the sources of this
cognition and expose the conditions of its possibility, and at the same
time to clear and level a fit foundation for the scientific edifice. In
the present work, I look for the patient hearing and the impartiality
of a _judge;_ in the other, for the good-will and assistance of a
_co-labourer_. For, however complete the list of _principles_ for this
system may be in the Critique, the correctness of the system requires
that no _deduced_ conceptions should be absent. These cannot be
presented _à priori_, but must be gradually discovered; and, while the
_synthesis_ of conceptions has been fully exhausted in the Critique, it
is necessary that, in the proposed work, the same should be the case
with their _analysis_. But this will be rather an amusement than a
labour.
[2] In contradistinction to the Metaphysic of Ethics. This work was
never published.
PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION 1787
Whether the treatment of that portion of our knowledge which lies
within the province of pure reason advances with that undeviating
certainty which characterizes the progress of _science_, we shall be at
no loss to determine. If we find those who are engaged in metaphysical
pursuits, unable to come to an understanding as to the method which
they ought to follow; if we find them, after the most elaborate
preparations, invariably brought to a stand before the goal is reached,
and compelled to retrace their steps and strike into fresh paths, we
may then feel quite sure that they are far from having attained to the
certainty of scientific progress and may rather be said to be merely
groping about in the dark. In these circumstances we shall render an
important service to reason if we succeed in simply indicating the path
along which it must travel, in order to arrive at any results—even if
it should be found necessary to abandon many of those aims which,
without reflection, have been proposed for its attainment.
That _Logic_ has advanced in this sure course, even from the earliest
times, is apparent from the fact that, since Aristotle, it has been
unable to advance a step and, thus, to all appearance has reached its
completion. For, if some of the moderns have thought to enlarge its
domain by introducing _psychological_ discussions on the mental
faculties, such as imagination and wit, _metaphysical_, discussions on
the origin of knowledge and the different kinds of certitude, according
to the difference of the objects (idealism, scepticism, and so on), or
_anthropological_ discussions on prejudices, their causes and remedies:
this attempt, on the part of these authors, only shows their ignorance
of the peculiar nature of logical science. We do not enlarge but
disfigure the sciences when we lose sight of their respective limits
and allow them to run into one another. Now logic is enclosed within
limits which admit of perfectly clear definition; it is a science which
has for its object nothing but the exposition and proof of the _formal_
laws of all thought, whether it be _à priori_ or empirical, whatever be
its origin or its object, and whatever the difficulties—natural or
accidental—which it encounters in the human mind.
The early success of logic must be attributed exclusively to the
narrowness of its field, in which abstraction may, or rather must, be
made of all the objects of cognition with their characteristic
distinctions, and in which the understanding has only to deal with
itself and with its own forms. It is, obviously, a much more difficult
task for reason to strike into the sure path of science, where it has
to deal not simply with itself, but with objects external to itself.
Hence, logic is properly only a _propædeutic_—forms, as it were, the
vestibule of the sciences; and while it is necessary to enable us to
form a correct judgement with regard to the various branches of
knowledge, still the acquisition of real, substantive knowledge is to
be sought only in the sciences properly so called, that is, in the
objective sciences.
Now these sciences, if they can be termed rational at all, must contain
elements of _à priori_ cognition, and this cognition may stand in a
twofold relation to its object. Either it may have to _determine_ the
conception of the object—which must be supplied extraneously, or it may
have to _establish its reality_. The former is _theoretical_, the
latter _practical_, rational cognition. In both, the _pure_ or _à
priori_ element must be treated first, and must be carefully
distinguished from that which is supplied from other sources. Any other
method can only lead to irremediable confusion.
_Mathematics_ and _physics_ are the two theoretical sciences which have
to determine their objects _à priori_. The former is purely _à priori_,
the latter is partially so, but is also dependent on other sources of
cognition.
In the earliest times of which history affords us any record,
_mathematics_ had already entered on the sure course of science, among
that wonderful nation, the Greeks. Still it is not to be supposed that
it was as easy for this science to strike into, or rather to construct
for itself, that royal road, as it was for logic, in which reason has
only to deal with itself. On the contrary, I believe that it must have
remained long—chiefly among the Egyptians—in the stage of blind groping
after its true aims and destination, and that it was revolutionized by
the happy idea of one man, who struck out and determined for all time
the path which this science must follow, and which admits of an
indefinite advancement. The history of this intellectual
revolution—much more important in its results than the discovery of the
passage round the celebrated Cape of Good Hope—and of its author, has
not been preserved. But Diogenes Laertius, in naming the supposed
discoverer of some of the simplest elements of geometrical
demonstration—elements which, according to the ordinary opinion, do not
even require to be proved—makes it apparent that the change introduced
by the first indication of this new path, must have seemed of the
utmost importance to the mathematicians of that age, and it has thus
been secured against the chance of oblivion. A new light must have
flashed on the mind of the first man (_Thales_, or whatever may have
been his name) who demonstrated the properties of the _isosceles_
triangle. For he found that it was not sufficient to meditate on the
figure, as it lay before his eyes, or the conception of it, as it
existed in his mind, and thus endeavour to get at the knowledge of its
properties, but that it was necessary to produce these properties, as
it were, by a positive _à priori construction;_ and that, in order to
arrive with certainty at _à priori_ cognition, he must not attribute to
the object any other properties than those which necessarily followed
from that which he had himself, in accordance with his conception,
placed in the object.
A much longer period elapsed before _Physics_ entered on the highway of
science. For it is only about a century and a half since the wise BACON
gave a new direction to physical studies, or rather—as others were
already on the right track—imparted fresh vigour to the pursuit of this
new direction. Here, too, as in the case of mathematics, we find
evidence of a rapid intellectual revolution. In the remarks which
follow I shall confine myself to the _empirical_ side of natural
science.
When GALILEI experimented with balls of a definite weight on the
inclined plane, when TORRICELLI caused the air to sustain a weight
which he had calculated beforehand to be equal to that of a definite
column of water, or when STAHL, at a later period, converted metals
into lime, and reconverted lime into metal, by the addition and
subtraction of certain elements;[3] a light broke upon all natural
philosophers. They learned that reason only perceives that which it
produces after its own design; that it must not be content to follow,
as it were, in the leading-strings of nature, but must proceed in
advance with principles of judgement according to unvarying laws, and
compel nature to reply its questions. For accidental observations, made
according to no preconceived plan, cannot be united under a necessary
law. But it is this that reason seeks for and requires. It is only the
principles of reason which can give to concordant phenomena the
validity of laws, and it is only when experiment is directed by these
rational principles that it can have any real utility. Reason must
approach nature with the view, indeed, of receiving information from
it, not, however, in the character of a pupil, who listens to all that
his master chooses to tell him, but in that of a judge, who compels the
witnesses to reply to those questions which he himself thinks fit to
propose. To this single idea must the revolution be ascribed, by which,
after groping in the dark for so many centuries, natural science was at
length conducted into the path of certain progress.
[3] I do not here follow with exactness the history of the
experimental method, of which, indeed, the first steps are involved in
some obscurity.
We come now to _metaphysics_, a purely speculative science, which
occupies a completely isolated position and is entirely independent of
the teachings of experience. It deals with mere conceptions—not, like
mathematics, with conceptions applied to intuition—and in it, reason is
the pupil of itself alone. It is the oldest of the sciences, and would
still survive, even if all the rest were swallowed up in the abyss of
an all-destroying barbarism. But it has not yet had the good fortune to
attain to the sure scientific method. This will be apparent; if we
apply the tests which we proposed at the outset. We find that reason
perpetually comes to a stand, when it attempts to gain _à priori_ the
perception even of those laws which the most common experience
confirms. We find it compelled to retrace its steps in innumerable
instances, and to abandon the path on which it had entered, because
this does not lead to the desired result. We find, too, that those who
are engaged in metaphysical pursuits are far from being able to agree
among themselves, but that, on the contrary, this science appears to
furnish an arena specially adapted for the display of skill or the
exercise of strength in mock-contests—a field in which no combatant
ever yet succeeded in gaining an inch of ground, in which, at least, no
victory was ever yet crowned with permanent possession.
This leads us to inquire why it is that, in metaphysics, the sure path
of science has not hitherto been found. Shall we suppose that it is
impossible to discover it? Why then should nature have visited our
reason with restless aspirations after it, as if it were one of our
weightiest concerns? Nay, more, how little cause should we have to
place confidence in our reason, if it abandons us in a matter about
which, most of all, we desire to know the truth—and not only so, but
even allures us to the pursuit of vain phantoms, only to betray us in
the end? Or, if the path has only hitherto been missed, what
indications do we possess to guide us in a renewed investigation, and
to enable us to hope for greater success than has fallen to the lot of
our predecessors?
It appears to me that the examples of mathematics and natural
philosophy, which, as we have seen, were brought into their present
condition by a sudden revolution, are sufficiently remarkable to fix
our attention on the essential circumstances of the change which has
proved so advantageous to them, and to induce us to make the experiment
of imitating them, so far as the analogy which, as rational sciences,
they bear to metaphysics may permit. It has hitherto been assumed that
our cognition must conform to the objects; but all attempts to
ascertain anything about these objects _à priori_, by means of
conceptions, and thus to extend the range of our knowledge, have been
rendered abortive by this assumption. Let us then make the experiment
whether we may not be more successful in metaphysics, if we assume that
the objects must conform to our cognition. This appears, at all events,
to accord better with the _possibility_ of our gaining the end we have
in view, that is to say, of arriving at the cognition of objects _à
priori_, of determining something with respect to these objects, before
they are given to us. We here propose to do just what COPERNICUS did in
attempting to explain the celestial movements. When he found that he
could make no progress by assuming that all the heavenly bodies
revolved round the spectator, he reversed the process, and tried the
experiment of assuming that the spectator revolved, while the stars
remained at rest. We may make the same experiment with regard to the
intuition of objects. If the intuition must conform to the nature of
the objects, I do not see how we can know anything of them _à priori_.
If, on the other hand, the object conforms to the nature of our faculty
of intuition, I can then easily conceive the possibility of such an _à
priori_ knowledge. Now as I cannot rest in the mere intuitions, but—if
they are to become cognitions—must refer them, as _representations_, to
something, as _object_, and must determine the latter by means of the
former, here again there are two courses open to me. _Either_, first, I
may assume that the conceptions, by which I effect this determination,
conform to the object—and in this case I am reduced to the same
perplexity as before; _or_ secondly, I may assume that the objects, or,
which is the same thing, that _experience_, in which alone as given
objects they are cognized, conform to my conceptions—and then I am at
no loss how to proceed. For experience itself is a mode of cognition
which requires understanding. Before objects, are given to me, that is,
_à priori_, I must presuppose in myself laws of the understanding which
are expressed in conceptions _à priori_. To these conceptions, then,
all the objects of experience must necessarily conform. Now there are
objects which reason _thinks_, and that necessarily, but which cannot
be given in experience, or, at least, cannot be given _so_ as reason
thinks them. The attempt to think these objects will hereafter furnish
an excellent test of the new method of thought which we have adopted,
and which is based on the principle that we only cognize in things _à
priori_ that which we ourselves place in them.[4]
[4] This method, accordingly, which we have borrowed from the natural
philosopher, consists in seeking for the elements of pure reason in
that _which admits of confirmation or refutation by experiment_. Now
the propositions of pure reason, especially when they transcend the
limits of possible experience, do not admit of our making any
experiment with their _objects_, as in natural science. Hence, with
regard to those _conceptions_ and _principles_ which we assume _à
priori_, our only course will be to view them from two different
sides. We must regard one and the same conception, _on the one hand_,
in relation to experience as an object of the senses and of the
understanding, _on the other hand_, in relation to reason, isolated
and transcending the limits of experience, as an object of mere
thought. Now if we find that, when we regard things from this double
point of view, the result is in harmony with the principle of pure
reason, but that, when we regard them from a single point of view,
reason is involved in self-contradiction, then the experiment will
establish the correctness of this distinction.
This attempt succeeds as well as we could desire, and promises to
metaphysics, in its first part—that is, where it is occupied with
conceptions _à priori_, of which the corresponding objects may be given
in experience—the certain course of science. For by this new method we
are enabled perfectly to explain the possibility of _à priori_
cognition, and, what is more, to demonstrate satisfactorily the laws
which lie _à priori_ at the foundation of nature, as the sum of the
objects of experience—neither of which was possible according to the
procedure hitherto followed. But from this deduction of the faculty of
_à priori_ cognition in the first part of metaphysics, we derive a
surprising result, and one which, to all appearance, militates against
the great end of metaphysics, as treated in the second part. For we
come to the conclusion that our faculty of cognition is unable to
transcend the limits of possible experience; and yet this is precisely
the most essential object of this science. The estimate of our rational
cognition _à priori_ at which we arrive is that it has only to do with
phenomena, and that things in themselves, while possessing a real
existence, lie beyond its sphere. Here we are enabled to put the
justice of this estimate to the test. For that which of necessity
impels us to transcend the limits of experience and of all phenomena is
the _unconditioned_, which reason absolutely requires in things as they
are in themselves, in order to complete the series of conditions. Now,
if it appears that when, on the one hand, we assume that our cognition
conforms to its objects as things in themselves, _the unconditioned
cannot be thought without contradiction_, and that when, on the other
hand, we assume that our representation of things as they are given to
us, does not conform to these things as they are in themselves, but
that these objects, as phenomena, conform to our mode of
representation, _the contradiction disappears:_ we shall then be
convinced of the truth of that which we began by assuming for the sake
of experiment; we may look upon it as established that the
unconditioned does not lie in things as we know them, or as they are
given to us, but in things as they are in themselves, beyond the range
of our cognition.[5]
[5] This experiment of pure reason has a great similarity to that of
the _Chemists_, which they term the experiment of _reduction_, or,
more usually, the _synthetic_ process. The _analysis_ of the
metaphysician separates pure cognition _à priori_ into two
heterogeneous elements, viz., the cognition of things as phenomena,
and of things in themselves. _Dialectic_ combines these again into
harmony with the necessary rational idea of the unconditioned, and
finds that this harmony never results except through the above
distinction, which is, therefore, concluded to be just.
But, after we have thus denied the power of speculative reason to make
any progress in the sphere of the supersensible, it still remains for
our consideration whether data do not exist in _practical_ cognition
which may enable us to determine the transcendent conception of the
unconditioned, to rise beyond the limits of all possible experience
from a _practical_ point of view, and thus to satisfy the great ends of
metaphysics. Speculative reason has thus, at least, made room for such
an extension of our knowledge: and, if it must leave this space vacant,
still it does not rob us of the liberty to fill it up, if we can, by
means of practical data—nay, it even challenges us to make the
attempt.[6]
[6] So the central laws of the movements of the heavenly bodies
established the truth of that which Copernicus, first, assumed only as
a hypothesis, and, at the same time, brought to light that invisible
force (Newtonian attraction) which holds the universe together. The
latter would have remained forever undiscovered, if Copernicus had not
ventured on the experiment—contrary to the senses but still just—of
looking for the observed movements not in the heavenly bodies, but in
the spectator. In this Preface I treat the new metaphysical method as
a hypothesis with the view of rendering apparent the first attempts at
such a change of method, which are always hypothetical. But in the
Critique itself it will be demonstrated, not hypothetically, but
apodeictically, from the nature of our representations of space and
time, and from the elementary conceptions of the understanding.
This attempt to introduce a complete revolution in the procedure of
metaphysics, after the _example_ of the geometricians and natural
philosophers, constitutes the aim of the Critique of Pure Speculative
Reason. It is a treatise on the method to be followed, not a system of
the science itself. But, at the same time, it marks out and defines
both the external boundaries and the internal structure of this
science. For pure speculative reason has this peculiarity, that, in
choosing the various objects of thought, it is able to define the
limits of its own faculties, and even to give a complete enumeration of
the possible modes of proposing problems to itself, and thus to sketch
out the entire system of metaphysics. For, on the one hand, in
cognition _à priori_, nothing must be attributed to the objects but
what the thinking subject derives from itself; and, on the other hand,
reason is, in regard to the principles of cognition, a perfectly
distinct, independent unity, in which, as in an organized body, every
member exists for the sake of the others, and all for the sake of each,
so that no principle can be viewed, with safety, in one relationship,
unless it is, at the same time, viewed in relation to the total use of
pure reason. Hence, too, metaphysics has this singular advantage—an
advantage which falls to the lot of no other science which has to do
with _objects_—that, if once it is conducted into the sure path of
science, by means of this criticism, it can then take in the whole
sphere of its cognitions, and can thus complete its work, and leave it
for the use of posterity, as a capital which can never receive fresh
accessions. For metaphysics has to deal only with principles and with
the limitations of its own employment as determined by these
principles. To this perfection it is, therefore, bound, as the
fundamental science, to attain, and to it the maxim may justly be
applied:
Nil actum reputans, si quid superesset agendum.
But, it will be asked, what kind of a treasure is this that we propose
to bequeath to posterity? What is the real value of this system of
metaphysics, purified by criticism, and thereby reduced to a permanent
condition? A cursory view of the present work will lead to the
supposition that its use is merely _negative_, that it only serves to
warn us against venturing, with speculative reason, beyond the limits
of experience. This is, in fact, its primary use. But this, at once,
assumes a _positive_ value, when we observe that the principles with
which speculative reason endeavours to transcend its limits lead
inevitably, not to the _extension_, but to the _contraction_ of the use
of reason, inasmuch as they threaten to extend the limits of
sensibility, which is their proper sphere, over the entire realm of
thought and, thus, to supplant the pure (practical) use of reason. So
far, then, as this criticism is occupied in confining speculative
reason within its proper bounds, it is only negative; but, inasmuch as
it thereby, at the same time, removes an obstacle which impedes and
even threatens to destroy the use of practical reason, it possesses a
positive and very important value. In order to admit this, we have only
to be convinced that there is an absolutely necessary use of pure
reason—the moral use—in which it inevitably transcends the limits of
sensibility, without the aid of speculation, requiring only to be
insured against the effects of a speculation which would involve it in
contradiction with itself. To deny the positive advantage of the
service which this criticism renders us would be as absurd as to
maintain that the system of police is productive of no positive
benefit, since its main business is to prevent the violence which
citizen has to apprehend from citizen, that so each may pursue his
vocation in peace and security. That space and time are only forms of
sensible intuition, and hence are only conditions of the existence of
things as phenomena; that, moreover, we have no conceptions of the
understanding, and, consequently, no elements for the cognition of
things, except in so far as a corresponding intuition can be given to
these conceptions; that, accordingly, we can have no cognition of an
object, as a thing in itself, but only as an object of sensible
intuition, that is, as phenomenon—all this is proved in the analytical
part of the Critique; and from this the limitation of all possible
speculative cognition to the mere objects of _experience_, follows as a
necessary result. At the same time, it must be carefully borne in mind
that, while we surrender the power of _cognizing_, we still reserve the
power of _thinking_ objects, as things in themselves.[7] For,
otherwise, we should require to affirm the existence of an appearance,
without something that appears—which would be absurd. Now let us
suppose, for a moment, that we had not undertaken this criticism and,
accordingly, had not drawn the necessary distinction between things as
objects of experience and things as they are in themselves. The
principle of causality, and, by consequence, the mechanism of nature as
determined by causality, would then have absolute validity in relation
to all things as efficient causes. I should then be unable to assert,
with regard to one and the same being, e.g., the human soul, that its
will is _free_, and yet, at the same time, subject to natural
necessity, that is, _not free_, without falling into a palpable
contradiction, for in both propositions I should take the soul in _the
same signification_, as a thing in general, as a thing in itself—as,
without previous criticism, I could not but take it. Suppose now, on
the other hand, that we _have_ undertaken this criticism, and have
learnt that an object may be taken in _two senses_, first, as a
phenomenon, secondly, as a thing in itself; and that, according to the
deduction of the conceptions of the understanding, the principle of
causality has reference only to things in the first sense. We then see
how it does not involve any contradiction to assert, on the one hand,
that the will, in the phenomenal sphere—in visible action—is
necessarily obedient to the law of nature, and, in so far, _not free;_
and, on the other hand, that, as belonging to a thing in itself, it is
not subject to that law, and, accordingly, is _free_. Now, it is true
that I cannot, by means of speculative reason, and still less by
empirical observation, _cognize_ my soul as a thing in itself and
consequently, cannot cognize liberty as the property of a being to
which I ascribe effects in the world of sense. For, to do so, I must
cognize this being as existing, and yet not in time, which—since I
cannot support my conception by any intuition—is impossible. At the
same time, while I cannot _cognize_, I can quite well _think_ freedom,
that is to say, my representation of it involves at least no
contradiction, if we bear in mind the critical distinction of the two
modes of representation (the sensible and the intellectual) and the
consequent limitation of the conceptions of the pure understanding and
of the principles which flow from them. Suppose now that morality
necessarily presupposed liberty, in the strictest sense, as a property
of our will; suppose that reason contained certain practical, original
principles _à priori_, which were absolutely impossible without this
presupposition; and suppose, at the same time, that speculative reason
had proved that liberty was incapable of being thought at all. It would
then follow that the moral presupposition must give way to the
speculative affirmation, the opposite of which involves an obvious
contradiction, and that _liberty_ and, with it, morality must yield to
the _mechanism of nature;_ for the negation of morality involves no
contradiction, except on the presupposition of liberty. Now morality
does not require the speculative cognition of liberty; it is enough
that I can think it, that its conception involves no contradiction,
that it does not interfere with the mechanism of nature. But even this
requirement we could not satisfy, if we had not learnt the twofold
sense in which things may be taken; and it is only in this way that the
doctrine of morality and the doctrine of nature are confined within
their proper limits. For this result, then, we are indebted to a
criticism which warns us of our unavoidable ignorance with regard to
things in themselves, and establishes the necessary limitation of our
theoretical _cognition_ to mere phenomena.
[7] In order to _cognize_ an object, I must be able to prove its
possibility, either from its reality as attested by experience, or _à
priori_, by means of reason. But I can _think_ what I please, provided
only I do not contradict myself; that is, provided my conception is a
possible thought, though I may be unable to answer for the existence
of a corresponding object in the sum of possibilities. But something
more is required before I can attribute to such a conception objective
validity, that is real possibility—the other possibility being merely
logical. We are not, however, confined to theoretical sources of
cognition for the means of satisfying this additional requirement, but
may derive them from practical sources.
The positive value of the critical principles of pure reason in
relation to the conception of _God_ and of the _simple nature_ of the
_soul_, admits of a similar exemplification; but on this point I shall
not dwell. I cannot even make the assumption—as the practical interests
of morality require—of God, freedom, and immortality, if I do not
deprive speculative reason of its pretensions to transcendent insight.
For to arrive at these, it must make use of principles which, in fact,
extend only to the objects of possible experience, and which cannot be
applied to objects beyond this sphere without converting them into
phenomena, and thus rendering the _practical extension_ of pure reason
impossible. I must, therefore, abolish _knowledge_, to make room for
_belief_. The dogmatism of metaphysics, that is, the presumption that
it is possible to advance in metaphysics without previous criticism, is
the true source of the unbelief (always dogmatic) which militates
against morality.
Thus, while it may be no very difficult task to bequeath a legacy to
posterity, in the shape of a system of metaphysics constructed in
accordance with the Critique of Pure Reason, still the value of such a
bequest is not to be depreciated. It will render an important service
to reason, by substituting the certainty of scientific method for that
random groping after results without the guidance of principles, which
has hitherto characterized the pursuit of metaphysical studies. It will
render an important service to the inquiring mind of youth, by leading
the student to apply his powers to the cultivation of genuine science,
instead of wasting them, as at present, on speculations which can never
lead to any result, or on the idle attempt to invent new ideas and
opinions. But, above all, it will confer an inestimable benefit on
morality and religion, by showing that all the objections urged against
them may be silenced for ever by the _Socratic_ method, that is to say,
by proving the ignorance of the objector. For, as the world has never
been, and, no doubt, never will be without a system of metaphysics of
one kind or another, it is the highest and weightiest concern of
philosophy to render it powerless for harm, by closing up the sources
of error.
This important change in the field of the sciences, this loss of its
fancied possessions, to which speculative reason must submit, does not
prove in any way detrimental to the general interests of humanity. The
advantages which the world has derived from the teachings of pure
reason are not at all impaired. The loss falls, in its whole extent, on
the _monopoly of the schools_, but does not in the slightest degree
touch the _interests of mankind_. I appeal to the most obstinate
dogmatist, whether the proof of the continued existence of the soul
after death, derived from the simplicity of its substance; of the
freedom of the will in opposition to the general mechanism of nature,
drawn from the subtle but impotent distinction of subjective and
objective practical necessity; or of the existence of God, deduced from
the conception of an _ens realissimum_—the contingency of the
changeable, and the necessity of a prime mover, has ever been able to
pass beyond the limits of the schools, to penetrate the public mind, or
to exercise the slightest influence on its convictions. It must be
admitted that this has not been the case and that, owing to the
unfitness of the common understanding for such subtle speculations, it
can never be expected to take place. On the contrary, it is plain that
_the hope of a future life_ arises from the feeling, which exists in
the breast of every man, that the temporal is inadequate to meet and
satisfy the demands of his nature. In like manner, it cannot be doubted
that the clear exhibition of duties in opposition to all the claims of
inclination, gives rise to the consciousness of _freedom_, and that the
glorious order, beauty, and providential care, everywhere displayed in
nature, give rise to the belief in a wise and great Author of the
Universe. Such is the genesis of these general convictions of mankind,
so far as they depend on rational grounds; and this public property not
only remains undisturbed, but is even raised to greater importance, by
the doctrine that the schools have no right to arrogate to themselves a
more profound insight into a matter of general human concernment than
that to which the great mass of men, ever held by us in the highest
estimation, can without difficulty attain, and that the schools should,
therefore, confine themselves to the elaboration of these universally
comprehensible and, from a moral point of view, amply satisfactory
proofs. The change, therefore, affects only the arrogant pretensions of
the schools, which would gladly retain, in their own exclusive
possession, the key to the truths which they impart to the public.
Quod mecum nescit, solus vult scire videri.
At the same time it does not deprive the speculative philosopher of his
just title to be the sole depositor of a science which benefits the
public without its knowledge—I mean, the Critique of Pure Reason. This
can never become popular and, indeed, has no occasion to be so; for
finespun arguments in favour of useful truths make just as little
impression on the public mind as the equally subtle objections brought
against these truths. On the other hand, since both inevitably force
themselves on every man who rises to the height of speculation, it
becomes the manifest duty of the schools to enter upon a thorough
investigation of the rights of speculative reason and, thus, to prevent
the scandal which metaphysical controversies are sure, sooner or later,
to cause even to the masses. It is only by criticism that
metaphysicians (and, as such, theologians too) can be saved from these
controversies and from the consequent perversion of their doctrines.
Criticism alone can strike a blow at the root of materialism, fatalism,
atheism, free-thinking, fanaticism, and superstition, which are
universally injurious—as well as of idealism and scepticism, which are
dangerous to the schools, but can scarcely pass over to the public. If
governments think proper to interfere with the affairs of the learned,
it would be more consistent with a wise regard for the interests of
science, as well as for those of society, to favour a criticism of this
kind, by which alone the labours of reason can be established on a firm
basis, than to support the ridiculous despotism of the schools, which
raise a loud cry of danger to the public over the destruction of
cobwebs, of which the public has never taken any notice, and the loss
of which, therefore, it can never feel.
This critical science is not opposed to the _dogmatic procedure_ of
reason in pure cognition; for pure cognition must always be dogmatic,
that is, must rest on strict demonstration from sure principles _à
priori_—but to _dogmatism_, that is, to the presumption that it is
possible to make any progress with a pure cognition, derived from
(philosophical) conceptions, according to the principles which reason
has long been in the habit of employing—without first inquiring in what
way and by what right reason has come into the possession of these
principles. Dogmatism is thus the dogmatic procedure of pure reason
_without previous criticism of its own powers_, and in opposing this
procedure, we must not be supposed to lend any countenance to that
loquacious shallowness which arrogates to itself the name of
popularity, nor yet to scepticism, which makes short work with the
whole science of metaphysics. On the contrary, our criticism is the
necessary preparation for a thoroughly scientific system of metaphysics
which must perform its task entirely _à priori_, to the complete
satisfaction of speculative reason, and must, therefore, be treated,
not popularly, but scholastically. In carrying out the plan which the
Critique prescribes, that is, in the future system of metaphysics, we
must have recourse to the strict method of the celebrated WOLF, the
greatest of all dogmatic philosophers. He was the first to point out
the necessity of establishing fixed principles, of clearly defining our
conceptions, and of subjecting our demonstrations to the most severe
scrutiny, instead of rashly jumping at conclusions. The example which
he set served to awaken that spirit of profound and thorough
investigation which is not yet extinct in Germany. He would have been
peculiarly well fitted to give a truly scientific character to
metaphysical studies, had it occurred to him to prepare the field by a
criticism of the _organum_, that is, of pure reason itself. That he
failed to perceive the necessity of such a procedure must be ascribed
to the dogmatic mode of thought which characterized his age, and on
this point the philosophers of his time, as well as of all previous
times, have nothing to reproach each other with. Those who reject at
once the method of Wolf, and of the Critique of Pure Reason, can have
no other aim but to shake off the fetters of _science_, to change
labour into sport, certainty into opinion, and philosophy into
philodoxy.
In this _second edition_, I have endeavoured, as far as possible, to
remove the difficulties and obscurity which, without fault of mine
perhaps, have given rise to many misconceptions even among acute
thinkers. In the propositions themselves, and in the demonstrations by
which they are supported, as well as in the form and the entire plan of
the work, I have found nothing to alter; which must be attributed
partly to the long examination to which I had subjected the whole
before offering it to the public and partly to the nature of the case.
For pure speculative reason is an organic structure in which there is
nothing isolated or independent, but every Single part is essential to
all the rest; and hence, the slightest imperfection, whether defect or
positive error, could not fail to betray itself in use. I venture,
further, to hope, that this system will maintain the same unalterable
character for the future. I am led to entertain this confidence, not by
vanity, but by the evidence which the equality of the result affords,
when we proceed, first, from the simplest elements up to the complete
whole of pure reason and, and then, backwards from the whole to each
part. We find that the attempt to make the slightest alteration, in any
part, leads inevitably to contradictions, not merely in this system,
but in human reason itself. At the same time, there is still much room
for improvement in the _exposition_ of the doctrines contained in this
work. In the present edition, I have endeavoured to remove
misapprehensions of the æsthetical part, especially with regard to the
conception of time; to clear away the obscurity which has been found in
the deduction of the conceptions of the understanding; to supply the
supposed want of sufficient evidence in the demonstration of the
principles of the pure understanding; and, lastly, to obviate the
misunderstanding of the paralogisms which immediately precede the
Rational Psychology. Beyond this point—the end of the second main
division of the “Transcendental Dialectic”—I have not extended my
alterations,[8] partly from want of time, and partly because I am not
aware that any portion of the remainder has given rise to
misconceptions among intelligent and impartial critics, whom I do not
here mention with that praise which is their due, but who will find
that their suggestions have been attended to in the work itself.
[8] The only addition, properly so called—and that only in the method
of proof—which I have made in the present edition, consists of a new
refutation of psychological _Idealism_, and a strict demonstration—the
only one possible, as I believe—of the objective reality of external
intuition. However harmless idealism may be considered—although in
reality it is not so—in regard to the essential ends of metaphysics,
it must still remain a scandal to philosophy and to the general human
reason to be obliged to assume, as an article of mere belief, the
existence of things external to ourselves (from which, yet, we derive
the whole material of cognition for the internal sense), and not to be
able to oppose a satisfactory proof to any one who may call it in
question. As there is some obscurity of expression in the
demonstration as it stands in the text, I propose to alter the passage
in question as follows: “But this permanent cannot be an intuition in
me. For all the determining grounds of my existence which can be found
in me are representations and, as such, do themselves require a
permanent, distinct from them, which may determine my existence in
relation to their changes, that is, my existence in time, wherein they
change.” It may, probably, be urged in opposition to this proof that,
after all, I am only conscious immediately of that which is in me,
that is, of my _representation_ of external things, and that,
consequently, it must always remain uncertain whether anything
corresponding to this representation does or does not exist externally
to me. But I am conscious, through internal _experience_, of my
_existence in time_ (consequently, also, of the determinability of the
former in the latter), and that is more than the simple consciousness
of my representation. It is, in fact, the same as the _empirical
consciousness of my existence_, which can only be determined in
relation to something, which, while connected with my existence, is
_external to me_. This consciousness of my existence in time is,
therefore, identical with the consciousness of a relation to something
external to me, and it is, therefore, experience, not fiction, sense,
not imagination, which inseparably connects the external with my
internal sense. For the external sense is, in itself, the relation of
intuition to something real, external to me; and the reality of this
something, as opposed to the mere imagination of it, rests solely on
its inseparable connection with internal experience as the condition
of its possibility. If with the _intellectual consciousness_ of my
existence, in the representation: _I am_, which accompanies all my
judgements, and all the operations of my understanding, I could, at
the same time, connect a determination of my existence by
_intellectual intuition_, then the consciousness of a relation to
something external to me would not be necessary. But the internal
intuition in which alone my existence can be determined, though
preceded by that purely intellectual consciousness, is itself sensible
and attached to the condition of time. Hence this determination of my
existence, and consequently my internal experience itself, must depend
on something permanent which is not in me, which can be, therefore,
only in something external to me, to which I must look upon myself as
being related. Thus the reality of the external sense is necessarily
connected with that of the internal, in order to the possibility of
experience in general; that is, I am just as certainly conscious that
there are things external to me related to my sense as I am that I
myself exist as determined in time. But in order to ascertain to what
given intuitions objects, external me, really correspond, in other
words, what intuitions belong to the external sense and not to
imagination, I must have recourse, in every particular case, to those
rules according to which experience in general (even internal
experience) is distinguished from imagination, and which are always
based on the proposition that there really is an external
experience.—We may add the remark that the representation of something
_permanent_ in existence, is not the same thing as the _permanent
representation;_ for a representation may be very variable and
changing—as all our representations, even that of matter, are—and yet
refer to something permanent, which must, therefore, be distinct from
all my representations and external to me, the existence of which is
necessarily included in the determination of my own existence, and
with it constitutes _one_ experience—an experience which would not
even be possible internally, if it were not also at the same time, in
part, external. To the question _How?_ we are no more able to reply,
than we are, in general, to think the stationary in time, the
coexistence of which with the variable, produces the conception of
change.
In attempting to render the exposition of my views as intelligible as
possible, I have been compelled to leave out or abridge various
passages which were not essential to the completeness of the work, but
which many readers might consider useful in other respects, and might
be unwilling to miss. This trifling loss, which could not be avoided
without swelling the book beyond due limits, may be supplied, at the
pleasure of the reader, by a comparison with the first edition, and
will, I hope, be more than compensated for by the greater clearness of
the exposition as it now stands.
I have observed, with pleasure and thankfulness, in the pages of
various reviews and treatises, that the spirit of profound and thorough
investigation is not extinct in Germany, though it may have been
overborne and silenced for a time by the fashionable tone of a licence
in thinking, which gives itself the airs of genius, and that the
difficulties which beset the paths of criticism have not prevented
energetic and acute thinkers from making themselves masters of the
science of pure reason to which these paths conduct—a science which is
not popular, but scholastic in its character, and which alone can hope
for a lasting existence or possess an abiding value. To these deserving
men, who so happily combine profundity of view with a talent for lucid
exposition—a talent which I myself am not conscious of possessing—I
leave the task of removing any obscurity which may still adhere to the
statement of my doctrines. For, in this case, the danger is not that of
being refuted, but of being misunderstood. For my own part, I must
henceforward abstain from controversy, although I shall carefully
attend to all suggestions, whether from friends or adversaries, which
may be of use in the future elaboration of the system of this
Propædeutic. As, during these labours, I have advanced pretty far in
years this month I reach my sixty-fourth year—it will be necessary for
me to economize time, if I am to carry out my plan of elaborating the
metaphysics of nature as well as of morals, in confirmation of the
correctness of the principles established in this Critique of Pure
Reason, both speculative and practical; and I must, therefore, leave
the task of clearing up the obscurities of the present work—inevitable,
perhaps, at the outset—as well as, the defence of the whole, to those
deserving men, who have made my system their own. A philosophical
system cannot come forward armed at all points like a mathematical
treatise, and hence it may be quite possible to take objection to
particular passages, while the organic structure of the system,
considered as a unity, has no danger to apprehend. But few possess the
ability, and still fewer the inclination, to take a comprehensive view
of a new system. By confining the view to particular passages, taking
these out of their connection and comparing them with one another, it
is easy to pick out apparent contradictions, especially in a work
written with any freedom of style. These contradictions place the work
in an unfavourable light in the eyes of those who rely on the judgement
of others, but are easily reconciled by those who have mastered the
idea of the whole. If a theory possesses stability in itself, the
action and reaction which seemed at first to threaten its existence
serve only, in the course of time, to smooth down any superficial
roughness or inequality, and—if men of insight, impartiality, and truly
popular gifts, turn their attention to it—to secure to it, in a short
time, the requisite elegance also.
KÖNIGSBERG, _April_ 1787.
Introduction
I. Of the difference between Pure and Empirical Knowledge
That all our knowledge begins with experience there can be no doubt.
For how is it possible that the faculty of cognition should be awakened
into exercise otherwise than by means of objects which affect our
senses, and partly of themselves produce representations, partly rouse
our powers of understanding into activity, to compare to connect, or to
separate these, and so to convert the raw material of our sensuous
impressions into a knowledge of objects, which is called experience? In
respect of time, therefore, no knowledge of ours is antecedent to
experience, but begins with it.
But, though all our knowledge begins with experience, it by no means
follows that all arises out of experience. For, on the contrary, it is
quite possible that our empirical knowledge is a compound of that which
we receive through impressions, and that which the faculty of cognition
supplies from itself (sensuous impressions giving merely the occasion),
an addition which we cannot distinguish from the original element given
by sense, till long practice has made us attentive to, and skilful in
separating it. It is, therefore, a question which requires close
investigation, and not to be answered at first sight, whether there
exists a knowledge altogether independent of experience, and even of
all sensuous impressions? Knowledge of this kind is called à priori, in
contradistinction to empirical knowledge, which has its sources à
posteriori, that is, in experience.
But the expression, “à priori,” is not as yet definite enough
adequately to indicate the whole meaning of the question above started.
For, in speaking of knowledge which has its sources in experience, we
are wont to say, that this or that may be known à priori, because we do
not derive this knowledge immediately from experience, but from a
general rule, which, however, we have itself borrowed from experience.
Thus, if a man undermined his house, we say, “he might know à priori
that it would have fallen;” that is, he needed not to have waited for
the experience that it did actually fall. But still, à priori, he could
not know even this much. For, that bodies are heavy, and, consequently,
that they fall when their supports are taken away, must have been known
to him previously, by means of experience.
By the term “knowledge à priori,” therefore, we shall in the sequel
understand, not such as is independent of this or that kind of
experience, but such as is absolutely so of all experience. Opposed to
this is empirical knowledge, or that which is possible only à
posteriori, that is, through experience. Knowledge à priori is either
pure or impure. Pure knowledge à priori is that with which no empirical
element is mixed up. For example, the proposition, “Every change has a
cause,” is a proposition à priori, but impure, because change is a
conception which can only be derived from experience.
II. The Human Intellect, even in an Unphilosophical State, is in
Possession of Certain Cognitions “à priori”.
The question now is as to a criterion, by which we may securely
distinguish a pure from an empirical cognition. Experience no doubt
teaches us that this or that object is constituted in such and such a
manner, but not that it could not possibly exist otherwise. Now, in the
first place, if we have a proposition which contains the idea of
necessity in its very conception, it is priori. If, moreover, it is not
derived from any other proposition, unless from one equally involving
the idea of necessity, it is absolutely priori. Secondly, an empirical
judgement never exhibits strict and absolute, but only assumed and
comparative universality (by induction); therefore, the most we can say
is—so far as we have hitherto observed, there is no exception to this
or that rule. If, on the other hand, a judgement carries with it strict
and absolute universality, that is, admits of no possible exception, it
is not derived from experience, but is valid absolutely à priori.
Empirical universality is, therefore, only an arbitrary extension of
validity, from that which may be predicated of a proposition valid in
most cases, to that which is asserted of a proposition which holds good
in all; as, for example, in the affirmation, “All bodies are heavy.”
When, on the contrary, strict universality characterizes a judgement,
it necessarily indicates another peculiar source of knowledge, namely,
a faculty of cognition à priori. Necessity and strict universality,
therefore, are infallible tests for distinguishing pure from empirical
knowledge, and are inseparably connected with each other. But as in the
use of these criteria the empirical limitation is sometimes more easily
detected than the contingency of the judgement, or the unlimited
universality which we attach to a judgement is often a more convincing
proof than its necessity, it may be advisable to use the criteria
separately, each being by itself infallible.
Now, that in the sphere of human cognition we have judgements which are
necessary, and in the strictest sense universal, consequently pure à
priori, it will be an easy matter to show. If we desire an example from
the sciences, we need only take any proposition in mathematics. If we
cast our eyes upon the commonest operations of the understanding, the
proposition, “Every change must have a cause,” will amply serve our
purpose. In the latter case, indeed, the conception of a cause so
plainly involves the conception of a necessity of connection with an
effect, and of a strict universality of the law, that the very notion
of a cause would entirely disappear, were we to derive it, like Hume,
from a frequent association of what happens with that which precedes;
and the habit thence originating of connecting representations—the
necessity inherent in the judgement being therefore merely subjective.
Besides, without seeking for such examples of principles existing à
priori in cognition, we might easily show that such principles are the
indispensable basis of the possibility of experience itself, and
consequently prove their existence à priori. For whence could our
experience itself acquire certainty, if all the rules on which it
depends were themselves empirical, and consequently fortuitous? No one,
therefore, can admit the validity of the use of such rules as first
principles. But, for the present, we may content ourselves with having
established the fact, that we do possess and exercise a faculty of pure
à priori cognition; and, secondly, with having pointed out the proper
tests of such cognition, namely, universality and necessity.
Not only in judgements, however, but even in conceptions, is an à
priori origin manifest. For example, if we take away by degrees from
our conceptions of a body all that can be referred to mere sensuous
experience—colour, hardness or softness, weight, even
impenetrability—the body will then vanish; but the space which it
occupied still remains, and this it is utterly impossible to annihilate
in thought. Again, if we take away, in like manner, from our empirical
conception of any object, corporeal or incorporeal, all properties
which mere experience has taught us to connect with it, still we cannot
think away those through which we cogitate it as substance, or adhering
to substance, although our conception of substance is more determined
than that of an object. Compelled, therefore, by that necessity with
which the conception of substance forces itself upon us, we must
confess that it has its seat in our faculty of cognition à priori.
III. Philosophy stands in need of a Science which shall Determine the
Possibility, Principles, and Extent of Human Knowledge “à priori”
Of far more importance than all that has been above said, is the
consideration that certain of our cognitions rise completely above the
sphere of all possible experience, and by means of conceptions, to
which there exists in the whole extent of experience no corresponding
object, seem to extend the range of our judgements beyond its bounds.
And just in this transcendental or supersensible sphere, where
experience affords us neither instruction nor guidance, lie the
investigations of reason, which, on account of their importance, we
consider far preferable to, and as having a far more elevated aim than,
all that the understanding can achieve within the sphere of sensuous
phenomena. So high a value do we set upon these investigations, that
even at the risk of error, we persist in following them out, and permit
neither doubt nor disregard nor indifference to restrain us from the
pursuit. These unavoidable problems of mere pure reason are God,
freedom (of will), and immortality. The science which, with all its
preliminaries, has for its especial object the solution of these
problems is named metaphysics—a science which is at the very outset
dogmatical, that is, it confidently takes upon itself the execution of
this task without any previous investigation of the ability or
inability of reason for such an undertaking.
Now the safe ground of experience being thus abandoned, it seems
nevertheless natural that we should hesitate to erect a building with
the cognitions we possess, without knowing whence they come, and on the
strength of principles, the origin of which is undiscovered. Instead of
thus trying to build without a foundation, it is rather to be expected
that we should long ago have put the question, how the understanding
can arrive at these à priori cognitions, and what is the extent,
validity, and worth which they may possess? We say, “This is natural
enough,” meaning by the word natural, that which is consistent with a
just and reasonable way of thinking; but if we understand by the term,
that which usually happens, nothing indeed could be more natural and
more comprehensible than that this investigation should be left long
unattempted. For one part of our pure knowledge, the science of
mathematics, has been long firmly established, and thus leads us to
form flattering expectations with regard to others, though these may be
of quite a different nature. Besides, when we get beyond the bounds of
experience, we are of course safe from opposition in that quarter; and
the charm of widening the range of our knowledge is so great that,
unless we are brought to a standstill by some evident contradiction, we
hurry on undoubtingly in our course. This, however, may be avoided, if
we are sufficiently cautious in the construction of our fictions, which
are not the less fictions on that account.
Mathematical science affords us a brilliant example, how far,
independently of all experience, we may carry our à priori knowledge.
It is true that the mathematician occupies himself with objects and
cognitions only in so far as they can be represented by means of
intuition. But this circumstance is easily overlooked, because the said
intuition can itself be given à priori, and therefore is hardly to be
distinguished from a mere pure conception. Deceived by such a proof of
the power of reason, we can perceive no limits to the extension of our
knowledge. The light dove cleaving in free flight the thin air, whose
resistance it feels, might imagine that her movements would be far more
free and rapid in airless space. Just in the same way did Plato,
abandoning the world of sense because of the narrow limits it sets to
the understanding, venture upon the wings of ideas beyond it, into the
void space of pure intellect. He did not reflect that he made no real
progress by all his efforts; for he met with no resistance which might
serve him for a support, as it were, whereon to rest, and on which he
might apply his powers, in order to let the intellect acquire momentum
for its progress. It is, indeed, the common fate of human reason in
speculation, to finish the imposing edifice of thought as rapidly as
possible, and then for the first time to begin to examine whether the
foundation is a solid one or no. Arrived at this point, all sorts of
excuses are sought after, in order to console us for its want of
stability, or rather, indeed, to enable Us to dispense altogether with
so late and dangerous an investigation. But what frees us during the
process of building from all apprehension or suspicion, and flatters us
into the belief of its solidity, is this. A great part, perhaps the
greatest part, of the business of our reason consists in the
analysation of the conceptions which we already possess of objects. By
this means we gain a multitude of cognitions, which although really
nothing more than elucidations or explanations of that which (though in
a confused manner) was already thought in our conceptions, are, at
least in respect of their form, prized as new introspections; whilst,
so far as regards their matter or content, we have really made no
addition to our conceptions, but only disinvolved them. But as this
process does furnish a real priori knowledge, which has a sure progress
and useful results, reason, deceived by this, slips in, without being
itself aware of it, assertions of a quite different kind; in which, to
given conceptions it adds others, à priori indeed, but entirely foreign
to them, without our knowing how it arrives at these, and, indeed,
without such a question ever suggesting itself. I shall therefore at
once proceed to examine the difference between these two modes of
knowledge.
IV. Of the Difference Between Analytical and Synthetical Judgements.
In all judgements wherein the relation of a subject to the predicate is
cogitated (I mention affirmative judgements only here; the application
to negative will be very easy), this relation is possible in two
different ways. Either the predicate B belongs to the subject A, as
somewhat which is contained (though covertly) in the conception A; or
the predicate B lies completely out of the conception A, although it
stands in connection with it. In the first instance, I term the
judgement analytical, in the second, synthetical. Analytical judgements
(affirmative) are therefore those in which the connection of the
predicate with the subject is cogitated through identity; those in
which this connection is cogitated without identity, are called
synthetical judgements. The former may be called explicative, the
latter augmentative judgements; because the former add in the predicate
nothing to the conception of the subject, but only analyse it into its
constituent conceptions, which were thought already in the subject,
although in a confused manner; the latter add to our conceptions of the
subject a predicate which was not contained in it, and which no
analysis could ever have discovered therein. For example, when I say,
“All bodies are extended,” this is an analytical judgement. For I need
not go beyond the conception of body in order to find extension
connected with it, but merely analyse the conception, that is, become
conscious of the manifold properties which I think in that conception,
in order to discover this predicate in it: it is therefore an
analytical judgement. On the other hand, when I say, “All bodies are
heavy,” the predicate is something totally different from that which I
think in the mere conception of a body. By the addition of such a
predicate, therefore, it becomes a synthetical judgement.
Judgements of experience, as such, are always synthetical. For it would
be absurd to think of grounding an analytical judgement on experience,
because in forming such a judgement I need not go out of the sphere of
my conceptions, and therefore recourse to the testimony of experience
is quite unnecessary. That “bodies are extended” is not an empirical
judgement, but a proposition which stands firm à priori. For before
addressing myself to experience, I already have in my conception all
the requisite conditions for the judgement, and I have only to extract
the predicate from the conception, according to the principle of
contradiction, and thereby at the same time become conscious of the
necessity of the judgement, a necessity which I could never learn from
experience. On the other hand, though at first I do not at all include
the predicate of weight in my conception of body in general, that
conception still indicates an object of experience, a part of the
totality of experience, to which I can still add other parts; and this
I do when I recognize by observation that bodies are heavy. I can
cognize beforehand by analysis the conception of body through the
characteristics of extension, impenetrability, shape, etc., all which
are cogitated in this conception. But now I extend my knowledge, and
looking back on experience from which I had derived this conception of
body, I find weight at all times connected with the above
characteristics, and therefore I synthetically add to my conceptions
this as a predicate, and say, “All bodies are heavy.” Thus it is
experience upon which rests the possibility of the synthesis of the
predicate of weight with the conception of body, because both
conceptions, although the one is not contained in the other, still
belong to one another (only contingently, however), as parts of a
whole, namely, of experience, which is itself a synthesis of
intuitions.
But to synthetical judgements à priori, such aid is entirely wanting.
If I go out of and beyond the conception A, in order to recognize
another B as connected with it, what foundation have I to rest on,
whereby to render the synthesis possible? I have here no longer the
advantage of looking out in the sphere of experience for what I want.
Let us take, for example, the proposition, “Everything that happens has
a cause.” In the conception of “something that happens,” I indeed think
an existence which a certain time antecedes, and from this I can derive
analytical judgements. But the conception of a cause lies quite out of
the above conception, and indicates something entirely different from
“that which happens,” and is consequently not contained in that
conception. How then am I able to assert concerning the general
conception—“that which happens”—something entirely different from that
conception, and to recognize the conception of cause although not
contained in it, yet as belonging to it, and even necessarily? what is
here the unknown = X, upon which the understanding rests when it
believes it has found, out of the conception A a foreign predicate B,
which it nevertheless considers to be connected with it? It cannot be
experience, because the principle adduced annexes the two
representations, cause and effect, to the representation existence, not
only with universality, which experience cannot give, but also with the
expression of necessity, therefore completely à priori and from pure
conceptions. Upon such synthetical, that is augmentative propositions,
depends the whole aim of our speculative knowledge à priori; for
although analytical judgements are indeed highly important and
necessary, they are so, only to arrive at that clearness of conceptions
which is requisite for a sure and extended synthesis, and this alone is
a real acquisition.
V. In all Theoretical Sciences of Reason, Synthetical Judgements “à
priori” are contained as Principles.
1. Mathematical judgements are always synthetical. Hitherto this fact,
though incontestably true and very important in its consequences, seems
to have escaped the analysts of the human mind, nay, to be in complete
opposition to all their conjectures. For as it was found that
mathematical conclusions all proceed according to the principle of
contradiction (which the nature of every apodeictic certainty
requires), people became persuaded that the fundamental principles of
the science also were recognized and admitted in the same way. But the
notion is fallacious; for although a synthetical proposition can
certainly be discerned by means of the principle of contradiction, this
is possible only when another synthetical proposition precedes, from
which the latter is deduced, but never of itself.
Before all, be it observed, that proper mathematical propositions are
always judgements à priori, and not empirical, because they carry along
with them the conception of necessity, which cannot be given by
experience. If this be demurred to, it matters not; I will then limit
my assertion to pure mathematics, the very conception of which implies
that it consists of knowledge altogether non-empirical and à priori.
We might, indeed at first suppose that the proposition 7 + 5 = 12 is a
merely analytical proposition, following (according to the principle of
contradiction) from the conception of a sum of seven and five. But if
we regard it more narrowly, we find that our conception of the sum of
seven and five contains nothing more than the uniting of both sums into
one, whereby it cannot at all be cogitated what this single number is
which embraces both. The conception of twelve is by no means obtained
by merely cogitating the union of seven and five; and we may analyse
our conception of such a possible sum as long as we will, still we
shall never discover in it the notion of twelve. We must go beyond
these conceptions, and have recourse to an intuition which corresponds
to one of the two—our five fingers, for example, or like Segner in his
Arithmetic five points, and so by degrees, add the units contained in
the five given in the intuition, to the conception of seven. For I
first take the number 7, and, for the conception of 5 calling in the
aid of the fingers of my hand as objects of intuition, I add the units,
which I before took together to make up the number 5, gradually now by
means of the material image my hand, to the number 7, and by this
process, I at length see the number 12 arise. That 7 should be added to
5, I have certainly cogitated in my conception of a sum = 7 + 5, but
not that this sum was equal to 12. Arithmetical propositions are
therefore always synthetical, of which we may become more clearly
convinced by trying large numbers. For it will thus become quite
evident that, turn and twist our conceptions as we may, it is
impossible, without having recourse to intuition, to arrive at the sum
total or product by means of the mere analysis of our conceptions. Just
as little is any principle of pure geometry analytical. “A straight
line between two points is the shortest,” is a synthetical proposition.
For my conception of straight contains no notion of quantity, but is
merely qualitative. The conception of the shortest is therefore fore
wholly an addition, and by no analysis can it be extracted from our
conception of a straight line. Intuition must therefore here lend its
aid, by means of which, and thus only, our synthesis is possible.
Some few principles preposited by geometricians are, indeed, really
analytical, and depend on the principle of contradiction. They serve,
however, like identical propositions, as links in the chain of method,
not as principles—for example, a = a, the whole is equal to itself, or
(a+b) —> a, the whole is greater than its part. And yet even these
principles themselves, though they derive their validity from pure
conceptions, are only admitted in mathematics because they can be
presented in intuition. What causes us here commonly to believe that
the predicate of such apodeictic judgements is already contained in our
conception, and that the judgement is therefore analytical, is merely
the equivocal nature of the expression. We must join in thought a
certain predicate to a given conception, and this necessity cleaves
already to the conception. But the question is, not what we must join
in thought to the given conception, but what we really think therein,
though only obscurely, and then it becomes manifest that the predicate
pertains to these conceptions, necessarily indeed, yet not as thought
in the conception itself, but by virtue of an intuition, which must be
added to the conception.
2. The science of natural philosophy (physics) contains in itself
synthetical judgements à priori, as principles. I shall adduce two
propositions. For instance, the proposition, “In all changes of the
material world, the quantity of matter remains unchanged”; or, that,
“In all communication of motion, action and reaction must always be
equal.” In both of these, not only is the necessity, and therefore
their origin à priori clear, but also that they are synthetical
propositions. For in the conception of matter, I do not cogitate its
permanency, but merely its presence in space, which it fills. I
therefore really go out of and beyond the conception of matter, in
order to think on to it something à priori, which I did not think in
it. The proposition is therefore not analytical, but synthetical, and
nevertheless conceived à priori; and so it is with regard to the other
propositions of the pure part of natural philosophy.
3. As to metaphysics, even if we look upon it merely as an attempted
science, yet, from the nature of human reason, an indispensable one, we
find that it must contain synthetical propositions à priori. It is not
merely the duty of metaphysics to dissect, and thereby analytically to
illustrate the conceptions which we form à priori of things; but we
seek to widen the range of our à priori knowledge. For this purpose, we
must avail ourselves of such principles as add something to the
original conception—something not identical with, nor contained in it,
and by means of synthetical judgements à priori, leave far behind us
the limits of experience; for example, in the proposition, “the world
must have a beginning,” and such like. Thus metaphysics, according to
the proper aim of the science, consists merely of synthetical
propositions à priori.
VI. The Universal Problem of Pure Reason.
It is extremely advantageous to be able to bring a number of
investigations under the formula of a single problem. For in this
manner, we not only facilitate our own labour, inasmuch as we define it
clearly to ourselves, but also render it more easy for others to decide
whether we have done justice to our undertaking. The proper problem of
pure reason, then, is contained in the question: “How are synthetical
judgements à priori possible?”
That metaphysical science has hitherto remained in so vacillating a
state of uncertainty and contradiction, is only to be attributed to the
fact that this great problem, and perhaps even the difference between
analytical and synthetical judgements, did not sooner suggest itself to
philosophers. Upon the solution of this problem, or upon sufficient
proof of the impossibility of synthetical knowledge à priori, depends
the existence or downfall of the science of metaphysics. Among
philosophers, David Hume came the nearest of all to this problem; yet
it never acquired in his mind sufficient precision, nor did he regard
the question in its universality. On the contrary, he stopped short at
the synthetical proposition of the connection of an effect with its
cause (principium causalitatis), insisting that such proposition à
priori was impossible. According to his conclusions, then, all that we
term metaphysical science is a mere delusion, arising from the fancied
insight of reason into that which is in truth borrowed from experience,
and to which habit has given the appearance of necessity. Against this
assertion, destructive to all pure philosophy, he would have been
guarded, had he had our problem before his eyes in its universality.
For he would then have perceived that, according to his own argument,
there likewise could not be any pure mathematical science, which
assuredly cannot exist without synthetical propositions à priori—an
absurdity from which his good understanding must have saved him.
In the solution of the above problem is at the same time comprehended
the possibility of the use of pure reason in the foundation and
construction of all sciences which contain theoretical knowledge à
priori of objects, that is to say, the answer to the following
questions:
How is pure mathematical science possible?
How is pure natural science possible?
Respecting these sciences, as they do certainly exist, it may with
propriety be asked, how they are possible?—for that they must be
possible is shown by the fact of their really existing.[9] But as to
metaphysics, the miserable progress it has hitherto made, and the fact
that of no one system yet brought forward, far as regards its true aim,
can it be said that this science really exists, leaves any one at
liberty to doubt with reason the very possibility of its existence.
[9] As to the existence of pure natural science, or physics, perhaps
many may still express doubts. But we have only to look at the
different propositions which are commonly treated of at the
commencement of proper (empirical) physical science—those, for
example, relating to the permanence of the same quantity of matter,
the vis inertiae, the equality of action and reaction, etc.—to be soon
convinced that they form a science of pure physics (physica pura, or
rationalis), which well deserves to be separately exposed as a special
science, in its whole extent, whether that be great or confined.
Yet, in a certain sense, this kind of knowledge must unquestionably be
looked upon as given; in other words, metaphysics must be considered as
really existing, if not as a science, nevertheless as a natural
disposition of the human mind (metaphysica naturalis). For human
reason, without any instigations imputable to the mere vanity of great
knowledge, unceasingly progresses, urged on by its own feeling of need,
towards such questions as cannot be answered by any empirical
application of reason, or principles derived therefrom; and so there
has ever really existed in every man some system of metaphysics. It
will always exist, so soon as reason awakes to the exercise of its
power of speculation. And now the question arises: “How is metaphysics,
as a natural disposition, possible?” In other words, how, from the
nature of universal human reason, do those questions arise which pure
reason proposes to itself, and which it is impelled by its own feeling
of need to answer as well as it can?
But as in all the attempts hitherto made to answer the questions which
reason is prompted by its very nature to propose to itself, for
example, whether the world had a beginning, or has existed from
eternity, it has always met with unavoidable contradictions, we must
not rest satisfied with the mere natural disposition of the mind to
metaphysics, that is, with the existence of the faculty of pure reason,
whence, indeed, some sort of metaphysical system always arises; but it
must be possible to arrive at certainty in regard to the question
whether we know or do not know the things of which metaphysics treats.
We must be able to arrive at a decision on the subjects of its
questions, or on the ability or inability of reason to form any
judgement respecting them; and therefore either to extend with
confidence the bounds of our pure reason, or to set strictly defined
and safe limits to its action. This last question, which arises out of
the above universal problem, would properly run thus: “How is
metaphysics possible as a science?”
Thus, the critique of reason leads at last, naturally and necessarily,
to science; and, on the other hand, the dogmatical use of reason
without criticism leads to groundless assertions, against which others
equally specious can always be set, thus ending unavoidably in
scepticism.
Besides, this science cannot be of great and formidable prolixity,
because it has not to do with objects of reason, the variety of which
is inexhaustible, but merely with Reason herself and her problems;
problems which arise out of her own bosom, and are not proposed to her
by the nature of outward things, but by her own nature. And when once
Reason has previously become able completely to understand her own
power in regard to objects which she meets with in experience, it will
be easy to determine securely the extent and limits of her attempted
application to objects beyond the confines of experience.
We may and must, therefore, regard the attempts hitherto made to
establish metaphysical science dogmatically as non-existent. For what
of analysis, that is, mere dissection of conceptions, is contained in
one or other, is not the aim of, but only a preparation for metaphysics
proper, which has for its object the extension, by means of synthesis,
of our à priori knowledge. And for this purpose, mere analysis is of
course useless, because it only shows what is contained in these
conceptions, but not how we arrive, à priori, at them; and this it is
her duty to show, in order to be able afterwards to determine their
valid use in regard to all objects of experience, to all knowledge in
general. But little self-denial, indeed, is needed to give up these
pretensions, seeing the undeniable, and in the dogmatic mode of
procedure, inevitable contradictions of Reason with herself, have long
since ruined the reputation of every system of metaphysics that has
appeared up to this time. It will require more firmness to remain
undeterred by difficulty from within, and opposition from without, from
endeavouring, by a method quite opposed to all those hitherto followed,
to further the growth and fruitfulness of a science indispensable to
human reason—a science from which every branch it has borne may be cut
away, but whose roots remain indestructible.
VII. Idea and Division of a Particular Science, under the Name of a
Critique of Pure Reason.
From all that has been said, there results the idea of a particular
science, which may be called the Critique of Pure Reason. For reason is
the faculty which furnishes us with the principles of knowledge à
priori. Hence, pure reason is the faculty which contains the principles
of cognizing anything absolutely à priori. An organon of pure reason
would be a compendium of those principles according to which alone all
pure cognitions à priori can be obtained. The completely extended
application of such an organon would afford us a system of pure reason.
As this, however, is demanding a great deal, and it is yet doubtful
whether any extension of our knowledge be here possible, or, if so, in
what cases; we can regard a science of the mere criticism of pure
reason, its sources and limits, as the propædeutic to a system of pure
reason. Such a science must not be called a doctrine, but only a
critique of pure reason; and its use, in regard to speculation, would
be only negative, not to enlarge the bounds of, but to purify, our
reason, and to shield it against error—which alone is no little gain. I
apply the term transcendental to all knowledge which is not so much
occupied with objects as with the mode of our cognition of these
objects, so far as this mode of cognition is possible à priori. A
system of such conceptions would be called transcendental philosophy.
But this, again, is still beyond the bounds of our present essay. For
as such a science must contain a complete exposition not only of our
synthetical à priori, but of our analytical à priori knowledge, it is
of too wide a range for our present purpose, because we do not require
to carry our analysis any farther than is necessary to understand, in
their full extent, the principles of synthesis à priori, with which
alone we have to do. This investigation, which we cannot properly call
a doctrine, but only a transcendental critique, because it aims not at
the enlargement, but at the correction and guidance, of our knowledge,
and is to serve as a touchstone of the worth or worthlessness of all
knowledge à priori, is the sole object of our present essay. Such a
critique is consequently, as far as possible, a preparation for an
organon; and if this new organon should be found to fail, at least for
a canon of pure reason, according to which the complete system of the
philosophy of pure reason, whether it extend or limit the bounds of
that reason, might one day be set forth both analytically and
synthetically. For that this is possible, nay, that such a system is
not of so great extent as to preclude the hope of its ever being
completed, is evident. For we have not here to do with the nature of
outward objects, which is infinite, but solely with the mind, which
judges of the nature of objects, and, again, with the mind only in
respect of its cognition à priori. And the object of our
investigations, as it is not to be sought without, but, altogether
within, ourselves, cannot remain concealed, and in all probability is
limited enough to be completely surveyed and fairly estimated,
according to its worth or worthlessness. Still less let the reader here
expect a critique of books and systems of pure reason; our present
object is exclusively a critique of the faculty of pure reason itself.
Only when we make this critique our foundation, do we possess a pure
touchstone for estimating the philosophical value of ancient and modern
writings on this subject; and without this criterion, the incompetent
historian or judge decides upon and corrects the groundless assertions
of others with his own, which have themselves just as little
foundation.
Transcendental philosophy is the idea of a science, for which the
Critique of Pure Reason must sketch the whole plan architectonically,
that is, from principles, with a full guarantee for the validity and
stability of all the parts which enter into the building. It is the
system of all the principles of pure reason. If this Critique itself
does not assume the title of transcendental philosophy, it is only
because, to be a complete system, it ought to contain a full analysis
of all human knowledge à priori. Our critique must, indeed, lay before
us a complete enumeration of all the radical conceptions which
constitute the said pure knowledge. But from the complete analysis of
these conceptions themselves, as also from a complete investigation of
those derived from them, it abstains with reason; partly because it
would be deviating from the end in view to occupy itself with this
analysis, since this process is not attended with the difficulty and
insecurity to be found in the synthesis, to which our critique is
entirely devoted, and partly because it would be inconsistent with the
unity of our plan to burden this essay with the vindication of the
completeness of such an analysis and deduction, with which, after all,
we have at present nothing to do. This completeness of the analysis of
these radical conceptions, as well as of the deduction from the
conceptions à priori which may be given by the analysis, we can,
however, easily attain, provided only that we are in possession of all
these radical conceptions, which are to serve as principles of the
synthesis, and that in respect of this main purpose nothing is wanting.
To the Critique of Pure Reason, therefore, belongs all that constitutes
transcendental philosophy; and it is the complete idea of
transcendental philosophy, but still not the science itself; because it
only proceeds so far with the analysis as is necessary to the power of
judging completely of our synthetical knowledge à priori.
The principal thing we must attend to, in the division of the parts of
a science like this, is that no conceptions must enter it which contain
aught empirical; in other words, that the knowledge à priori must be
completely pure. Hence, although the highest principles and fundamental
conceptions of morality are certainly cognitions à priori, yet they do
not belong to transcendental philosophy; because, though they certainly
do not lay the conceptions of pain, pleasure, desires, inclinations,
etc. (which are all of empirical origin), at the foundation of its
precepts, yet still into the conception of duty—as an obstacle to be
overcome, or as an incitement which should not be made into a
motive—these empirical conceptions must necessarily enter, in the
construction of a system of pure morality. Transcendental philosophy is
consequently a philosophy of the pure and merely speculative reason.
For all that is practical, so far as it contains motives, relates to
feelings, and these belong to empirical sources of cognition.
If we wish to divide this science from the universal point of view of a
science in general, it ought to comprehend, first, a Doctrine of the
Elements, and, secondly, a Doctrine of the Method of pure reason. Each
of these main divisions will have its subdivisions, the separate
reasons for which we cannot here particularize. Only so much seems
necessary, by way of introduction of premonition, that there are two
sources of human knowledge (which probably spring from a common, but to
us unknown root), namely, sense and understanding. By the former,
objects are given to us; by the latter, thought. So far as the faculty
of sense may contain representations à priori, which form the
conditions under which objects are given, in so far it belongs to
transcendental philosophy. The transcendental doctrine of sense must
form the first part of our science of elements, because the conditions
under which alone the objects of human knowledge are given must precede
those under which they are thought.
I. TRANSCENDENTAL DOCTRINE OF ELEMENTS.
FIRST PART. TRANSCENDENTAL ÆSTHETIC.
§ I. Introductory.
In whatsoever mode, or by whatsoever means, our knowledge may relate to
objects, it is at least quite clear that the only manner in which it
immediately relates to them is by means of an intuition. To this as the
indispensable groundwork, all thought points. But an intuition can take
place only in so far as the object is given to us. This, again, is only
possible, to man at least, on condition that the object affect the mind
in a certain manner. The capacity for receiving representations
(receptivity) through the mode in which we are affected by objects,
objects, is called sensibility. By means of sensibility, therefore,
objects are given to us, and it alone furnishes us with intuitions; by
the understanding they are thought, and from it arise conceptions. But
an thought must directly, or indirectly, by means of certain signs,
relate ultimately to intuitions; consequently, with us, to sensibility,
because in no other way can an object be given to us.
The effect of an object upon the faculty of representation, so far as
we are affected by the said object, is sensation. That sort of
intuition which relates to an object by means of sensation is called an
empirical intuition. The undetermined object of an empirical intuition
is called phenomenon. That which in the phenomenon corresponds to the
sensation, I term its matter; but that which effects that the content
of the phenomenon can be arranged under certain relations, I call its
form. But that in which our sensations are merely arranged, and by
which they are susceptible of assuming a certain form, cannot be itself
sensation. It is, then, the matter of all phenomena that is given to us
à posteriori; the form must lie ready à priori for them in the mind,
and consequently can be regarded separately from all sensation.
I call all representations pure, in the transcendental meaning of the
word, wherein nothing is met with that belongs to sensation. And
accordingly we find existing in the mind à priori, the pure form of
sensuous intuitions in general, in which all the manifold content of
the phenomenal world is arranged and viewed under certain relations.
This pure form of sensibility I shall call pure intuition. Thus, if I
take away from our representation of a body all that the understanding
thinks as belonging to it, as substance, force, divisibility, etc., and
also whatever belongs to sensation, as impenetrability, hardness,
colour, etc.; yet there is still something left us from this empirical
intuition, namely, extension and shape. These belong to pure intuition,
which exists à priori in the mind, as a mere form of sensibility, and
without any real object of the senses or any sensation.
The science of all the principles of sensibility à priori, I call
transcendental æsthetic.[10] There must, then, be such a science
forming the first part of the transcendental doctrine of elements, in
contradistinction to that part which contains the principles of pure
thought, and which is called transcendental logic.
[10] The Germans are the only people who at present use this word to
indicate what others call the critique of taste. At the foundation of
this term lies the disappointed hope, which the eminent analyst,
Baumgarten, conceived, of subjecting the criticism of the beautiful to
principles of reason, and so of elevating its rules into a science.
But his endeavours were vain. For the said rules or criteria are, in
respect to their chief sources, merely empirical, consequently never
can serve as determinate laws à priori, by which our judgement in
matters of taste is to be directed. It is rather our judgement which
forms the proper test as to the correctness of the principles. On this
account it is advisable to give up the use of the term as designating
the critique of taste, and to apply it solely to that doctrine, which
is true science—the science of the laws of sensibility—and thus come
nearer to the language and the sense of the ancients in their
well-known division of the objects of cognition into aiotheta kai
noeta, or to share it with speculative philosophy, and employ it
partly in a transcendental, partly in a psychological signification.
In the science of transcendental æsthetic accordingly, we shall first
isolate sensibility or the sensuous faculty, by separating from it all
that is annexed to its perceptions by the conceptions of understanding,
so that nothing be left but empirical intuition. In the next place we
shall take away from this intuition all that belongs to sensation, so
that nothing may remain but pure intuition, and the mere form of
phenomena, which is all that the sensibility can afford à priori. From
this investigation it will be found that there are two pure forms of
sensuous intuition, as principles of knowledge à priori, namely, space
and time. To the consideration of these we shall now proceed.
SECTION I. Of Space.
§ 2. Metaphysical Exposition of this Conception.
By means of the external sense (a property of the mind), we represent
to ourselves objects as without us, and these all in space. Herein
alone are their shape, dimensions, and relations to each other
determined or determinable. The internal sense, by means of which the
mind contemplates itself or its internal state, gives, indeed, no
intuition of the soul as an object; yet there is nevertheless a
determinate form, under which alone the contemplation of our internal
state is possible, so that all which relates to the inward
determinations of the mind is represented in relations of time. Of time
we cannot have any external intuition, any more than we can have an
internal intuition of space. What then are time and space? Are they
real existences? Or, are they merely relations or determinations of
things, such, however, as would equally belong to these things in
themselves, though they should never become objects of intuition; or,
are they such as belong only to the form of intuition, and consequently
to the subjective constitution of the mind, without which these
predicates of time and space could not be attached to any object? In
order to become informed on these points, we shall first give an
exposition of the conception of space. By exposition, I mean the clear,
though not detailed, representation of that which belongs to a
conception; and an exposition is metaphysical when it contains that
which represents the conception as given à priori.
1. Space is not a conception which has been derived from outward
experiences. For, in order that certain sensations may relate to
something without me (that is, to something which occupies a different
part of space from that in which I am); in like manner, in order that I
may represent them not merely as without, of, and near to each other,
but also in separate places, the representation of space must already
exist as a foundation. Consequently, the representation of space cannot
be borrowed from the relations of external phenomena through
experience; but, on the contrary, this external experience is itself
only possible through the said antecedent representation.
2. Space then is a necessary representation à priori, which serves for
the foundation of all external intuitions. We never can imagine or make
a representation to ourselves of the non-existence of space, though we
may easily enough think that no objects are found in it. It must,
therefore, be considered as the condition of the possibility of
phenomena, and by no means as a determination dependent on them, and is
a representation à priori, which necessarily supplies the basis for
external phenomena.
3. Space is no discursive, or as we say, general conception of the
relations of things, but a pure intuition. For, in the first place, we
can only represent to ourselves one space, and, when we talk of divers
spaces, we mean only parts of one and the same space. Moreover, these
parts cannot antecede this one all-embracing space, as the component
parts from which the aggregate can be made up, but can be cogitated
only as existing in it. Space is essentially one, and multiplicity in
it, consequently the general notion of spaces, of this or that space,
depends solely upon limitations. Hence it follows that an à priori
intuition (which is not empirical) lies at the root of all our
conceptions of space. Thus, moreover, the principles of geometry—for
example, that “in a triangle, two sides together are greater than the
third,” are never deduced from general conceptions of line and
triangle, but from intuition, and this à priori, with apodeictic
certainty.
4. Space is represented as an infinite given quantity. Now every
conception must indeed be considered as a representation which is
contained in an infinite multitude of different possible
representations, which, therefore, comprises these under itself; but no
conception, as such, can be so conceived, as if it contained within
itself an infinite multitude of representations. Nevertheless, space is
so conceived of, for all parts of space are equally capable of being
produced to infinity. Consequently, the original representation of
space is an intuition à priori, and not a conception.
§ 3. Transcendental Exposition of the Conception of Space.
By a transcendental exposition, I mean the explanation of a conception,
as a principle, whence can be discerned the possibility of other
synthetical à priori cognitions. For this purpose, it is requisite,
firstly, that such cognitions do really flow from the given conception;
and, secondly, that the said cognitions are only possible under the
presupposition of a given mode of explaining this conception.
Geometry is a science which determines the properties of space
synthetically, and yet à priori. What, then, must be our representation
of space, in order that such a cognition of it may be possible? It must
be originally intuition, for from a mere conception, no propositions
can be deduced which go out beyond the conception, and yet this happens
in geometry. (Introd. V.) But this intuition must be found in the mind
à priori, that is, before any perception of objects, consequently must
be pure, not empirical, intuition. For geometrical principles are
always apodeictic, that is, united with the consciousness of their
necessity, as: “Space has only three dimensions.” But propositions of
this kind cannot be empirical judgements, nor conclusions from them.
(Introd. II.) Now, how can an external intuition anterior to objects
themselves, and in which our conception of objects can be determined à
priori, exist in the human mind? Obviously not otherwise than in so far
as it has its seat in the subject only, as the formal capacity of the
subject’s being affected by objects, and thereby of obtaining immediate
representation, that is, intuition; consequently, only as the form of
the external sense in general.
Thus it is only by means of our explanation that the possibility of
geometry, as a synthetical science à priori, becomes comprehensible.
Every mode of explanation which does not show us this possibility,
although in appearance it may be similar to ours, can with the utmost
certainty be distinguished from it by these marks.
§ 4. Conclusions from the foregoing Conceptions.
(a) Space does not represent any property of objects as things in
themselves, nor does it represent them in their relations to each
other; in other words, space does not represent to us any determination
of objects such as attaches to the objects themselves, and would
remain, even though all subjective conditions of the intuition were
abstracted. For neither absolute nor relative determinations of objects
can be intuited prior to the existence of the things to which they
belong, and therefore not à priori.
(b) Space is nothing else than the form of all phenomena of the
external sense, that is, the subjective condition of the sensibility,
under which alone external intuition is possible. Now, because the
receptivity or capacity of the subject to be affected by objects
necessarily antecedes all intuitions of these objects, it is easily
understood how the form of all phenomena can be given in the mind
previous to all actual perceptions, therefore à priori, and how it, as
a pure intuition, in which all objects must be determined, can contain
principles of the relations of these objects prior to all experience.
It is therefore from the human point of view only that we can speak of
space, extended objects, etc. If we depart from the subjective
condition, under which alone we can obtain external intuition, or, in
other words, by means of which we are affected by objects, the
representation of space has no meaning whatsoever. This predicate is
only applicable to things in so far as they appear to us, that is, are
objects of sensibility. The constant form of this receptivity, which we
call sensibility, is a necessary condition of all relations in which
objects can be intuited as existing without us, and when abstraction of
these objects is made, is a pure intuition, to which we give the name
of space. It is clear that we cannot make the special conditions of
sensibility into conditions of the possibility of things, but only of
the possibility of their existence as far as they are phenomena. And so
we may correctly say that space contains all which can appear to us
externally, but not all things considered as things in themselves, be
they intuited or not, or by whatsoever subject one will. As to the
intuitions of other thinking beings, we cannot judge whether they are
or are not bound by the same conditions which limit our own intuition,
and which for us are universally valid. If we join the limitation of a
judgement to the conception of the subject, then the judgement will
possess unconditioned validity. For example, the proposition, “All
objects are beside each other in space,” is valid only under the
limitation that these things are taken as objects of our sensuous
intuition. But if I join the condition to the conception and say, “All
things, as external phenomena, are beside each other in space,” then
the rule is valid universally, and without any limitation. Our
expositions, consequently, teach the reality (i.e., the objective
validity) of space in regard of all which can be presented to us
externally as object, and at the same time also the ideality of space
in regard to objects when they are considered by means of reason as
things in themselves, that is, without reference to the constitution of
our sensibility. We maintain, therefore, the empirical reality of space
in regard to all possible external experience, although we must admit
its transcendental ideality; in other words, that it is nothing, so
soon as we withdraw the condition upon which the possibility of all
experience depends and look upon space as something that belongs to
things in themselves.
But, with the exception of space, there is no representation,
subjective and referring to something external to us, which could be
called objective à priori. For there are no other subjective
representations from which we can deduce synthetical propositions à
priori, as we can from the intuition of space. (See § 3.) Therefore, to
speak accurately, no ideality whatever belongs to these, although they
agree in this respect with the representation of space, that they
belong merely to the subjective nature of the mode of sensuous
perception; such a mode, for example, as that of sight, of hearing, and
of feeling, by means of the sensations of colour, sound, and heat, but
which, because they are only sensations and not intuitions, do not of
themselves give us the cognition of any object, least of all, an à
priori cognition. My purpose, in the above remark, is merely this: to
guard any one against illustrating the asserted ideality of space by
examples quite insufficient, for example, by colour, taste, etc.; for
these must be contemplated not as properties of things, but only as
changes in the subject, changes which may be different in different
men. For, in such a case, that which is originally a mere phenomenon, a
rose, for example, is taken by the empirical understanding for a thing
in itself, though to every different eye, in respect of its colour, it
may appear different. On the contrary, the transcendental conception of
phenomena in space is a critical admonition, that, in general, nothing
which is intuited in space is a thing in itself, and that space is not
a form which belongs as a property to things; but that objects are
quite unknown to us in themselves, and what we call outward objects,
are nothing else but mere representations of our sensibility, whose
form is space, but whose real correlate, the thing in itself, is not
known by means of these representations, nor ever can be, but
respecting which, in experience, no inquiry is ever made.
SECTION II. Of Time.
§ 5. Metaphysical Exposition of this Conception.
1. Time is not an empirical conception. For neither coexistence nor
succession would be perceived by us, if the representation of time did
not exist as a foundation à priori. Without this presupposition we
could not represent to ourselves that things exist together at one and
the same time, or at different times, that is, contemporaneously, or in
succession.
2. Time is a necessary representation, lying at the foundation of all
our intuitions. With regard to phenomena in general, we cannot think
away time from them, and represent them to ourselves as out of and
unconnected with time, but we can quite well represent to ourselves
time void of phenomena. Time is therefore given à priori. In it alone
is all reality of phenomena possible. These may all be annihilated in
thought, but time itself, as the universal condition of their
possibility, cannot be so annulled.
3. On this necessity à priori is also founded the possibility of
apodeictic principles of the relations of time, or axioms of time in
general, such as: “Time has only one dimension,” “Different times are
not coexistent but successive” (as different spaces are not successive
but coexistent). These principles cannot be derived from experience,
for it would give neither strict universality, nor apodeictic
certainty. We should only be able to say, “so common experience teaches
us,” but not “it must be so.” They are valid as rules, through which,
in general, experience is possible; and they instruct us respecting
experience, and not by means of it.
4. Time is not a discursive, or as it is called, general conception,
but a pure form of the sensuous intuition. Different times are merely
parts of one and the same time. But the representation which can only
be given by a single object is an intuition. Besides, the proposition
that different times cannot be coexistent could not be derived from a
general conception. For this proposition is synthetical, and therefore
cannot spring out of conceptions alone. It is therefore contained
immediately in the intuition and representation of time.
5. The infinity of time signifies nothing more than that every
determined quantity of time is possible only through limitations of one
time lying at the foundation. Consequently, the original
representation, time, must be given as unlimited. But as the
determinate representation of the parts of time and of every quantity
of an object can only be obtained by limitation, the complete
representation of time must not be furnished by means of conceptions,
for these contain only partial representations. Conceptions, on the
contrary, must have immediate intuition for their basis.
§ 6 Transcendental Exposition of the Conception of Time.
I may here refer to what is said above (§ 5, 3), where, for or sake of
brevity, I have placed under the head of metaphysical exposition, that
which is properly transcendental. Here I shall add that the conception
of change, and with it the conception of motion, as change of place, is
possible only through and in the representation of time; that if this
representation were not an intuition (internal) à priori, no
conception, of whatever kind, could render comprehensible the
possibility of change, in other words, of a conjunction of
contradictorily opposed predicates in one and the same object, for
example, the presence of a thing in a place and the non-presence of the
same thing in the same place. It is only in time that it is possible to
meet with two contradictorily opposed determinations in one thing, that
is, after each other. Thus our conception of time explains the
possibility of so much synthetical knowledge à priori, as is exhibited
in the general doctrine of motion, which is not a little fruitful.
§ 7. Conclusions from the above Conceptions.
(a) Time is not something which subsists of itself, or which inheres in
things as an objective determination, and therefore remains, when
abstraction is made of the subjective conditions of the intuition of
things. For in the former case, it would be something real, yet without
presenting to any power of perception any real object. In the latter
case, as an order or determination inherent in things themselves, it
could not be antecedent to things, as their condition, nor discerned or
intuited by means of synthetical propositions à priori. But all this is
quite possible when we regard time as merely the subjective condition
under which all our intuitions take place. For in that case, this form
of the inward intuition can be represented prior to the objects, and
consequently à priori.
(b) Time is nothing else than the form of the internal sense, that is,
of the intuitions of self and of our internal state. For time cannot be
any determination of outward phenomena. It has to do neither with shape
nor position; on the contrary, it determines the relation of
representations in our internal state. And precisely because this
internal intuition presents to us no shape or form, we endeavour to
supply this want by analogies, and represent the course of time by a
line progressing to infinity, the content of which constitutes a series
which is only of one dimension; and we conclude from the properties of
this line as to all the properties of time, with this single exception,
that the parts of the line are coexistent, whilst those of time are
successive. From this it is clear also that the representation of time
is itself an intuition, because all its relations can be expressed in
an external intuition.
(c) Time is the formal condition à priori of all phenomena whatsoever.
Space, as the pure form of external intuition, is limited as a
condition à priori to external phenomena alone. On the other hand,
because all representations, whether they have or have not external
things for their objects, still in themselves, as determinations of the
mind, belong to our internal state; and because this internal state is
subject to the formal condition of the internal intuition, that is, to
time—time is a condition à priori of all phenomena whatsoever—the
immediate condition of all internal, and thereby the mediate condition
of all external phenomena. If I can say à priori, “All outward
phenomena are in space, and determined à priori according to the
relations of space,” I can also, from the principle of the internal
sense, affirm universally, “All phenomena in general, that is, all
objects of the senses, are in time and stand necessarily in relations
of time.”
If we abstract our internal intuition of ourselves and all external
intuitions, possible only by virtue of this internal intuition and
presented to us by our faculty of representation, and consequently take
objects as they are in themselves, then time is nothing. It is only of
objective validity in regard to phenomena, because these are things
which we regard as objects of our senses. It no longer objective we,
make abstraction of the sensuousness of our intuition, in other words,
of that mode of representation which is peculiar to us, and speak of
things in general. Time is therefore merely a subjective condition of
our (human) intuition (which is always sensuous, that is, so far as we
are affected by objects), and in itself, independently of the mind or
subject, is nothing. Nevertheless, in respect of all phenomena,
consequently of all things which come within the sphere of our
experience, it is necessarily objective. We cannot say, “All things are
in time,” because in this conception of things in general, we abstract
and make no mention of any sort of intuition of things. But this is the
proper condition under which time belongs to our representation of
objects. If we add the condition to the conception, and say, “All
things, as phenomena, that is, objects of sensuous intuition, are in
time,” then the proposition has its sound objective validity and
universality à priori.
What we have now set forth teaches, therefore, the empirical reality of
time; that is, its objective validity in reference to all objects which
can ever be presented to our senses. And as our intuition is always
sensuous, no object ever can be presented to us in experience, which
does not come under the conditions of time. On the other hand, we deny
to time all claim to absolute reality; that is, we deny that it,
without having regard to the form of our sensuous intuition, absolutely
inheres in things as a condition or property. Such properties as belong
to objects as things in themselves never can be presented to us through
the medium of the senses. Herein consists, therefore, the
transcendental ideality of time, according to which, if we abstract the
subjective conditions of sensuous intuition, it is nothing, and cannot
be reckoned as subsisting or inhering in objects as things in
themselves, independently of its relation to our intuition. This
ideality, like that of space, is not to be proved or illustrated by
fallacious analogies with sensations, for this reason—that in such
arguments or illustrations, we make the presupposition that the
phenomenon, in which such and such predicates inhere, has objective
reality, while in this case we can only find such an objective reality
as is itself empirical, that is, regards the object as a mere
phenomenon. In reference to this subject, see the remark in Section I
(§ 4)
§ 8. Elucidation.
Against this theory, which grants empirical reality to time, but denies
to it absolute and transcendental reality, I have heard from
intelligent men an objection so unanimously urged that I conclude that
it must naturally present itself to every reader to whom these
considerations are novel. It runs thus: “Changes are real” (this the
continual change in our own representations demonstrates, even though
the existence of all external phenomena, together with their changes,
is denied). Now, changes are only possible in time, and therefore time
must be something real. But there is no difficulty in answering this. I
grant the whole argument. Time, no doubt, is something real, that is,
it is the real form of our internal intuition. It therefore has
subjective reality, in reference to our internal experience, that is, I
have really the representation of time and of my determinations
therein. Time, therefore, is not to be regarded as an object, but as
the mode of representation of myself as an object. But if I could
intuite myself, or be intuited by another being, without this condition
of sensibility, then those very determinations which we now represent
to ourselves as changes, would present to us a knowledge in which the
representation of time, and consequently of change, would not appear.
The empirical reality of time, therefore, remains, as the condition of
all our experience. But absolute reality, according to what has been
said above, cannot be granted it. Time is nothing but the form of our
internal intuition.[11] If we take away from it the special condition
of our sensibility, the conception of time also vanishes; and it
inheres not in the objects themselves, but solely in the subject (or
mind) which intuites them.
[11] I can indeed say “my representations follow one another, or are
successive”; but this means only that we are conscious of them as in a
succession, that is, according to the form of the internal sense.
Time, therefore, is not a thing in itself, nor is it any objective
determination pertaining to, or inherent in things.
But the reason why this objection is so unanimously brought against our
doctrine of time, and that too by disputants who cannot start any
intelligible arguments against the doctrine of the ideality of space,
is this—they have no hope of demonstrating apodeictically the absolute
reality of space, because the doctrine of idealism is against them,
according to which the reality of external objects is not capable of
any strict proof. On the other hand, the reality of the object of our
internal sense (that is, myself and my internal state) is clear
immediately through consciousness. The former—external objects in
space—might be a mere delusion, but the latter—the object of my
internal perception—is undeniably real. They do not, however, reflect
that both, without question of their reality as representations, belong
only to the genus phenomenon, which has always two aspects, the one,
the object considered as a thing in itself, without regard to the mode
of intuiting it, and the nature of which remains for this very reason
problematical, the other, the form of our intuition of the object,
which must be sought not in the object as a thing in itself, but in the
subject to which it appears—which form of intuition nevertheless
belongs really and necessarily to the phenomenal object.
Time and space are, therefore, two sources of knowledge, from which, à
priori, various synthetical cognitions can be drawn. Of this we find a
striking example in the cognitions of space and its relations, which
form the foundation of pure mathematics. They are the two pure forms of
all intuitions, and thereby make synthetical propositions à priori
possible. But these sources of knowledge being merely conditions of our
sensibility, do therefore, and as such, strictly determine their own
range and purpose, in that they do not and cannot present objects as
things in themselves, but are applicable to them solely in so far as
they are considered as sensuous phenomena. The sphere of phenomena is
the only sphere of their validity, and if we venture out of this, no
further objective use can be made of them. For the rest, this formal
reality of time and space leaves the validity of our empirical
knowledge unshaken; for our certainty in that respect is equally firm,
whether these forms necessarily inhere in the things themselves, or
only in our intuitions of them. On the other hand, those who maintain
the absolute reality of time and space, whether as essentially
subsisting, or only inhering, as modifications, in things, must find
themselves at utter variance with the principles of experience itself.
For, if they decide for the first view, and make space and time into
substances, this being the side taken by mathematical natural
philosophers, they must admit two self-subsisting nonentities, infinite
and eternal, which exist (yet without there being anything real) for
the purpose of containing in themselves everything that is real. If
they adopt the second view of inherence, which is preferred by some
metaphysical natural philosophers, and regard space and time as
relations (contiguity in space or succession in time), abstracted from
experience, though represented confusedly in this state of separation,
they find themselves in that case necessitated to deny the validity of
mathematical doctrines à priori in reference to real things (for
example, in space)—at all events their apodeictic certainty. For such
certainty cannot be found in an à posteriori proposition; and the
conceptions à priori of space and time are, according to this opinion,
mere creations of the imagination, having their source really in
experience, inasmuch as, out of relations abstracted from experience,
imagination has made up something which contains, indeed, general
statements of these relations, yet of which no application can be made
without the restrictions attached thereto by nature. The former of
these parties gains this advantage, that they keep the sphere of
phenomena free for mathematical science. On the other hand, these very
conditions (space and time) embarrass them greatly, when the
understanding endeavours to pass the limits of that sphere. The latter
has, indeed, this advantage, that the representations of space and time
do not come in their way when they wish to judge of objects, not as
phenomena, but merely in their relation to the understanding. Devoid,
however, of a true and objectively valid à priori intuition, they can
neither furnish any basis for the possibility of mathematical
cognitions à priori, nor bring the propositions of experience into
necessary accordance with those of mathematics. In our theory of the
true nature of these two original forms of the sensibility, both
difficulties are surmounted.
In conclusion, that transcendental æsthetic cannot contain any more
than these two elements—space and time, is sufficiently obvious from
the fact that all other conceptions appertaining to sensibility, even
that of motion, which unites in itself both elements, presuppose
something empirical. Motion, for example, presupposes the perception of
something movable. But space considered in itself contains nothing
movable, consequently motion must be something which is found in space
only through experience—in other words, an empirical datum. In like
manner, transcendental æsthetic cannot number the conception of change
among its data à priori; for time itself does not change, but only
something which is in time. To acquire the conception of change,
therefore, the perception of some existing object and of the succession
of its determinations, in one word, experience, is necessary.
§ 9. General Remarks on Transcendental Æsthetic.
I. In order to prevent any misunderstanding, it will be requisite, in
the first place, to recapitulate, as clearly as possible, what our
opinion is with respect to the fundamental nature of our sensuous
cognition in general. We have intended, then, to say that all our
intuition is nothing but the representation of phenomena; that the
things which we intuite, are not in themselves the same as our
representations of them in intuition, nor are their relations in
themselves so constituted as they appear to us; and that if we take
away the subject, or even only the subjective constitution of our
senses in general, then not only the nature and relations of objects in
space and time, but even space and time themselves disappear; and that
these, as phenomena, cannot exist in themselves, but only in us. What
may be the nature of objects considered as things in themselves and
without reference to the receptivity of our sensibility is quite
unknown to us. We know nothing more than our mode of perceiving them,
which is peculiar to us, and which, though not of necessity pertaining
to every animated being, is so to the whole human race. With this alone
we have to do. Space and time are the pure forms thereof; sensation the
matter. The former alone can we cognize à priori, that is, antecedent
to all actual perception; and for this reason such cognition is called
pure intuition. The latter is that in our cognition which is called
cognition à posteriori, that is, empirical intuition. The former
appertain absolutely and necessarily to our sensibility, of whatsoever
kind our sensations may be; the latter may be of very diversified
character. Supposing that we should carry our empirical intuition even
to the very highest degree of clearness, we should not thereby advance
one step nearer to a knowledge of the constitution of objects as things
in themselves. For we could only, at best, arrive at a complete
cognition of our own mode of intuition, that is of our sensibility, and
this always under the conditions originally attaching to the subject,
namely, the conditions of space and time; while the question: “What are
objects considered as things in themselves?” remains unanswerable even
after the most thorough examination of the phenomenal world.
To say, then, that all our sensibility is nothing but the confused
representation of things containing exclusively that which belongs to
them as things in themselves, and this under an accumulation of
characteristic marks and partial representations which we cannot
distinguish in consciousness, is a falsification of the conception of
sensibility and phenomenization, which renders our whole doctrine
thereof empty and useless. The difference between a confused and a
clear representation is merely logical and has nothing to do with
content. No doubt the conception of right, as employed by a sound
understanding, contains all that the most subtle investigation could
unfold from it, although, in the ordinary practical use of the word, we
are not conscious of the manifold representations comprised in the
conception. But we cannot for this reason assert that the ordinary
conception is a sensuous one, containing a mere phenomenon, for right
cannot appear as a phenomenon; but the conception of it lies in the
understanding, and represents a property (the moral property) of
actions, which belongs to them in themselves. On the other hand, the
representation in intuition of a body contains nothing which could
belong to an object considered as a thing in itself, but merely the
phenomenon or appearance of something, and the mode in which we are
affected by that appearance; and this receptivity of our faculty of
cognition is called sensibility, and remains toto caelo different from
the cognition of an object in itself, even though we should examine the
content of the phenomenon to the very bottom.
It must be admitted that the Leibnitz-Wolfian philosophy has assigned
an entirely erroneous point of view to all investigations into the
nature and origin of our cognitions, inasmuch as it regards the
distinction between the sensuous and the intellectual as merely
logical, whereas it is plainly transcendental, and concerns not merely
the clearness or obscurity, but the content and origin of both. For the
faculty of sensibility not only does not present us with an indistinct
and confused cognition of objects as things in themselves, but, in
fact, gives us no knowledge of these at all. On the contrary, so soon
as we abstract in thought our own subjective nature, the object
represented, with the properties ascribed to it by sensuous intuition,
entirely disappears, because it was only this subjective nature that
determined the form of the object as a phenomenon.
In phenomena, we commonly, indeed, distinguish that which essentially
belongs to the intuition of them, and is valid for the sensuous faculty
of every human being, from that which belongs to the same intuition
accidentally, as valid not for the sensuous faculty in general, but for
a particular state or organization of this or that sense. Accordingly,
we are accustomed to say that the former is a cognition which
represents the object itself, whilst the latter presents only a
particular appearance or phenomenon thereof. This distinction, however,
is only empirical. If we stop here (as is usual), and do not regard the
empirical intuition as itself a mere phenomenon (as we ought to do), in
which nothing that can appertain to a thing in itself is to be found,
our transcendental distinction is lost, and we believe that we cognize
objects as things in themselves, although in the whole range of the
sensuous world, investigate the nature of its objects as profoundly as
we may, we have to do with nothing but phenomena. Thus, we call the
rainbow a mere appearance of phenomenon in a sunny shower, and the
rain, the reality or thing in itself; and this is right enough, if we
understand the latter conception in a merely physical sense, that is,
as that which in universal experience, and under whatever conditions of
sensuous perception, is known in intuition to be so and so determined,
and not otherwise. But if we consider this empirical datum generally,
and inquire, without reference to its accordance with all our senses,
whether there can be discovered in it aught which represents an object
as a thing in itself (the raindrops of course are not such, for they
are, as phenomena, empirical objects), the question of the relation of
the representation to the object is transcendental; and not only are
the raindrops mere phenomena, but even their circular form, nay, the
space itself through which they fall, is nothing in itself, but both
are mere modifications or fundamental dispositions of our sensuous
intuition, whilst the transcendental object remains for us utterly
unknown.
The second important concern of our æsthetic is that it does not obtain
favour merely as a plausible hypothesis, but possess as undoubted a
character of certainty as can be demanded of any theory which is to
serve for an organon. In order fully to convince the reader of this
certainty, we shall select a case which will serve to make its validity
apparent, and also to illustrate what has been said in § 3.
Suppose, then, that space and time are in themselves objective, and
conditions of the—possibility of objects as things in themselves. In
the first place, it is evident that both present us, with very many
apodeictic and synthetic propositions à priori, but especially
space—and for this reason we shall prefer it for investigation at
present. As the propositions of geometry are cognized synthetically à
priori, and with apodeictic certainty, I inquire: Whence do you obtain
propositions of this kind, and on what basis does the understanding
rest, in order to arrive at such absolutely necessary and universally
valid truths?
There is no other way than through intuitions or conceptions, as such;
and these are given either à priori or à posteriori. The latter,
namely, empirical conceptions, together with the empirical intuition on
which they are founded, cannot afford any synthetical proposition,
except such as is itself also empirical, that is, a proposition of
experience. But an empirical proposition cannot possess the qualities
of necessity and absolute universality, which, nevertheless, are the
characteristics of all geometrical propositions. As to the first and
only means to arrive at such cognitions, namely, through mere
conceptions or intuitions à priori, it is quite clear that from mere
conceptions no synthetical cognitions, but only analytical ones, can be
obtained. Take, for example, the proposition: “Two straight lines
cannot enclose a space, and with these alone no figure is possible,”
and try to deduce it from the conception of a straight line and the
number two; or take the proposition: “It is possible to construct a
figure with three straight lines,” and endeavour, in like manner, to
deduce it from the mere conception of a straight line and the number
three. All your endeavours are in vain, and you find yourself forced to
have recourse to intuition, as, in fact, geometry always does. You
therefore give yourself an object in intuition. But of what kind is
this intuition? Is it a pure à priori, or is it an empirical intuition?
If the latter, then neither an universally valid, much less an
apodeictic proposition can arise from it, for experience never can give
us any such proposition. You must, therefore, give yourself an object à
priori in intuition, and upon that ground your synthetical proposition.
Now if there did not exist within you a faculty of intuition à priori;
if this subjective condition were not in respect to its form also the
universal condition à priori under which alone the object of this
external intuition is itself possible; if the object (that is, the
triangle) were something in itself, without relation to you the
subject; how could you affirm that that which lies necessarily in your
subjective conditions in order to construct a triangle, must also
necessarily belong to the triangle in itself? For to your conceptions
of three lines, you could not add anything new (that is, the figure);
which, therefore, must necessarily be found in the object, because the
object is given before your cognition, and not by means of it. If,
therefore, space (and time also) were not a mere form of your
intuition, which contains conditions à priori, under which alone things
can become external objects for you, and without which subjective
conditions the objects are in themselves nothing, you could not
construct any synthetical proposition whatsoever regarding external
objects. It is therefore not merely possible or probable, but
indubitably certain, that space and time, as the necessary conditions
of all our external and internal experience, are merely subjective
conditions of all our intuitions, in relation to which all objects are
therefore mere phenomena, and not things in themselves, presented to us
in this particular manner. And for this reason, in respect to the form
of phenomena, much may be said à priori, whilst of the thing in itself,
which may lie at the foundation of these phenomena, it is impossible to
say anything.
II. In confirmation of this theory of the ideality of the external as
well as internal sense, consequently of all objects of sense, as mere
phenomena, we may especially remark that all in our cognition that
belongs to intuition contains nothing more than mere relations. (The
feelings of pain and pleasure, and the will, which are not cognitions,
are excepted.) The relations, to wit, of place in an intuition
(extension), change of place (motion), and laws according to which this
change is determined (moving forces). That, however, which is present
in this or that place, or any operation going on, or result taking
place in the things themselves, with the exception of change of place,
is not given to us by intuition. Now by means of mere relations, a
thing cannot be known in itself; and it may therefore be fairly
concluded, that, as through the external sense nothing but mere
representations of relations are given us, the said external sense in
its representation can contain only the relation of the object to the
subject, but not the essential nature of the object as a thing in
itself.
The same is the case with the internal intuition, not only because, in
the internal intuition, the representation of the external senses
constitutes the material with which the mind is occupied; but because
time, in which we place, and which itself antecedes the consciousness
of, these representations in experience, and which, as the formal
condition of the mode according to which objects are placed in the
mind, lies at the foundation of them, contains relations of the
successive, the coexistent, and of that which always must be coexistent
with succession, the permanent. Now that which, as representation, can
antecede every exercise of thought (of an object), is intuition; and
when it contains nothing but relations, it is the form of the
intuition, which, as it presents us with no representation, except in
so far as something is placed in the mind, can be nothing else than the
mode in which the mind is affected by its own activity, to wit—its
presenting to itself representations, consequently the mode in which
the mind is affected by itself; that is, it can be nothing but an
internal sense in respect to its form. Everything that is represented
through the medium of sense is so far phenomenal; consequently, we must
either refuse altogether to admit an internal sense, or the subject,
which is the object of that sense, could only be represented by it as
phenomenon, and not as it would judge of itself, if its intuition were
pure spontaneous activity, that is, were intellectual. The difficulty
here lies wholly in the question: How can the subject have an internal
intuition of itself? But this difficulty is common to every theory. The
consciousness of self (apperception) is the simple representation of
the “ego”; and if by means of that representation alone, all the
manifold representations in the subject were spontaneously given, then
our internal intuition would be intellectual. This consciousness in man
requires an internal perception of the manifold representations which
are previously given in the subject; and the manner in which these
representations are given in the mind without spontaneity, must, on
account of this difference (the want of spontaneity), be called
sensibility. If the faculty of self-consciousness is to apprehend what
lies in the mind, it must all act that and can in this way alone
produce an intuition of self. But the form of this intuition, which
lies in the original constitution of the mind, determines, in the
representation of time, the manner in which the manifold
representations are to combine themselves in the mind; since the
subject intuites itself, not as it would represent itself immediately
and spontaneously, but according to the manner in which the mind is
internally affected, consequently, as it appears, and not as it is.
III. When we say that the intuition of external objects, and also the
self-intuition of the subject, represent both, objects and subject, in
space and time, as they affect our senses, that is, as they appear—this
is by no means equivalent to asserting that these objects are mere
illusory appearances. For when we speak of things as phenomena, the
objects, nay, even the properties which we ascribe to them, are looked
upon as really given; only that, in so far as this or that property
depends upon the mode of intuition of the subject, in the relation of
the given object to the subject, the object as phenomenon is to be
distinguished from the object as a thing in itself. Thus I do not say
that bodies seem or appear to be external to me, or that my soul seems
merely to be given in my self-consciousness, although I maintain that
the properties of space and time, in conformity to which I set both, as
the condition of their existence, abide in my mode of intuition, and
not in the objects in themselves. It would be my own fault, if out of
that which I should reckon as phenomenon, I made mere illusory
appearance.[12] But this will not happen, because of our principle of
the ideality of all sensuous intuitions. On the contrary, if we ascribe
objective reality to these forms of representation, it becomes
impossible to avoid changing everything into mere appearance. For if we
regard space and time as properties, which must be found in objects as
things in themselves, as sine quibus non of the possibility of their
existence, and reflect on the absurdities in which we then find
ourselves involved, inasmuch as we are compelled to admit the existence
of two infinite things, which are nevertheless not substances, nor
anything really inhering in substances, nay, to admit that they are the
necessary conditions of the existence of all things, and moreover, that
they must continue to exist, although all existing things were
annihilated—we cannot blame the good Berkeley for degrading bodies to
mere illusory appearances. Nay, even our own existence, which would in
this case depend upon the self-existent reality of such a mere
nonentity as time, would necessarily be changed with it into mere
appearance—an absurdity which no one has as yet been guilty of.
[12] The predicates of the phenomenon can be affixed to the object
itself in relation to our sensuous faculty; for example, the red
colour or the perfume to the rose. But (illusory) appearance never can
be attributed as a predicate to an object, for this very reason, that
it attributes to this object in itself that which belongs to it only
in relation to our sensuous faculty, or to the subject in general,
e.g., the two handles which were formerly ascribed to Saturn. That
which is never to be found in the object itself, but always in the
relation of the object to the subject, and which moreover is
inseparable from our representation of the object, we denominate
phenomenon. Thus the predicates of space and time are rightly
attributed to objects of the senses as such, and in this there is no
illusion. On the contrary, if I ascribe redness of the rose as a thing
in itself, or to Saturn his handles, or extension to all external
objects, considered as things in themselves, without regarding the
determinate relation of these objects to the subject, and without
limiting my judgement to that relation—then, and then only, arises
illusion.
IV. In natural theology, where we think of an object—God—which never
can be an object of intuition to us, and even to himself can never be
an object of sensuous intuition, we carefully avoid attributing to his
intuition the conditions of space and time—and intuition all his
cognition must be, and not thought, which always includes limitation.
But with what right can we do this if we make them forms of objects as
things in themselves, and such, moreover, as would continue to exist as
à priori conditions of the existence of things, even though the things
themselves were annihilated? For as conditions of all existence in
general, space and time must be conditions of the existence of the
Supreme Being also. But if we do not thus make them objective forms of
all things, there is no other way left than to make them subjective
forms of our mode of intuition—external and internal; which is called
sensuous, because it is not primitive, that is, is not such as gives in
itself the existence of the object of the intuition (a mode of
intuition which, so far as we can judge, can belong only to the
Creator), but is dependent on the existence of the object, is possible,
therefore, only on condition that the representative faculty of the
subject is affected by the object.
It is, moreover, not necessary that we should limit the mode of
intuition in space and time to the sensuous faculty of man. It may well
be that all finite thinking beings must necessarily in this respect
agree with man (though as to this we cannot decide), but sensibility
does not on account of this universality cease to be sensibility, for
this very reason, that it is a deduced (intuitus derivativus), and not
an original (intuitus originarius), consequently not an intellectual
intuition, and this intuition, as such, for reasons above mentioned,
seems to belong solely to the Supreme Being, but never to a being
dependent, quoad its existence, as well as its intuition (which its
existence determines and limits relatively to given objects). This
latter remark, however, must be taken only as an illustration, and not
as any proof of the truth of our æsthetical theory.
§ 10. Conclusion of the Transcendental Æsthetic.
We have now completely before us one part of the solution of the grand
general problem of transcendental philosophy, namely, the question:
“How are synthetical propositions à priori possible?” That is to say,
we have shown that we are in possession of pure à priori intuitions,
namely, space and time, in which we find, when in a judgement à priori
we pass out beyond the given conception, something which is not
discoverable in that conception, but is certainly found à priori in the
intuition which corresponds to the conception, and can be united
synthetically with it. But the judgements which these pure intuitions
enable us to make, never reach farther than to objects of the senses,
and are valid only for objects of possible experience.
Second Part—TRANSCENDENTAL LOGIC
INTRODUCTION. Idea of a Transcendental Logic.
I. Of Logic in General.
Our knowledge springs from two main sources in the mind, first of which
is the faculty or power of receiving representations (receptivity for
impressions); the second is the power of cognizing by means of these
representations (spontaneity in the production of conceptions). Through
the first an object is given to us; through the second, it is, in
relation to the representation (which is a mere determination of the
mind), thought. Intuition and conceptions constitute, therefore, the
elements of all our knowledge, so that neither conceptions without an
intuition in some way corresponding to them, nor intuition without
conceptions, can afford us a cognition. Both are either pure or
empirical. They are empirical, when sensation (which presupposes the
actual presence of the object) is contained in them; and pure, when no
sensation is mixed with the representation. Sensations we may call the
matter of sensuous cognition. Pure intuition consequently contains
merely the form under which something is intuited, and pure conception
only the form of the thought of an object. Only pure intuitions and
pure conceptions are possible à priori; the empirical only à
posteriori.
We apply the term sensibility to the receptivity of the mind for
impressions, in so far as it is in some way affected; and, on the other
hand, we call the faculty of spontaneously producing representations,
or the spontaneity of cognition, understanding. Our nature is so
constituted that intuition with us never can be other than sensuous,
that is, it contains only the mode in which we are affected by objects.
On the other hand, the faculty of thinking the object of sensuous
intuition is the understanding. Neither of these faculties has a
preference over the other. Without the sensuous faculty no object would
be given to us, and without the understanding no object would be
thought. Thoughts without content are void; intuitions without
conceptions, blind. Hence it is as necessary for the mind to make its
conceptions sensuous (that is, to join to them the object in
intuition), as to make its intuitions intelligible (that is, to bring
them under conceptions). Neither of these faculties can exchange its
proper function. Understanding cannot intuite, and the sensuous faculty
cannot think. In no other way than from the united operation of both,
can knowledge arise. But no one ought, on this account, to overlook the
difference of the elements contributed by each; we have rather great
reason carefully to separate and distinguish them. We therefore
distinguish the science of the laws of sensibility, that is, æsthetic,
from the science of the laws of the understanding, that is, logic.
Now, logic in its turn may be considered as twofold—namely, as logic of
the general, or of the particular use of the understanding. The first
contains the absolutely necessary laws of thought, without which no use
whatsoever of the understanding is possible, and gives laws therefore
to the understanding, without regard to the difference of objects on
which it may be employed. The logic of the particular use of the
understanding contains the laws of correct thinking upon a particular
class of objects. The former may be called elemental logic—the latter,
the organon of this or that particular science. The latter is for the
most part employed in the schools, as a propædeutic to the sciences,
although, indeed, according to the course of human reason, it is the
last thing we arrive at, when the science has been already matured, and
needs only the finishing touches towards its correction and completion;
for our knowledge of the objects of our attempted science must be
tolerably extensive and complete before we can indicate the laws by
which a science of these objects can be established.
General logic is again either pure or applied. In the former, we
abstract all the empirical conditions under which the understanding is
exercised; for example, the influence of the senses, the play of the
fantasy or imagination, the laws of the memory, the force of habit, of
inclination, etc., consequently also, the sources of prejudice—in a
word, we abstract all causes from which particular cognitions arise,
because these causes regard the understanding under certain
circumstances of its application, and, to the knowledge of them
experience is required. Pure general logic has to do, therefore, merely
with pure à priori principles, and is a canon of understanding and
reason, but only in respect of the formal part of their use, be the
content what it may, empirical or transcendental. General logic is
called applied, when it is directed to the laws of the use of the
understanding, under the subjective empirical conditions which
psychology teaches us. It has therefore empirical principles, although,
at the same time, it is in so far general, that it applies to the
exercise of the understanding, without regard to the difference of
objects. On this account, moreover, it is neither a canon of the
understanding in general, nor an organon of a particular science, but
merely a cathartic of the human understanding.
In general logic, therefore, that part which constitutes pure logic
must be carefully distinguished from that which constitutes applied
(though still general) logic. The former alone is properly science,
although short and dry, as the methodical exposition of an elemental
doctrine of the understanding ought to be. In this, therefore,
logicians must always bear in mind two rules:
1. As general logic, it makes abstraction of all content of the
cognition of the understanding, and of the difference of objects, and
has to do with nothing but the mere form of thought.
2. As pure logic, it has no empirical principles, and consequently
draws nothing (contrary to the common persuasion) from psychology,
which therefore has no influence on the canon of the understanding. It
is a demonstrated doctrine, and everything in it must be certain
completely à priori.
What I called applied logic (contrary to the common acceptation of this
term, according to which it should contain certain exercises for the
scholar, for which pure logic gives the rules), is a representation of
the understanding, and of the rules of its necessary employment in
concreto, that is to say, under the accidental conditions of the
subject, which may either hinder or promote this employment, and which
are all given only empirically. Thus applied logic treats of attention,
its impediments and consequences, of the origin of error, of the state
of doubt, hesitation, conviction, etc., and to it is related pure
general logic in the same way that pure morality, which contains only
the necessary moral laws of a free will, is related to practical
ethics, which considers these laws under all the impediments of
feelings, inclinations, and passions to which men are more or less
subjected, and which never can furnish us with a true and demonstrated
science, because it, as well as applied logic, requires empirical and
psychological principles.
II. Of Transcendental Logic.
General logic, as we have seen, makes abstraction of all content of
cognition, that is, of all relation of cognition to its object, and
regards only the logical form in the relation of cognitions to each
other, that is, the form of thought in general. But as we have both
pure and empirical intuitions (as transcendental æsthetic proves), in
like manner a distinction might be drawn between pure and empirical
thought (of objects). In this case, there would exist a kind of logic,
in which we should not make abstraction of all content of cognition;
for or logic which should comprise merely the laws of pure thought (of
an object), would of course exclude all those cognitions which were of
empirical content. This kind of logic would also examine the origin of
our cognitions of objects, so far as that origin cannot be ascribed to
the objects themselves; while, on the contrary, general logic has
nothing to do with the origin of our cognitions, but contemplates our
representations, be they given primitively à priori in ourselves, or be
they only of empirical origin, solely according to the laws which the
understanding observes in employing them in the process of thought, in
relation to each other. Consequently, general logic treats of the form
of the understanding only, which can be applied to representations,
from whatever source they may have arisen.
And here I shall make a remark, which the reader must bear well in mind
in the course of the following considerations, to wit, that not every
cognition à priori, but only those through which we cognize that and
how certain representations (intuitions or conceptions) are applied or
are possible only à priori; that is to say, the à priori possibility of
cognition and the à priori use of it are transcendental. Therefore
neither is space, nor any à priori geometrical determination of space,
a transcendental Representation, but only the knowledge that such a
representation is not of empirical origin, and the possibility of its
relating to objects of experience, although itself à priori, can be
called transcendental. So also, the application of space to objects in
general would be transcendental; but if it be limited to objects of
sense it is empirical. Thus, the distinction of the transcendental and
empirical belongs only to the critique of cognitions, and does not
concern the relation of these to their object.
Accordingly, in the expectation that there may perhaps be conceptions
which relate à priori to objects, not as pure or sensuous intuitions,
but merely as acts of pure thought (which are therefore conceptions,
but neither of empirical nor æsthetical origin)—in this expectation, I
say, we form to ourselves, by anticipation, the idea of a science of
pure understanding and rational cognition, by means of which we may
cogitate objects entirely à priori. A science of this kind, which
should determine the origin, the extent, and the objective validity of
such cognitions, must be called transcendental logic, because it has
not, like general logic, to do with the laws of understanding and
reason in relation to empirical as well as pure rational cognitions
without distinction, but concerns itself with these only in an à priori
relation to objects.
III. Of the Division of General Logic into Analytic and Dialectic.
The old question with which people sought to push logicians into a
corner, so that they must either have recourse to pitiful sophisms or
confess their ignorance, and consequently the vanity of their whole
art, is this: “What is truth?” The definition of the word truth, to
wit, “the accordance of the cognition with its object,” is presupposed
in the question; but we desire to be told, in the answer to it, what is
the universal and secure criterion of the truth of every cognition.
To know what questions we may reasonably propose is in itself a strong
evidence of sagacity and intelligence. For if a question be in itself
absurd and unsusceptible of a rational answer, it is attended with the
danger—not to mention the shame that falls upon the person who proposes
it—of seducing the unguarded listener into making absurd answers, and
we are presented with the ridiculous spectacle of one (as the ancients
said) “milking the he-goat, and the other holding a sieve.”
If truth consists in the accordance of a cognition with its object,
this object must be, ipso facto, distinguished from all others; for a
cognition is false if it does not accord with the object to which it
relates, although it contains something which may be affirmed of other
objects. Now an universal criterion of truth would be that which is
valid for all cognitions, without distinction of their objects. But it
is evident that since, in the case of such a criterion, we make
abstraction of all the content of a cognition (that is, of all relation
to its object), and truth relates precisely to this content, it must be
utterly absurd to ask for a mark of the truth of this content of
cognition; and that, accordingly, a sufficient, and at the same time
universal, test of truth cannot possibly be found. As we have already
termed the content of a cognition its matter, we shall say: “Of the
truth of our cognitions in respect of their matter, no universal test
can be demanded, because such a demand is self-contradictory.”
On the other hand, with regard to our cognition in respect of its mere
form (excluding all content), it is equally manifest that logic, in so
far as it exhibits the universal and necessary laws of the
understanding, must in these very laws present us with criteria of
truth. Whatever contradicts these rules is false, because thereby the
understanding is made to contradict its own universal laws of thought;
that is, to contradict itself. These criteria, however, apply solely to
the form of truth, that is, of thought in general, and in so far they
are perfectly accurate, yet not sufficient. For although a cognition
may be perfectly accurate as to logical form, that is, not
self-contradictory, it is notwithstanding quite possible that it may
not stand in agreement with its object. Consequently, the merely
logical criterion of truth, namely, the accordance of a cognition with
the universal and formal laws of understanding and reason, is nothing
more than the conditio sine qua non, or negative condition of all
truth. Farther than this logic cannot go, and the error which depends
not on the form, but on the content of the cognition, it has no test to
discover.
General logic, then, resolves the whole formal business of
understanding and reason into its elements, and exhibits them as
principles of all logical judging of our cognitions. This part of logic
may, therefore, be called analytic, and is at least the negative test
of truth, because all cognitions must first of an be estimated and
tried according to these laws before we proceed to investigate them in
respect of their content, in order to discover whether they contain
positive truth in regard to their object. Because, however, the mere
form of a cognition, accurately as it may accord with logical laws, is
insufficient to supply us with material (objective) truth, no one, by
means of logic alone, can venture to predicate anything of or decide
concerning objects, unless he has obtained, independently of logic,
well-grounded information about them, in order afterwards to examine,
according to logical laws, into the use and connection, in a cohering
whole, of that information, or, what is still better, merely to test it
by them. Notwithstanding, there lies so seductive a charm in the
possession of a specious art like this—an art which gives to all our
cognitions the form of the understanding, although with respect to the
content thereof we may be sadly deficient—that general logic, which is
merely a canon of judgement, has been employed as an organon for the
actual production, or rather for the semblance of production, of
objective assertions, and has thus been grossly misapplied. Now general
logic, in its assumed character of organon, is called dialectic.
Different as are the significations in which the ancients used this
term for a science or an art, we may safely infer, from their actual
employment of it, that with them it was nothing else than a logic of
illusion—a sophistical art for giving ignorance, nay, even intentional
sophistries, the colouring of truth, in which the thoroughness of
procedure which logic requires was imitated, and their topic employed
to cloak the empty pretensions. Now it may be taken as a safe and
useful warning, that general logic, considered as an organon, must
always be a logic of illusion, that is, be dialectical, for, as it
teaches us nothing whatever respecting the content of our cognitions,
but merely the formal conditions of their accordance with the
understanding, which do not relate to and are quite indifferent in
respect of objects, any attempt to employ it as an instrument (organon)
in order to extend and enlarge the range of our knowledge must end in
mere prating; any one being able to maintain or oppose, with some
appearance of truth, any single assertion whatever.
Such instruction is quite unbecoming the dignity of philosophy. For
these reasons we have chosen to denominate this part of logic
dialectic, in the sense of a critique of dialectical illusion, and we
wish the term to be so understood in this place.
IV. Of the Division of Transcendental Logic into Transcendental
Analytic and Dialectic.
In transcendental logic we isolate the understanding (as in
transcendental æsthetic the sensibility) and select from our cognition
merely that part of thought which has its origin in the understanding
alone. The exercise of this pure cognition, however, depends upon this
as its condition, that objects to which it may be applied be given to
us in intuition, for without intuition the whole of our cognition is
without objects, and is therefore quite void. That part of
transcendental logic, then, which treats of the elements of pure
cognition of the understanding, and of the principles without which no
object at all can be thought, is transcendental analytic, and at the
same time a logic of truth. For no cognition can contradict it, without
losing at the same time all content, that is, losing all reference to
an object, and therefore all truth. But because we are very easily
seduced into employing these pure cognitions and principles of the
understanding by themselves, and that even beyond the boundaries of
experience, which yet is the only source whence we can obtain matter
(objects) on which those pure conceptions may be employed—understanding
runs the risk of making, by means of empty sophisms, a material and
objective use of the mere formal principles of the pure understanding,
and of passing judgements on objects without distinction—objects which
are not given to us, nay, perhaps cannot be given to us in any way.
Now, as it ought properly to be only a canon for judging of the
empirical use of the understanding, this kind of logic is misused when
we seek to employ it as an organon of the universal and unlimited
exercise of the understanding, and attempt with the pure understanding
alone to judge synthetically, affirm, and determine respecting objects
in general. In this case the exercise of the pure understanding becomes
dialectical. The second part of our transcendental logic must therefore
be a critique of dialectical illusion, and this critique we shall term
transcendental dialectic—not meaning it as an art of producing
dogmatically such illusion (an art which is unfortunately too current
among the practitioners of metaphysical juggling), but as a critique of
understanding and reason in regard to their hyperphysical use. This
critique will expose the groundless nature of the pretensions of these
two faculties, and invalidate their claims to the discovery and
enlargement of our cognitions merely by means of transcendental
principles, and show that the proper employment of these faculties is
to test the judgements made by the pure understanding, and to guard it
from sophistical delusion.
FIRST DIVISION. TRANSCENDENTAL LOGIC. TRANSCENDENTAL ANALYTIC. § 1
Transcendental analytic is the dissection of the whole of our à priori
knowledge into the elements of the pure cognition of the understanding.
In order to effect our purpose, it is necessary: (1) That the
conceptions be pure and not empirical; (2) That they belong not to
intuition and sensibility, but to thought and understanding; (3) That
they be elementary conceptions, and as such, quite different from
deduced or compound conceptions; (4) That our table of these elementary
conceptions be complete, and fill up the whole sphere of the pure
understanding. Now this completeness of a science cannot be accepted
with confidence on the guarantee of a mere estimate of its existence in
an aggregate formed only by means of repeated experiments and attempts.
The completeness which we require is possible only by means of an idea
of the totality of the à priori cognition of the understanding, and
through the thereby determined division of the conceptions which form
the said whole; consequently, only by means of their connection in a
system. Pure understanding distinguishes itself not merely from
everything empirical, but also completely from all sensibility. It is a
unity self-subsistent, self-sufficient, and not to be enlarged by any
additions from without. Hence the sum of its cognition constitutes a
system to be determined by and comprised under an idea; and the
completeness and articulation of this system can at the same time serve
as a test of the correctness and genuineness of all the parts of
cognition that belong to it. The whole of this part of transcendental
logic consists of two books, of which the one contains the conceptions,
and the other the principles of pure understanding.
BOOK I. Analytic of Conceptions. § 2
By the term Analytic of Conceptions, I do not understand the analysis
of these, or the usual process in philosophical investigations of
dissecting the conceptions which present themselves, according to their
content, and so making them clear; but I mean the hitherto little
attempted dissection of the faculty of understanding itself, in order
to investigate the possibility of conceptions à priori, by looking for
them in the understanding alone, as their birthplace, and analysing the
pure use of this faculty. For this is the proper duty of a
transcendental philosophy; what remains is the logical treatment of the
conceptions in philosophy in general. We shall therefore follow up the
pure conceptions even to their germs and beginnings in the human
understanding, in which they lie, until they are developed on occasions
presented by experience, and, freed by the same understanding from the
empirical conditions attaching to them, are set forth in their
unalloyed purity.
Chapter I. Of the Transcendental Clue to the Discovery of all Pure
Conceptions of the Understanding
Introductory § 3
When we call into play a faculty of cognition, different conceptions
manifest themselves according to the different circumstances, and make
known this faculty, and assemble themselves into a more or less
extensive collection, according to the time or penetration that has
been applied to the consideration of them. Where this process,
conducted as it is mechanically, so to speak, will end, cannot be
determined with certainty. Besides, the conceptions which we discover
in this haphazard manner present themselves by no means in order and
systematic unity, but are at last coupled together only according to
resemblances to each other, and arranged in series, according to the
quantity of their content, from the simpler to the more complex—series
which are anything but systematic, though not altogether without a
certain kind of method in their construction.
Transcendental philosophy has the advantage, and moreover the duty, of
searching for its conceptions according to a principle; because these
conceptions spring pure and unmixed out of the understanding as an
absolute unity, and therefore must be connected with each other
according to one conception or idea. A connection of this kind,
however, furnishes us with a ready prepared rule, by which its proper
place may be assigned to every pure conception of the understanding,
and the completeness of the system of all be determined à priori—both
which would otherwise have been dependent on mere choice or chance.
Section I. Of the Logical Use of the Understanding in General § 4
The understanding was defined above only negatively, as a non-sensuous
faculty of cognition. Now, independently of sensibility, we cannot
possibly have any intuition; consequently, the understanding is no
faculty of intuition. But besides intuition there is no other mode of
cognition, except through conceptions; consequently, the cognition of
every, at least of every human, understanding is a cognition through
conceptions—not intuitive, but discursive. All intuitions, as sensuous,
depend on affections; conceptions, therefore, upon functions. By the
word function I understand the unity of the act of arranging diverse
representations under one common representation. Conceptions, then, are
based on the spontaneity of thought, as sensuous intuitions are on the
receptivity of impressions. Now, the understanding cannot make any
other use of these conceptions than to judge by means of them. As no
representation, except an intuition, relates immediately to its object,
a conception never relates immediately to an object, but only to some
other representation thereof, be that an intuition or itself a
conception. A judgement, therefore, is the mediate cognition of an
object, consequently the representation of a representation of it. In
every judgement there is a conception which applies to, and is valid
for many other conceptions, and which among these comprehends also a
given representation, this last being immediately connected with an
object. For example, in the judgement—“All bodies are divisible,” our
conception of divisible applies to various other conceptions; among
these, however, it is here particularly applied to the conception of
body, and this conception of body relates to certain phenomena which
occur to us. These objects, therefore, are mediately represented by the
conception of divisibility. All judgements, accordingly, are functions
of unity in our representations, inasmuch as, instead of an immediate,
a higher representation, which comprises this and various others, is
used for our cognition of the object, and thereby many possible
cognitions are collected into one. But we can reduce all acts of the
understanding to judgements, so that understanding may be represented
as the faculty of judging. For it is, according to what has been said
above, a faculty of thought. Now thought is cognition by means of
conceptions. But conceptions, as predicates of possible judgements,
relate to some representation of a yet undetermined object. Thus the
conception of body indicates something—for example, metal—which can be
cognized by means of that conception. It is therefore a conception, for
the reason alone that other representations are contained under it, by
means of which it can relate to objects. It is therefore the predicate
to a possible judgement; for example: “Every metal is a body.” All the
functions of the understanding therefore can be discovered, when we can
completely exhibit the functions of unity in judgements. And that this
may be effected very easily, the following section will show.
Section II. Of the Logical Function of the Understanding in Judgements
§ 5
If we abstract all the content of a judgement, and consider only the
intellectual form thereof, we find that the function of thought in a
judgement can be brought under four heads, of which each contains three
momenta. These may be conveniently represented in the following table:
1
_Quantity of judgements_
Universal
Particular
Singular
2 3
_Quality Relation_
Affirmative Categorical
Negative Hypothetical
Infinite Disjunctive
4
_Modality_
Problematical
Assertorical
Apodeictical
As this division appears to differ in some, though not essential
points, from the usual technique of logicians, the following
observations, for the prevention of otherwise possible
misunderstanding, will not be without their use.
1. Logicians say, with justice, that in the use of judgements in
syllogisms, singular judgements may be treated like universal ones.
For, precisely because a singular judgement has no extent at all, its
predicate cannot refer to a part of that which is contained in the
conception of the subject and be excluded from the rest. The predicate
is valid for the whole conception just as if it were a general
conception, and had extent, to the whole of which the predicate
applied. On the other hand, let us compare a singular with a general
judgement, merely as a cognition, in regard to quantity. The singular
judgement relates to the general one, as unity to infinity, and is
therefore in itself essentially different. Thus, if we estimate a
singular judgement (_judicium singulare_) not merely according to its
intrinsic validity as a judgement, but also as a cognition generally,
according to its quantity in comparison with that of other cognitions,
it is then entirely different from a general judgement (_judicium
commune_), and in a complete table of the momenta of thought deserves a
separate place—though, indeed, this would not be necessary in a logic
limited merely to the consideration of the use of judgements in
reference to each other.
2. In like manner, in transcendental logic, infinite must be
distinguished from affirmative judgements, although in general logic
they are rightly enough classed under affirmative. General logic
abstracts all content of the predicate (though it be negative), and
only considers whether the said predicate be affirmed or denied of the
subject. But transcendental logic considers also the worth or content
of this logical affirmation—an affirmation by means of a merely
negative predicate, and inquires how much the sum total of our
cognition gains by this affirmation. For example, if I say of the soul,
“It is not mortal”—by this negative judgement I should at least ward
off error. Now, by the proposition, “The soul is not mortal,” I have,
in respect of the logical form, really affirmed, inasmuch as I thereby
place the soul in the unlimited sphere of immortal beings. Now, because
of the whole sphere of possible existences, the mortal occupies one
part, and the immortal the other, neither more nor less is affirmed by
the proposition than that the soul is one among the infinite multitude
of things which remain over, when I take away the whole mortal part.
But by this proceeding we accomplish only this much, that the infinite
sphere of all possible existences is in so far limited that the mortal
is excluded from it, and the soul is placed in the remaining part of
the extent of this sphere. But this part remains, notwithstanding this
exception, infinite, and more and more parts may be taken away from the
whole sphere, without in the slightest degree thereby augmenting or
affirmatively determining our conception of the soul. These judgements,
therefore, infinite in respect of their logical extent, are, in respect
of the content of their cognition, merely limitative; and are
consequently entitled to a place in our transcendental table of all the
momenta of thought in judgements, because the function of the
understanding exercised by them may perhaps be of importance in the
field of its pure à priori cognition.
3. All relations of thought in judgements are those (a) of the
predicate to the subject; (b) of the principle to its consequence; (c)
of the divided cognition and all the members of the division to each
other. In the first of these three classes, we consider only two
conceptions; in the second, two judgements; in the third, several
judgements in relation to each other. The hypothetical proposition, “If
perfect justice exists, the obstinately wicked are punished,” contains
properly the relation to each other of two propositions, namely,
“Perfect justice exists,” and “The obstinately wicked are punished.”
Whether these propositions are in themselves true is a question not
here decided. Nothing is cogitated by means of this judgement except a
certain consequence. Finally, the disjunctive judgement contains a
relation of two or more propositions to each other—a relation not of
consequence, but of logical opposition, in so far as the sphere of the
one proposition excludes that of the other. But it contains at the same
time a relation of community, in so far as all the propositions taken
together fill up the sphere of the cognition. The disjunctive judgement
contains, therefore, the relation of the parts of the whole sphere of a
cognition, since the sphere of each part is a complemental part of the
sphere of the other, each contributing to form the sum total of the
divided cognition. Take, for example, the proposition, “The world
exists either through blind chance, or through internal necessity, or
through an external cause.” Each of these propositions embraces a part
of the sphere of our possible cognition as to the existence of a world;
all of them taken together, the whole sphere. To take the cognition out
of one of these spheres, is equivalent to placing it in one of the
others; and, on the other hand, to place it in one sphere is equivalent
to taking it out of the rest. There is, therefore, in a disjunctive
judgement a certain community of cognitions, which consists in this,
that they mutually exclude each other, yet thereby determine, as a
whole, the true cognition, inasmuch as, taken together, they make up
the complete content of a particular given cognition. And this is all
that I find necessary, for the sake of what follows, to remark in this
place.
4. The modality of judgements is a quite peculiar function, with this
distinguishing characteristic, that it contributes nothing to the
content of a judgement (for besides quantity, quality, and relation,
there is nothing more that constitutes the content of a judgement), but
concerns itself only with the value of the copula in relation to
thought in general. Problematical judgements are those in which the
affirmation or negation is accepted as merely possible (ad libitum). In
the assertorical, we regard the proposition as real (true); in the
apodeictical, we look on it as necessary.[13] Thus the two judgements
(antecedens et consequens), the relation of which constitutes a
hypothetical judgement, likewise those (the members of the division) in
whose reciprocity the disjunctive consists, are only problematical. In
the example above given the proposition, “There exists perfect
justice,” is not stated assertorically, but as an ad libitum judgement,
which someone may choose to adopt, and the consequence alone is
assertorical. Hence such judgements may be obviously false, and yet,
taken problematically, be conditions of our cognition of the truth.
Thus the proposition, “The world exists only by blind chance,” is in
the disjunctive judgement of problematical import only: that is to say,
one may accept it for the moment, and it helps us (like the indication
of the wrong road among all the roads that one can take) to find out
the true proposition. The problematical proposition is, therefore, that
which expresses only logical possibility (which is not objective); that
is, it expresses a free choice to admit the validity of such a
proposition—a merely arbitrary reception of it into the understanding.
The assertorical speaks of logical reality or truth; as, for example,
in a hypothetical syllogism, the antecedens presents itself in a
problematical form in the major, in an assertorical form in the minor,
and it shows that the proposition is in harmony with the laws of the
understanding. The apodeictical proposition cogitates the assertorical
as determined by these very laws of the understanding, consequently as
affirming à priori, and in this manner it expresses logical necessity.
Now because all is here gradually incorporated with the
understanding—inasmuch as in the first place we judge problematically;
then accept assertorically our judgement as true; lastly, affirm it as
inseparably united with the understanding, that is, as necessary and
apodeictical—we may safely reckon these three functions of modality as
so many momenta of thought.
[13] Just as if thought were in the first instance a function of the
understanding; in the second, of judgement; in the third, of reason. A
remark which will be explained in the sequel.
Section III. Of the Pure Conceptions of the Understanding, or
Categories § 6
General logic, as has been repeatedly said, makes abstraction of all
content of cognition, and expects to receive representations from some
other quarter, in order, by means of analysis, to convert them into
conceptions. On the contrary, transcendental logic has lying before it
the manifold content of à priori sensibility, which transcendental
æsthetic presents to it in order to give matter to the pure conceptions
of the understanding, without which transcendental logic would have no
content, and be therefore utterly void. Now space and time contain an
infinite diversity of determinations of pure à priori intuition, but
are nevertheless the condition of the mind’s receptivity, under which
alone it can obtain representations of objects, and which,
consequently, must always affect the conception of these objects. But
the spontaneity of thought requires that this diversity be examined
after a certain manner, received into the mind, and connected, in order
afterwards to form a cognition out of it. This Process I call
synthesis.
By the word synthesis, in its most general signification, I understand
the process of joining different representations to each other and of
comprehending their diversity in one cognition. This synthesis is pure
when the diversity is not given empirically but à priori (as that in
space and time). Our representations must be given previously to any
analysis of them; and no conceptions can arise, quoad their content,
analytically. But the synthesis of a diversity (be it given à priori or
empirically) is the first requisite for the production of a cognition,
which in its beginning, indeed, may be crude and confused, and
therefore in need of analysis—still, synthesis is that by which alone
the elements of our cognitions are collected and united into a certain
content, consequently it is the first thing on which we must fix our
attention, if we wish to investigate the origin of our knowledge.
Synthesis, generally speaking, is, as we shall afterwards see, the mere
operation of the imagination—a blind but indispensable function of the
soul, without which we should have no cognition whatever, but of the
working of which we are seldom even conscious. But to reduce this
synthesis to conceptions is a function of the understanding, by means
of which we attain to cognition, in the proper meaning of the term.
Pure synthesis, represented generally, gives us the pure conception of
the understanding. But by this pure synthesis, I mean that which rests
upon a basis of à priori synthetical unity. Thus, our numeration (and
this is more observable in large numbers) is a synthesis according to
conceptions, because it takes place according to a common basis of
unity (for example, the decade). By means of this conception,
therefore, the unity in the synthesis of the manifold becomes
necessary.
By means of analysis different representations are brought under one
conception—an operation of which general logic treats. On the other
hand, the duty of transcendental logic is to reduce to conceptions, not
representations, but the pure synthesis of representations. The first
thing which must be given to us for the sake of the à priori cognition
of all objects, is the diversity of the pure intuition; the synthesis
of this diversity by means of the imagination is the second; but this
gives, as yet, no cognition. The conceptions which give unity to this
pure synthesis, and which consist solely in the representation of this
necessary synthetical unity, furnish the third requisite for the
cognition of an object, and these conceptions are given by the
understanding.
The same function which gives unity to the different representation in
a judgement, gives also unity to the mere synthesis of different
representations in an intuition; and this unity we call the pure
conception of the understanding. Thus, the same understanding, and by
the same operations, whereby in conceptions, by means of analytical
unity, it produced the logical form of a judgement, introduces, by
means of the synthetical unity of the manifold in intuition, a
transcendental content into its representations, on which account they
are called pure conceptions of the understanding, and they apply à
priori to objects, a result not within the power of general logic.
In this manner, there arise exactly so many pure conceptions of the
understanding, applying à priori to objects of intuition in general, as
there are logical functions in all possible judgements. For there is no
other function or faculty existing in the understanding besides those
enumerated in that table. These conceptions we shall, with Aristotle,
call categories, our purpose being originally identical with his,
notwithstanding the great difference in the execution.
TABLE OF THE CATEGORIES
1 2
_Of Quantity Of Quality_
Unity Reality
Plurality Negation
Totality Limitation
3
_Of Relation_
Of Inherence and Subsistence (substantia et accidens)
Of Causality and Dependence (cause and effect)
Of Community (reciprocity between the agent and patient)
4
_Of Modality_
Possibility—Impossibility
Existence—Non-existence
Necessity—Contingence
This, then, is a catalogue of all the originally pure conceptions of
the synthesis which the understanding contains à priori, and these
conceptions alone entitle it to be called a pure understanding;
inasmuch as only by them it can render the manifold of intuition
conceivable, in other words, think an object of intuition. This
division is made systematically from a common principle, namely the
faculty of judgement (which is just the same as the power of thought),
and has not arisen rhapsodically from a search at haphazard after pure
conceptions, respecting the full number of which we never could be
certain, inasmuch as we employ induction alone in our search, without
considering that in this way we can never understand wherefore
precisely these conceptions, and none others, abide in the pure
understanding. It was a design worthy of an acute thinker like
Aristotle, to search for these fundamental conceptions. Destitute,
however, of any guiding principle, he picked them up just as they
occurred to him, and at first hunted out ten, which he called
categories (predicaments). Afterwards be believed that he had
discovered five others, which were added under the name of post
predicaments. But his catalogue still remained defective. Besides,
there are to be found among them some of the modes of pure sensibility
(quando, ubi, situs, also prius, simul), and likewise an empirical
conception (motus)—which can by no means belong to this genealogical
register of the pure understanding. Moreover, there are deduced
conceptions (actio, passio) enumerated among the original conceptions,
and, of the latter, some are entirely wanting.
With regard to these, it is to be remarked, that the categories, as the
true primitive conceptions of the pure understanding, have also their
pure deduced conceptions, which, in a complete system of transcendental
philosophy, must by no means be passed over; though in a merely
critical essay we must be contented with the simple mention of the
fact.
Let it be allowed me to call these pure, but deduced conceptions of the
understanding, the predicables of the pure understanding, in
contradistinction to predicaments. If we are in possession of the
original and primitive, the deduced and subsidiary conceptions can
easily be added, and the genealogical tree of the understanding
completely delineated. As my present aim is not to set forth a complete
system, but merely the principles of one, I reserve this task for
another time. It may be easily executed by any one who will refer to
the ontological manuals, and subordinate to the category of causality,
for example, the predicables of force, action, passion; to that of
community, those of presence and resistance; to the categories of
modality, those of origination, extinction, change; and so with the
rest. The categories combined with the modes of pure sensibility, or
with one another, afford a great number of deduced à priori
conceptions; a complete enumeration of which would be a useful and not
unpleasant, but in this place a perfectly dispensable, occupation.
I purposely omit the definitions of the categories in this treatise. I
shall analyse these conceptions only so far as is necessary for the
doctrine of method, which is to form a part of this critique. In a
system of pure reason, definitions of them would be with justice
demanded of me, but to give them here would only bide from our view the
main aim of our investigation, at the same time raising doubts and
objections, the consideration of which, without injustice to our main
purpose, may be very well postponed till another opportunity.
Meanwhile, it ought to be sufficiently clear, from the little we have
already said on this subject, that the formation of a complete
vocabulary of pure conceptions, accompanied by all the requisite
explanations, is not only a possible, but an easy undertaking. The
compartments already exist; it is only necessary to fill them up; and a
systematic topic like the present, indicates with perfect precision the
proper place to which each conception belongs, while it readily points
out any that have not yet been filled up.
§ 7
Our table of the categories suggests considerations of some importance,
which may perhaps have significant results in regard to the scientific
form of all rational cognitions. For, that this table is useful in the
theoretical part of philosophy, nay, indispensable for the sketching of
the complete plan of a science, so far as that science rests upon
conceptions à priori, and for dividing it mathematically, according to
fixed principles, is most manifest from the fact that it contains all
the elementary conceptions of the understanding, nay, even the form of
a system of these in the understanding itself, and consequently
indicates all the momenta, and also the internal arrangement of a
projected speculative science, as I have elsewhere shown.[14] Here
follow some of these observations.
[14] In the “Metaphysical Principles of Natural Science.”
I. This table, which contains four classes of conceptions of the
understanding, may, in the first instance, be divided into two classes,
the first of which relates to objects of intuition—pure as well as
empirical; the second, to the existence of these objects, either in
relation to one another, or to the understanding.
The former of these classes of categories I would entitle the
mathematical, and the latter the dynamical categories. The former, as
we see, has no correlates; these are only to be found in the second
class. This difference must have a ground in the nature of the human
understanding.
II. The number of the categories in each class is always the same,
namely, three—a fact which also demands some consideration, because in
all other cases division à priori through conceptions is necessarily
dichotomy. It is to be added, that the third category in each triad
always arises from the combination of the second with the first.
Thus totality is nothing else but plurality contemplated as unity;
limitation is merely reality conjoined with negation; community is the
causality of a substance, reciprocally determining, and determined by
other substances; and finally, necessity is nothing but existence,
which is given through the possibility itself. Let it not be supposed,
however, that the third category is merely a deduced, and not a
primitive conception of the pure understanding. For the conjunction of
the first and second, in order to produce the third conception,
requires a particular function of the understanding, which is by no
means identical with those which are exercised in the first and second.
Thus, the conception of a number (which belongs to the category of
totality) is not always possible, where the conceptions of multitude
and unity exist (for example, in the representation of the infinite).
Or, if I conjoin the conception of a cause with that of a substance, it
does not follow that the conception of influence, that is, how one
substance can be the cause of something in another substance, will be
understood from that. Thus it is evident that a particular act of the
understanding is here necessary; and so in the other instances.
III. With respect to one category, namely, that of community, which is
found in the third class, it is not so easy as with the others to
detect its accordance with the form of the disjunctive judgement which
corresponds to it in the table of the logical functions.
In order to assure ourselves of this accordance, we must observe that
in every disjunctive judgement, the sphere of the judgement (that is,
the complex of all that is contained in it) is represented as a whole
divided into parts; and, since one part cannot be contained in the
other, they are cogitated as co-ordinated with, not subordinated to
each other, so that they do not determine each other unilaterally, as
in a linear series, but reciprocally, as in an aggregate—(if one member
of the division is posited, all the rest are excluded; and conversely).
Now a like connection is cogitated in a whole of things; for one thing
is not subordinated, as effect, to another as cause of its existence,
but, on the contrary, is co-ordinated contemporaneously and
reciprocally, as a cause in relation to the determination of the others
(for example, in a body—the parts of which mutually attract and repel
each other). And this is an entirely different kind of connection from
that which we find in the mere relation of the cause to the effect (the
principle to the consequence), for in such a connection the consequence
does not in its turn determine the principle, and therefore does not
constitute, with the latter, a whole—just as the Creator does not with
the world make up a whole. The process of understanding by which it
represents to itself the sphere of a divided conception, is employed
also when we think of a thing as divisible; and in the same manner as
the members of the division in the former exclude one another, and yet
are connected in one sphere, so the understanding represents to itself
the parts of the latter, as having—each of them—an existence (as
substances), independently of the others, and yet as united in one
whole.
§ 8
In the transcendental philosophy of the ancients there exists one more
leading division, which contains pure conceptions of the understanding,
and which, although not numbered among the categories, ought, according
to them, as conceptions à priori, to be valid of objects. But in this
case they would augment the number of the categories; which cannot be.
These are set forth in the proposition, so renowned among the
schoolmen—‘_Quodlibet ens est UNUM, VERUM, BONUM_.’ Now, though the
inferences from this principle were mere tautological propositions, and
though it is allowed only by courtesy to retain a place in modern
metaphysics, yet a thought which maintained itself for such a length of
time, however empty it seems to be, deserves an investigation of its
origin, and justifies the conjecture that it must be grounded in some
law of the understanding, which, as is often the case, has only been
erroneously interpreted. These pretended transcendental predicates are,
in fact, nothing but logical requisites and criteria of all cognition
of objects, and they employ, as the basis for this cognition, the
categories of quantity, namely, unity, plurality, and totality. But
these, which must be taken as material conditions, that is, as
belonging to the possibility of things themselves, they employed merely
in a formal signification, as belonging to the logical requisites of
all cognition, and yet most unguardedly changed these criteria of
thought into properties of objects, as things in themselves. Now, in
every cognition of an object, there is unity of conception, which may
be called qualitative unity, so far as by this term we understand only
the unity in our connection of the manifold; for example, unity of the
theme in a play, an oration, or a story. Secondly, there is truth in
respect of the deductions from it. The more true deductions we have
from a given conception, the more criteria of its objective reality.
This we might call the qualitative plurality of characteristic marks,
which belong to a conception as to a common foundation, but are not
cogitated as a quantity in it. Thirdly, there is perfection—which
consists in this, that the plurality falls back upon the unity of the
conception, and accords completely with that conception and with no
other. This we may denominate qualitative completeness. Hence it is
evident that these logical criteria of the possibility of cognition are
merely the three categories of quantity modified and transformed to
suit an unauthorized manner of applying them. That is to say, the three
categories, in which the unity in the production of the quantum must be
homogeneous throughout, are transformed solely with a view to the
connection of heterogeneous parts of cognition in one act of
consciousness, by means of the quality of the cognition, which is the
principle of that connection. Thus the criterion of the possibility of
a conception (not of its object) is the definition of it, in which the
unity of the conception, the truth of all that may be immediately
deduced from it, and finally, the completeness of what has been thus
deduced, constitute the requisites for the reproduction of the whole
conception. Thus also, the criterion or test of an hypothesis is the
intelligibility of the received principle of explanation, or its unity
(without help from any subsidiary hypothesis)—the truth of our
deductions from it (consistency with each other and with
experience)—and lastly, the completeness of the principle of the
explanation of these deductions, which refer to neither more nor less
than what was admitted in the hypothesis, restoring analytically and à
posteriori, what was cogitated synthetically and à priori. By the
conceptions, therefore, of unity, truth, and perfection, we have made
no addition to the transcendental table of the categories, which is
complete without them. We have, on the contrary, merely employed the
three categories of quantity, setting aside their application to
objects of experience, as general logical laws of the consistency of
cognition with itself.
Chapter II. Of the Deduction of the Pure Conceptions of the
Understanding
Section I. Of the Principles of a Transcendental Deduction in general §
9
Teachers of jurisprudence, when speaking of rights and claims,
distinguish in a cause the question of right (quid juris) from the
question of fact (quid facti), and while they demand proof of both,
they give to the proof of the former, which goes to establish right or
claim in law, the name of deduction. Now we make use of a great number
of empirical conceptions, without opposition from any one; and consider
ourselves, even without any attempt at deduction, justified in
attaching to them a sense, and a supposititious signification, because
we have always experience at hand to demonstrate their objective
reality. There exist also, however, usurped conceptions, such as
fortune, fate, which circulate with almost universal indulgence, and
yet are occasionally challenged by the question, “quid juris?” In such
cases, we have great difficulty in discovering any deduction for these
terms, inasmuch as we cannot produce any manifest ground of right,
either from experience or from reason, on which the claim to employ
them can be founded.
Among the many conceptions, which make up the very variegated web of
human cognition, some are destined for pure use à priori, independent
of all experience; and their title to be so employed always requires a
deduction, inasmuch as, to justify such use of them, proofs from
experience are not sufficient; but it is necessary to know how these
conceptions can apply to objects without being derived from experience.
I term, therefore, an examination of the manner in which conceptions
can apply à priori to objects, the transcendental deduction of
conceptions, and I distinguish it from the empirical deduction, which
indicates the mode in which conception is obtained through experience
and reflection thereon; consequently, does not concern itself with the
right, but only with the fact of our obtaining conceptions in such and
such a manner. We have already seen that we are in possession of two
perfectly different kinds of conceptions, which nevertheless agree with
each other in this, that they both apply to objects completely à
priori. These are the conceptions of space and time as forms of
sensibility, and the categories as pure conceptions of the
understanding. To attempt an empirical deduction of either of these
classes would be labour in vain, because the distinguishing
characteristic of their nature consists in this, that they apply to
their objects, without having borrowed anything from experience towards
the representation of them. Consequently, if a deduction of these
conceptions is necessary, it must always be transcendental.
Meanwhile, with respect to these conceptions, as with respect to all
our cognition, we certainly may discover in experience, if not the
principle of their possibility, yet the occasioning causes of their
production. It will be found that the impressions of sense give the
first occasion for bringing into action the whole faculty of cognition,
and for the production of experience, which contains two very
dissimilar elements, namely, a matter for cognition, given by the
senses, and a certain form for the arrangement of this matter, arising
out of the inner fountain of pure intuition and thought; and these, on
occasion given by sensuous impressions, are called into exercise and
produce conceptions. Such an investigation into the first efforts of
our faculty of cognition to mount from particular perceptions to
general conceptions is undoubtedly of great utility; and we have to
thank the celebrated Locke for having first opened the way for this
inquiry. But a deduction of the pure à priori conceptions of course
never can be made in this way, seeing that, in regard to their future
employment, which must be entirely independent of experience, they must
have a far different certificate of birth to show from that of a
descent from experience. This attempted physiological derivation, which
cannot properly be called deduction, because it relates merely to a
quaestio facti, I shall entitle an explanation of the possession of a
pure cognition. It is therefore manifest that there can only be a
transcendental deduction of these conceptions and by no means an
empirical one; also, that all attempts at an empirical deduction, in
regard to pure à priori conceptions, are vain, and can only be made by
one who does not understand the altogether peculiar nature of these
cognitions.
But although it is admitted that the only possible deduction of pure à
priori cognition is a transcendental deduction, it is not, for that
reason, perfectly manifest that such a deduction is absolutely
necessary. We have already traced to their sources the conceptions of
space and time, by means of a transcendental deduction, and we have
explained and determined their objective validity à priori. Geometry,
nevertheless, advances steadily and securely in the province of pure à
priori cognitions, without needing to ask from philosophy any
certificate as to the pure and legitimate origin of its fundamental
conception of space. But the use of the conception in this science
extends only to the external world of sense, the pure form of the
intuition of which is space; and in this world, therefore, all
geometrical cognition, because it is founded upon à priori intuition,
possesses immediate evidence, and the objects of this cognition are
given à priori (as regards their form) in intuition by and through the
cognition itself. With the pure conceptions of understanding, on the
contrary, commences the absolute necessity of seeking a transcendental
deduction, not only of these conceptions themselves, but likewise of
space, because, inasmuch as they make affirmations concerning objects
not by means of the predicates of intuition and sensibility, but of
pure thought à priori, they apply to objects without any of the
conditions of sensibility. Besides, not being founded on experience,
they are not presented with any object in à priori intuition upon
which, antecedently to experience, they might base their synthesis.
Hence results, not only doubt as to the objective validity and proper
limits of their use, but that even our conception of space is rendered
equivocal; inasmuch as we are very ready with the aid of the
categories, to carry the use of this conception beyond the conditions
of sensuous intuition—and, for this reason, we have already found a
transcendental deduction of it needful. The reader, then, must be quite
convinced of the absolute necessity of a transcendental deduction,
before taking a single step in the field of pure reason; because
otherwise he goes to work blindly, and after he has wondered about in
all directions, returns to the state of utter ignorance from which he
started. He ought, moreover, clearly to recognize beforehand the
unavoidable difficulties in his undertaking, so that he may not
afterwards complain of the obscurity in which the subject itself is
deeply involved, or become too soon impatient of the obstacles in his
path; because we have a choice of only two things—either at once to
give up all pretensions to knowledge beyond the limits of possible
experience, or to bring this critical investigation to completion.
We have been able, with very little trouble, to make it comprehensible
how the conceptions of space and time, although à priori cognitions,
must necessarily apply to external objects, and render a synthetical
cognition of these possible, independently of all experience. For
inasmuch as only by means of such pure form of sensibility an object
can appear to us, that is, be an object of empirical intuition, space
and time are pure intuitions, which contain à priori the condition of
the possibility of objects as phenomena, and an à priori synthesis in
these intuitions possesses objective validity.
On the other hand, the categories of the understanding do not represent
the conditions under which objects are given to us in intuition;
objects can consequently appear to us without necessarily connecting
themselves with these, and consequently without any necessity binding
on the understanding to contain à priori the conditions of these
objects. Thus we find ourselves involved in a difficulty which did not
present itself in the sphere of sensibility, that is to say, we cannot
discover how the subjective conditions of thought can have objective
validity, in other words, can become conditions of the possibility of
all cognition of objects; for phenomena may certainly be given to us in
intuition without any help from the functions of the understanding. Let
us take, for example, the conception of cause, which indicates a
peculiar kind of synthesis, namely, that with something, A, something
entirely different, B, is connected according to a law. It is not à
priori manifest why phenomena should contain anything of this kind (we
are of course debarred from appealing for proof to experience, for the
objective validity of this conception must be demonstrated à priori),
and it hence remains doubtful à priori, whether such a conception be
not quite void and without any corresponding object among phenomena.
For that objects of sensuous intuition must correspond to the formal
conditions of sensibility existing à priori in the mind is quite
evident, from the fact that without these they could not be objects for
us; but that they must also correspond to the conditions which
understanding requires for the synthetical unity of thought is an
assertion, the grounds for which are not so easily to be discovered.
For phenomena might be so constituted as not to correspond to the
conditions of the unity of thought; and all things might lie in such
confusion that, for example, nothing could be met with in the sphere of
phenomena to suggest a law of synthesis, and so correspond to the
conception of cause and effect; so that this conception would be quite
void, null, and without significance. Phenomena would nevertheless
continue to present objects to our intuition; for mere intuition does
not in any respect stand in need of the functions of thought.
If we thought to free ourselves from the labour of these investigations
by saying: “Experience is constantly offering us examples of the
relation of cause and effect in phenomena, and presents us with
abundant opportunity of abstracting the conception of cause, and so at
the same time of corroborating the objective validity of this
conception”; we should in this case be overlooking the fact, that the
conception of cause cannot arise in this way at all; that, on the
contrary, it must either have an à priori basis in the understanding,
or be rejected as a mere chimera. For this conception demands that
something, A, should be of such a nature that something else, B, should
follow from it necessarily, and according to an absolutely universal
law. We may certainly collect from phenomena a law, according to which
this or that usually happens, but the element of necessity is not to be
found in it. Hence it is evident that to the synthesis of cause and
effect belongs a dignity, which is utterly wanting in any empirical
synthesis; for it is no mere mechanical synthesis, by means of
addition, but a dynamical one; that is to say, the effect is not to be
cogitated as merely annexed to the cause, but as posited by and through
the cause, and resulting from it. The strict universality of this law
never can be a characteristic of empirical laws, which obtain through
induction only a comparative universality, that is, an extended range
of practical application. But the pure conceptions of the understanding
would entirely lose all their peculiar character, if we treated them
merely as the productions of experience.
Transition to the Transcendental Deduction of the Categories § 10
There are only two possible ways in which synthetical representation
and its objects can coincide with and relate necessarily to each other,
and, as it were, meet together. Either the object alone makes the
representation possible, or the representation alone makes the object
possible. In the former case, the relation between them is only
empirical, and an à priori representation is impossible. And this is
the case with phenomena, as regards that in them which is referable to
mere sensation. In the latter case—although representation alone (for
of its causality, by means of the will, we do not here speak) does not
produce the object as to its existence, it must nevertheless be à
priori determinative in regard to the object, if it is only by means of
the representation that we can cognize anything as an object. Now there
are only two conditions of the possibility of a cognition of objects;
firstly, intuition, by means of which the object, though only as
phenomenon, is given; secondly, conception, by means of which the
object which corresponds to this intuition is thought. But it is
evident from what has been said on æsthetic that the first condition,
under which alone objects can be intuited, must in fact exist, as a
formal basis for them, à priori in the mind. With this formal condition
of sensibility, therefore, all phenomena necessarily correspond,
because it is only through it that they can be phenomena at all; that
is, can be empirically intuited and given. Now the question is whether
there do not exist, à priori in the mind, conceptions of understanding
also, as conditions under which alone something, if not intuited, is
yet thought as object. If this question be answered in the affirmative,
it follows that all empirical cognition of objects is necessarily
conformable to such conceptions, since, if they are not presupposed, it
is impossible that anything can be an object of experience. Now all
experience contains, besides the intuition of the senses through which
an object is given, a conception also of an object that is given in
intuition. Accordingly, conceptions of objects in general must lie as à
priori conditions at the foundation of all empirical cognition; and
consequently, the objective validity of the categories, as à priori
conceptions, will rest upon this, that experience (as far as regards
the form of thought) is possible only by their means. For in that case
they apply necessarily and à priori to objects of experience, because
only through them can an object of experience be thought.
The whole aim of the transcendental deduction of all à priori
conceptions is to show that these conceptions are à priori conditions
of the possibility of all experience. Conceptions which afford us the
objective foundation of the possibility of experience are for that very
reason necessary. But the analysis of the experiences in which they are
met with is not deduction, but only an illustration of them, because
from experience they could never derive the attribute of necessity.
Without their original applicability and relation to all possible
experience, in which all objects of cognition present themselves, the
relation of the categories to objects, of whatever nature, would be
quite incomprehensible.
The celebrated Locke, for want of due reflection on these points, and
because he met with pure conceptions of the understanding in
experience, sought also to deduce them from experience, and yet
proceeded so inconsequently as to attempt, with their aid, to arrive it
cognitions which lie far beyond the limits of all experience. David
Hume perceived that, to render this possible, it was necessary that the
conceptions should have an à priori origin. But as he could not explain
how it was possible that conceptions which are not connected with each
other in the understanding must nevertheless be thought as necessarily
connected in the object—and it never occurred to him that the
understanding itself might, perhaps, by means of these conceptions, be
the author of the experience in which its objects were presented to
it—he was forced to drive these conceptions from experience, that is,
from a subjective necessity arising from repeated association of
experiences erroneously considered to be objective—in one word, from
habit. But he proceeded with perfect consequence and declared it to be
impossible, with such conceptions and the principles arising from them,
to overstep the limits of experience. The empirical derivation,
however, which both of these philosophers attributed to these
conceptions, cannot possibly be reconciled with the fact that we do
possess scientific à priori cognitions, namely, those of pure
mathematics and general physics.
The former of these two celebrated men opened a wide door to
extravagance—(for if reason has once undoubted right on its side, it
will not allow itself to be confined to set limits, by vague
recommendations of moderation); the latter gave himself up entirely to
scepticism—a natural consequence, after having discovered, as he
thought, that the faculty of cognition was not trustworthy. We now
intend to make a trial whether it be not possible safely to conduct
reason between these two rocks, to assign her determinate limits, and
yet leave open for her the entire sphere of her legitimate activity.
I shall merely premise an explanation of what the categories are. They
are conceptions of an object in general, by means of which its
intuition is contemplated as determined in relation to one of the
logical functions of judgement. The following will make this plain. The
function of the categorical judgement is that of the relation of
subject to predicate; for example, in the proposition: “All bodies are
divisible.” But in regard to the merely logical use of the
understanding, it still remains undetermined to which Of these two
conceptions belongs the function Of subject and to which that of
predicate. For we could also say: “Some divisible is a body.” But the
category of substance, when the conception of a body is brought under
it, determines that; and its empirical intuition in experience must be
contemplated always as subject and never as mere predicate. And so with
all the other categories.
Section II Transcendental Deduction of the pure Conceptions of the
Understanding
Of the Possibility of a Conjunction of the manifold representations
given by Sense § 11.
The manifold content in our representations can be given in an
intuition which is merely sensuous—in other words, is nothing but
susceptibility; and the form of this intuition can exist à priori in
our faculty of representation, without being anything else but the mode
in which the subject is affected. But the conjunction (conjunctio) of a
manifold in intuition never can be given us by the senses; it cannot
therefore be contained in the pure form of sensuous intuition, for it
is a spontaneous act of the faculty of representation. And as we must,
to distinguish it from sensibility, entitle this faculty understanding;
so all conjunction whether conscious or unconscious, be it of the
manifold in intuition, sensuous or non-sensuous, or of several
conceptions—is an act of the understanding. To this act we shall give
the general appellation of synthesis, thereby to indicate, at the same
time, that we cannot represent anything as conjoined in the object
without having previously conjoined it ourselves. Of all mental
notions, that of conjunction is the only one which cannot be given
through objects, but can be originated only by the subject itself,
because it is an act of its purely spontaneous activity. The reader
will easily enough perceive that the possibility of conjunction must be
grounded in the very nature of this act, and that it must be equally
valid for all conjunction, and that analysis, which appears to be its
contrary, must, nevertheless, always presuppose it; for where the
understanding has not previously conjoined, it cannot dissect or
analyse, because only as conjoined by it, must that which is to be
analysed have been given to our faculty of representation.
But the conception of conjunction includes, besides the conception of
the manifold and of the synthesis of it, that of the unity of it also.
Conjunction is the representation of the synthetical unity of the
manifold.[15] This idea of unity, therefore, cannot arise out of that
of conjunction; much rather does that idea, by combining itself with
the representation of the manifold, render the conception of
conjunction possible. This unity, which à priori precedes all
conceptions of conjunction, is not the category of unity (§ 6); for all
the categories are based upon logical functions of judgement, and in
these functions we already have conjunction, and consequently unity of
given conceptions. It is therefore evident that the category of unity
presupposes conjunction. We must therefore look still higher for this
unity (as qualitative, § 8), in that, namely, which contains the ground
of the unity of diverse conceptions in judgements, the ground,
consequently, of the possibility of the existence of the understanding,
even in regard to its logical use.
[15] Whether the representations are in themselves identical, and
consequently whether one can be thought analytically by means of and
through the other, is a question which we need not at present
consider. Our Consciousness of the one, when we speak of the manifold,
is always distinguishable from our consciousness of the other; and it
is only respecting the synthesis of this (possible) consciousness that
we here treat.
Of the Originally Synthetical Unity of Apperception § 12
The “I think” must accompany all my representations, for otherwise
something would be represented in me which could not be thought; in
other words, the representation would either be impossible, or at least
be, in relation to me, nothing. That representation which can be given
previously to all thought is called intuition. All the diversity or
manifold content of intuition, has, therefore, a necessary relation to
the “I think,” in the subject in which this diversity is found. But
this representation, “I think,” is an act of spontaneity; that is to
say, it cannot be regarded as belonging to mere sensibility. I call it
pure apperception, in order to distinguish it from empirical; or
primitive apperception, because it is self-consciousness which, whilst
it gives birth to the representation “I think,” must necessarily be
capable of accompanying all our representations. It is in all acts of
consciousness one and the same, and unaccompanied by it, no
representation can exist for me. The unity of this apperception I call
the transcendental unity of self-consciousness, in order to indicate
the possibility of à priori cognition arising from it. For the manifold
representations which are given in an intuition would not all of them
be my representations, if they did not all belong to one
self-consciousness, that is, as my representations (even although I am
not conscious of them as such), they must conform to the condition
under which alone they can exist together in a common
self-consciousness, because otherwise they would not all without
exception belong to me. From this primitive conjunction follow many
important results.
For example, this universal identity of the apperception of the
manifold given in intuition contains a synthesis of representations and
is possible only by means of the consciousness of this synthesis. For
the empirical consciousness which accompanies different representations
is in itself fragmentary and disunited, and without relation to the
identity of the subject. This relation, then, does not exist because I
accompany every representation with consciousness, but because I join
one representation to another, and am conscious of the synthesis of
them. Consequently, only because I can connect a variety of given
representations in one consciousness, is it possible that I can
represent to myself the identity of consciousness in these
representations; in other words, the analytical unity of apperception
is possible only under the presupposition of a synthetical unity.[16]
The thought, “These representations given in intuition belong all of
them to me,” is accordingly just the same as, “I unite them in one
self-consciousness, or can at least so unite them”; and although this
thought is not itself the consciousness of the synthesis of
representations, it presupposes the possibility of it; that is to say,
for the reason alone that I can comprehend the variety of my
representations in one consciousness, do I call them my
representations, for otherwise I must have as many-coloured and various
a self as are the representations of which I am conscious. Synthetical
unity of the manifold in intuitions, as given à priori, is therefore
the foundation of the identity of apperception itself, which antecedes
à priori all determinate thought. But the conjunction of
representations into a conception is not to be found in objects
themselves, nor can it be, as it were, borrowed from them and taken up
into the understanding by perception, but it is on the contrary an
operation of the understanding itself, which is nothing more than the
faculty of conjoining à priori and of bringing the variety of given
representations under the unity of apperception. This principle is the
highest in all human cognition.
[16] All general conceptions—as such—depend, for their existence, on
the analytical unity of consciousness. For example, when I think of
red in general, I thereby think to myself a property which (as a
characteristic mark) can be discovered somewhere, or can be united
with other representations; consequently, it is only by means of a
forethought possible synthetical unity that I can think to myself the
analytical. A representation which is cogitated as common to different
representations, is regarded as belonging to such as, besides this
common representation, contain something different; consequently it
must be previously thought in synthetical unity with other although
only possible representations, before I can think in it the analytical
unity of consciousness which makes it a conceptas communis. And thus
the synthetical unity of apperception is the highest point with which
we must connect every operation of the understanding, even the whole
of logic, and after it our transcendental philosophy; indeed, this
faculty is the understanding itself.
This fundamental principle of the necessary unity of apperception is
indeed an identical, and therefore analytical, proposition; but it
nevertheless explains the necessity for a synthesis of the manifold
given in an intuition, without which the identity of self-consciousness
would be incogitable. For the ego, as a simple representation, presents
us with no manifold content; only in intuition, which is quite
different from the representation ego, can it be given us, and by means
of conjunction it is cogitated in one self-consciousness. An
understanding, in which all the manifold should be given by means of
consciousness itself, would be intuitive; our understanding can only
think and must look for its intuition to sense. I am, therefore,
conscious of my identical self, in relation to all the variety of
representations given to me in an intuition, because I call all of them
my representations. In other words, I am conscious myself of a
necessary à priori synthesis of my representations, which is called the
original synthetical unity of apperception, under which rank all the
representations presented to me, but that only by means of a synthesis.
The Principle of the Synthetical Unity of Apperception is the highest
Principle of all exercise of the Understanding § 13
The supreme principle of the possibility of all intuition in relation
to sensibility was, according to our transcendental æsthetic, that all
the manifold in intuition be subject to the formal conditions of space
and time. The supreme principle of the possibility of it in relation to
the understanding is that all the manifold in it be subject to
conditions of the originally synthetical unity or apperception.[17] To
the former of these two principles are subject all the various
representations of intuition, in so far as they are given to us; to the
latter, in so far as they must be capable of conjunction in one
consciousness; for without this nothing can be thought or cognized,
because the given representations would not have in common the act Of
the apperception “I think” and therefore could not be connected in one
self-consciousness.
[17] Space and time, and all portions thereof, are intuitions;
consequently are, with a manifold for their content, single
representations. (See the Transcendental Æsthetic.) Consequently, they
are not pure conceptions, by means of which the same consciousness is
found in a great number of representations; but, on the contrary, they
are many representations contained in one, the consciousness of which
is, so to speak, compounded. The unity of consciousness is
nevertheless synthetical and, therefore, primitive. From this peculiar
character of consciousness follow many important consequences. (See §
21.)
Understanding is, to speak generally, the faculty Of cognitions. These
consist in the determined relation of given representation to an
object. But an object is that, in the conception of which the manifold
in a given intuition is united. Now all union of representations
requires unity of consciousness in the synthesis of them. Consequently,
it is the unity of consciousness alone that constitutes the possibility
of representations relating to an object, and therefore of their
objective validity, and of their becoming cognitions, and consequently,
the possibility of the existence of the understanding itself.
The first pure cognition of understanding, then, upon which is founded
all its other exercise, and which is at the same time perfectly
independent of all conditions of mere sensuous intuition, is the
principle of the original synthetical unity of apperception. Thus the
mere form of external sensuous intuition, namely, space, affords us,
per se, no cognition; it merely contributes the manifold in à priori
intuition to a possible cognition. But, in order to cognize something
in space (for example, a line), I must draw it, and thus produce
synthetically a determined conjunction of the given manifold, so that
the unity of this act is at the same time the unity of consciousness
(in the conception of a line), and by this means alone is an object (a
determinate space) cognized. The synthetical unity of consciousness is,
therefore, an objective condition of all cognition, which I do not
merely require in order to cognize an object, but to which every
intuition must necessarily be subject, in order to become an object for
me; because in any other way, and without this synthesis, the manifold
in intuition could not be united in one consciousness.
This proposition is, as already said, itself analytical, although it
constitutes the synthetical unity, the condition of all thought; for it
states nothing more than that all my representations in any given
intuition must be subject to the condition which alone enables me to
connect them, as my representation with the identical self, and so to
unite them synthetically in one apperception, by means of the general
expression, “I think.”
But this principle is not to be regarded as a principle for every
possible understanding, but only for the understanding by means of
whose pure apperception in the thought I am, no manifold content is
given. The understanding or mind which contained the manifold in
intuition, in and through the act itself of its own self-consciousness,
in other words, an understanding by and in the representation of which
the objects of the representation should at the same time exist, would
not require a special act of synthesis of the manifold as the condition
of the unity of its consciousness, an act of which the human
understanding, which thinks only and cannot intuite, has absolute need.
But this principle is the first principle of all the operations of our
understanding, so that we cannot form the least conception of any other
possible understanding, either of one such as should be itself
intuition, or possess a sensuous intuition, but with forms different
from those of space and time.
What Objective Unity of Self-consciousness is § 14
It is by means of the transcendental unity of apperception that all the
manifold, given in an intuition is united into a conception of the
object. On this account it is called objective, and must be
distinguished from the subjective unity of consciousness, which is a
determination of the internal sense, by means of which the said
manifold in intuition is given empirically to be so united. Whether I
can be empirically conscious of the manifold as coexistent or as
successive, depends upon circumstances, or empirical conditions. Hence
the empirical unity of consciousness by means of association of
representations, itself relates to a phenomenal world and is wholly
contingent. On the contrary, the pure form of intuition in time, merely
as an intuition, which contains a given manifold, is subject to the
original unity of consciousness, and that solely by means of the
necessary relation of the manifold in intuition to the “I think,”
consequently by means of the pure synthesis of the understanding, which
lies à priori at the foundation of all empirical synthesis. The
transcendental unity of apperception is alone objectively valid; the
empirical which we do not consider in this essay, and which is merely a
unity deduced from the former under given conditions in concreto,
possesses only subjective validity. One person connects the notion
conveyed in a word with one thing, another with another thing; and the
unity of consciousness in that which is empirical, is, in relation to
that which is given by experience, not necessarily and universally
valid.
The Logical Form of all Judgements consists in the Objective Unity of
Apperception of the Conceptions contained therein § 15
I could never satisfy myself with the definition which logicians give
of a judgement. It is, according to them, the representation of a
relation between two conceptions. I shall not dwell here on the
faultiness of this definition, in that it suits only for categorical
and not for hypothetical or disjunctive judgements, these latter
containing a relation not of conceptions but of judgements themselves—a
blunder from which many evil results have followed.[18] It is more
important for our present purpose to observe, that this definition does
not determine in what the said relation consists.
[18] The tedious doctrine of the four syllogistic figures concerns
only categorical syllogisms; and although it is nothing more than
an artifice by surreptitiously introducing immediate conclusions
(consequentiae immediatae) among the premises of a pure syllogism,
to give rise to an appearance of more modes of drawing a conclusion
than that in the first figure, the artifice would not have had much
success, had not its authors succeeded in bringing categorical
judgements into exclusive respect, as those to which all others must
be referred—a doctrine, however, which, according to § 5, is utterly
false.
But if I investigate more closely the relation of given cognitions in
every judgement, and distinguish it, as belonging to the understanding,
from the relation which is produced according to laws of the
reproductive imagination (which has only subjective validity), I find
that judgement is nothing but the mode of bringing given cognitions
under the objective unit of apperception. This is plain from our use of
the term of relation is in judgements, in order to distinguish the
objective unity of given representations from the subjective unity. For
this term indicates the relation of these representations to the
original apperception, and also their necessary unity, even although
the judgement is empirical, therefore contingent, as in the judgement:
“All bodies are heavy.” I do not mean by this, that these
representations do necessarily belong to each other in empirical
intuition, but that by means of the necessary unity of appreciation
they belong to each other in the synthesis of intuitions, that is to
say, they belong to each other according to principles of the objective
determination of all our representations, in so far as cognition can
arise from them, these principles being all deduced from the main
principle of the transcendental unity of apperception. In this way
alone can there arise from this relation a judgement, that is, a
relation which has objective validity, and is perfectly distinct from
that relation of the very same representations which has only
subjective validity—a relation, to wit, which is produced according to
laws of association. According to these laws, I could only say: “When I
hold in my hand or carry a body, I feel an impression of weight”; but I
could not say: “It, the body, is heavy”; for this is tantamount to
saying both these representations are conjoined in the object, that is,
without distinction as to the condition of the subject, and do not
merely stand together in my perception, however frequently the
perceptive act may be repeated.
All Sensuous Intuitions are subject to the Categories, as Conditions
under which alone the manifold Content of them can be united in one
Consciousness § 16
The manifold content given in a sensuous intuition comes necessarily
under the original synthetical unity of apperception, because thereby
alone is the unity of intuition possible (§ 13). But that act of the
understanding, by which the manifold content of given representations
(whether intuitions or conceptions) is brought under one apperception,
is the logical function of judgements (§ 15). All the manifold,
therefore, in so far as it is given in one empirical intuition, is
determined in relation to one of the logical functions of judgement, by
means of which it is brought into union in one consciousness. Now the
categories are nothing else than these functions of judgement so far as
the manifold in a given intuition is determined in relation to them (§
9). Consequently, the manifold in a given intuition is necessarily
subject to the categories of the understanding.
Observation § 17
The manifold in an intuition, which I call mine, is represented by
means of the synthesis of the understanding, as belonging to the
necessary unity of self-consciousness, and this takes place by means of
the category.[19] The category indicates accordingly that the empirical
consciousness of a given manifold in an intuition is subject to a pure
self-consciousness à priori, in the same manner as an empirical
intuition is subject to a pure sensuous intuition, which is also à
priori. In the above proposition, then, lies the beginning of a
deduction of the pure conceptions of the understanding. Now, as the
categories have their origin in the understanding alone, independently
of sensibility, I must in my deduction make abstraction of the mode in
which the manifold of an empirical intuition is given, in order to fix
my attention exclusively on the unity which is brought by the
understanding into the intuition by means of the category. In what
follows (§ 22), it will be shown, from the mode in which the empirical
intuition is given in the faculty of sensibility, that the unity which
belongs to it is no other than that which the category (according to §
16) imposes on the manifold in a given intuition, and thus, its à
priori validity in regard to all objects of sense being established,
the purpose of our deduction will be fully attained.
[19] The proof of this rests on the represented unity of intuition, by
means of which an object is given, and which always includes in itself
a synthesis of the manifold to be intuited, and also the relation of
this latter to unity of apperception.
But there is one thing in the above demonstration of which I could not
make abstraction, namely, that the manifold to be intuited must be
given previously to the synthesis of the understanding, and
independently of it. How this takes place remains here undetermined.
For if I cogitate an understanding which was itself intuitive (as, for
example, a divine understanding which should not represent given
objects, but by whose representation the objects themselves should be
given or produced), the categories would possess no significance in
relation to such a faculty of cognition. They are merely rules for an
understanding, whose whole power consists in thought, that is, in the
act of submitting the synthesis of the manifold which is presented to
it in intuition from a very different quarter, to the unity of
apperception; a faculty, therefore, which cognizes nothing per se, but
only connects and arranges the material of cognition, the intuition,
namely, which must be presented to it by means of the object. But to
show reasons for this peculiar character of our understandings, that it
produces unity of apperception à priori only by means of categories,
and a certain kind and number thereof, is as impossible as to explain
why we are endowed with precisely so many functions of judgement and no
more, or why time and space are the only forms of our intuition.
In Cognition, its Application to Objects of Experience is the only
legitimate use of the Category § 18
To think an object and to cognize an object are by no means the same
thing. In cognition there are two elements: firstly, the conception,
whereby an object is cogitated (the category); and, secondly, the
intuition, whereby the object is given. For supposing that to the
conception a corresponding intuition could not be given, it would still
be a thought as regards its form, but without any object, and no
cognition of anything would be possible by means of it, inasmuch as, so
far as I knew, there existed and could exist nothing to which my
thought could be applied. Now all intuition possible to us is sensuous;
consequently, our thought of an object by means of a pure conception of
the understanding, can become cognition for us only in so far as this
conception is applied to objects of the senses. Sensuous intuition is
either pure intuition (space and time) or empirical intuition—of that
which is immediately represented in space and time by means of
sensation as real. Through the determination of pure intuition we
obtain à priori cognitions of objects, as in mathematics, but only as
regards their form as phenomena; whether there can exist things which
must be intuited in this form is not thereby established. All
mathematical conceptions, therefore, are not per se cognition, except
in so far as we presuppose that there exist things which can only be
represented conformably to the form of our pure sensuous intuition. But
things in space and time are given only in so far as they are
perceptions (representations accompanied with sensation), therefore
only by empirical representation. Consequently the pure conceptions of
the understanding, even when they are applied to intuitions à priori
(as in mathematics), produce cognition only in so far as these (and
therefore the conceptions of the understanding by means of them) can be
applied to empirical intuitions. Consequently the categories do not,
even by means of pure intuition afford us any cognition of things; they
can only do so in so far as they can be applied to empirical intuition.
That is to say, the categories serve only to render empirical cognition
possible. But this is what we call experience. Consequently, in
cognition, their application to objects of experience is the only
legitimate use of the categories.
§ 19
The foregoing proposition is of the utmost importance, for it
determines the limits of the exercise of the pure conceptions of the
understanding in regard to objects, just as transcendental æsthetic
determined the limits of the exercise of the pure form of our sensuous
intuition. Space and time, as conditions of the possibility of the
presentation of objects to us, are valid no further than for objects of
sense, consequently, only for experience. Beyond these limits they
represent to us nothing, for they belong only to sense, and have no
reality apart from it. The pure conceptions of the understanding are
free from this limitation, and extend to objects of intuition in
general, be the intuition like or unlike to ours, provided only it be
sensuous, and not intellectual. But this extension of conceptions
beyond the range of our intuition is of no advantage; for they are then
mere empty conceptions of objects, as to the possibility or
impossibility of the existence of which they furnish us with no means
of discovery. They are mere forms of thought, without objective
reality, because we have no intuition to which the synthetical unity of
apperception, which alone the categories contain, could be applied, for
the purpose of determining an object. Our sensuous and empirical
intuition can alone give them significance and meaning.
If, then, we suppose an object of a non-sensuous intuition to be given
we can in that case represent it by all those predicates which are
implied in the presupposition that nothing appertaining to sensuous
intuition belongs to it; for example, that it is not extended, or in
space; that its duration is not time; that in it no change (the effect
of the determinations in time) is to be met with, and so on. But it is
no proper knowledge if I merely indicate what the intuition of the
object is not, without being able to say what is contained in it, for I
have not shown the possibility of an object to which my pure conception
of understanding could be applicable, because I have not been able to
furnish any intuition corresponding to it, but am only able to say that
our intuition is not valid for it. But the most important point is
this, that to a something of this kind not one category can be found
applicable. Take, for example, the conception of substance, that is,
something that can exist as subject, but never as mere predicate; in
regard to this conception I am quite ignorant whether there can really
be anything to correspond to such a determination of thought, if
empirical intuition did not afford me the occasion for its application.
But of this more in the sequel.
Of the Application of the Categories to Objects of the Senses in
general § 20
The pure conceptions of the understanding apply to objects of intuition
in general, through the understanding alone, whether the intuition be
our own or some other, provided only it be sensuous, but are, for this
very reason, mere forms of thought, by means of which alone no
determined object can be cognized. The synthesis or conjunction of the
manifold in these conceptions relates, we have said, only to the unity
of apperception, and is for this reason the ground of the possibility
of à priori cognition, in so far as this cognition is dependent on the
understanding. This synthesis is, therefore, not merely transcendental,
but also purely intellectual. But because a certain form of sensuous
intuition exists in the mind à priori which rests on the receptivity of
the representative faculty (sensibility), the understanding, as a
spontaneity, is able to determine the internal sense by means of the
diversity of given representations, conformably to the synthetical
unity of apperception, and thus to cogitate the synthetical unity of
the apperception of the manifold of sensuous intuition à priori, as the
condition to which must necessarily be submitted all objects of human
intuition. And in this manner the categories as mere forms of thought
receive objective reality, that is, application to objects which are
given to us in intuition, but that only as phenomena, for it is only of
phenomena that we are capable of à priori intuition.
This synthesis of the manifold of sensuous intuition, which is possible
and necessary à priori, may be called figurative (synthesis speciosa),
in contradistinction to that which is cogitated in the mere category in
regard to the manifold of an intuition in general, and is called
connection or conjunction of the understanding (synthesis
intellectualis). Both are transcendental, not merely because they
themselves precede à priori all experience, but also because they form
the basis for the possibility of other cognition à priori.
But the figurative synthesis, when it has relation only to the
originally synthetical unity of apperception, that is to the
transcendental unity cogitated in the categories, must, to be
distinguished from the purely intellectual conjunction, be entitled the
transcendental synthesis of imagination. Imagination is the faculty of
representing an object even without its presence in intuition. Now, as
all our intuition is sensuous, imagination, by reason of the subjective
condition under which alone it can give a corresponding intuition to
the conceptions of the understanding, belongs to sensibility. But in so
far as the synthesis of the imagination is an act of spontaneity, which
is determinative, and not, like sense, merely determinable, and which
is consequently able to determine sense à priori, according to its
form, conformably to the unity of apperception, in so far is the
imagination a faculty of determining sensibility à priori, and its
synthesis of intuitions according to the categories must be the
transcendental synthesis of the imagination. It is an operation of the
understanding on sensibility, and the first application of the
understanding to objects of possible intuition, and at the same time
the basis for the exercise of the other functions of that faculty. As
figurative, it is distinguished from the merely intellectual synthesis,
which is produced by the understanding alone, without the aid of
imagination. Now, in so far as imagination is spontaneity, I sometimes
call it also the productive imagination, and distinguish it from the
reproductive, the synthesis of which is subject entirely to empirical
laws, those of association, namely, and which, therefore, contributes
nothing to the explanation of the possibility of à priori cognition,
and for this reason belongs not to transcendental philosophy, but to
psychology.
We have now arrived at the proper place for explaining the paradox
which must have struck every one in our exposition of the internal
sense (§ 6), namely—how this sense represents us to our own
consciousness, only as we appear to ourselves, not as we are in
ourselves, because, to wit, we intuite ourselves only as we are
inwardly affected. Now this appears to be contradictory, inasmuch as we
thus stand in a passive relation to ourselves; and therefore in the
systems of psychology, the internal sense is commonly held to be one
with the faculty of apperception, while we, on the contrary, carefully
distinguish them.
That which determines the internal sense is the understanding, and its
original power of conjoining the manifold of intuition, that is, of
bringing this under an apperception (upon which rests the possibility
of the understanding itself). Now, as the human understanding is not in
itself a faculty of intuition, and is unable to exercise such a power,
in order to conjoin, as it were, the manifold of its own intuition, the
synthesis of understanding is, considered per se, nothing but the unity
of action, of which, as such, it is self-conscious, even apart from
sensibility, by which, moreover, it is able to determine our internal
sense in respect of the manifold which may be presented to it according
to the form of sensuous intuition. Thus, under the name of a
transcendental synthesis of imagination, the understanding exercises an
activity upon the passive subject, whose faculty it is; and so we are
right in saying that the internal sense is affected thereby.
Apperception and its synthetical unity are by no means one and the same
with the internal sense. The former, as the source of all our
synthetical conjunction, applies, under the name of the categories, to
the manifold of intuition in general, prior to all sensuous intuition
of objects. The internal sense, on the contrary, contains merely the
form of intuition, but without any synthetical conjunction of the
manifold therein, and consequently does not contain any determined
intuition, which is possible only through consciousness of the
determination of the manifold by the transcendental act of the
imagination (synthetical influence of the understanding on the internal
sense), which I have named figurative synthesis.
This we can indeed always perceive in ourselves. We cannot cogitate a
geometrical line without drawing it in thought, nor a circle without
describing it, nor represent the three dimensions of space without
drawing three lines from the same point perpendicular to one another.
We cannot even cogitate time, unless, in drawing a straight line (which
is to serve as the external figurative representation of time), we fix
our attention on the act of the synthesis of the manifold, whereby we
determine successively the internal sense, and thus attend also to the
succession of this determination. Motion as an act of the subject (not
as a determination of an object),[20] consequently the synthesis of the
manifold in space, if we make abstraction of space and attend merely to
the act by which we determine the internal sense according to its form,
is that which produces the conception of succession. The understanding,
therefore, does by no means find in the internal sense any such
synthesis of the manifold, but produces it, in that it affects this
sense. At the same time, how “I who think” is distinct from the “i”
which intuites itself (other modes of intuition being cogitable as at
least possible), and yet one and the same with this latter as the same
subject; how, therefore, I am able to say: “I, as an intelligence and
thinking subject, cognize myself as an object thought, so far as I am,
moreover, given to myself in intuition—only, like other phenomena, not
as I am in myself, and as considered by the understanding, but merely
as I appear”—is a question that has in it neither more nor less
difficulty than the question—“How can I be an object to myself?” or
this—“How I can be an object of my own intuition and internal
perceptions?” But that such must be the fact, if we admit that space is
merely a pure form of the phenomena of external sense, can be clearly
proved by the consideration that we cannot represent time, which is not
an object of external intuition, in any other way than under the image
of a line, which we draw in thought, a mode of representation without
which we could not cognize the unity of its dimension, and also that we
are necessitated to take our determination of periods of time, or of
points of time, for all our internal perceptions from the changes which
we perceive in outward things. It follows that we must arrange the
determinations of the internal sense, as phenomena in time, exactly in
the same manner as we arrange those of the external senses in space.
And consequently, if we grant, respecting this latter, that by means of
them we know objects only in so far as we are affected externally, we
must also confess, with regard to the internal sense, that by means of
it we intuite ourselves only as we are internally affected by
ourselves; in other words, as regards internal intuition, we cognize
our own subject only as phenomenon, and not as it is in itself.[21]
[20] Motion of an object in space does not belong to a pure science,
consequently not to geometry; because, that a thing is movable cannot
be known à priori, but only from experience. But motion, considered as
the description of a space, is a pure act of the successive synthesis
of the manifold in external intuition by means of productive
imagination, and belongs not only to geometry, but even to
transcendental philosophy.
[21] I do not see why so much difficulty should be found in admitting
that our internal sense is affected by ourselves. Every act of
attention exemplifies it. In such an act the understanding determines
the internal sense by the synthetical conjunction which it cogitates,
conformably to the internal intuition which corresponds to the
manifold in the synthesis of the understanding. How much the mind is
usually affected thereby every one will be able to perceive in
himself.
§ 21
On the other hand, in the transcendental synthesis of the manifold
content of representations, consequently in the synthetical unity of
apperception, I am conscious of myself, not as I appear to myself, nor
as I am in myself, but only that “I am.” This representation is a
thought, not an intuition. Now, as in order to cognize ourselves, in
addition to the act of thinking, which subjects the manifold of every
possible intuition to the unity of apperception, there is necessary a
determinate mode of intuition, whereby this manifold is given; although
my own existence is certainly not mere phenomenon (much less mere
illusion), the determination of my existence[22] Can only take place
conformably to the form of the internal sense, according to the
particular mode in which the manifold which I conjoin is given in
internal intuition, and I have therefore no knowledge of myself as I
am, but merely as I appear to myself. The consciousness of self is thus
very far from a knowledge of self, in which I do not use the
categories, whereby I cogitate an object, by means of the conjunction
of the manifold in one apperception. In the same way as I require, for
the sake of the cognition of an object distinct from myself, not only
the thought of an object in general (in the category), but also an
intuition by which to determine that general conception, in the same
way do I require, in order to the cognition of myself, not only the
consciousness of myself or the thought that I think myself, but in
addition an intuition of the manifold in myself, by which to determine
this thought. It is true that I exist as an intelligence which is
conscious only of its faculty of conjunction or synthesis, but
subjected in relation to the manifold which this intelligence has to
conjoin to a limitative conjunction called the internal sense. My
intelligence (that is, I) can render that conjunction or synthesis
perceptible only according to the relations of time, which are quite
beyond the proper sphere of the conceptions of the understanding and
consequently cognize itself in respect to an intuition (which cannot
possibly be intellectual, nor given by the understanding), only as it
appears to itself, and not as it would cognize itself, if its intuition
were intellectual.
[22] The “I think” expresses the act of determining my own existence.
My existence is thus already given by the act of consciousness; but
the mode in which I must determine my existence, that is, the mode in
which I must place the manifold belonging to my existence, is not
thereby given. For this purpose intuition of self is required, and
this intuition possesses a form given à priori, namely, time, which is
sensuous, and belongs to our receptivity of the determinable. Now, as
I do not possess another intuition of self which gives the determining
in me (of the spontaneity of which I am conscious), prior to the act
of determination, in the same manner as time gives the determinable,
it is clear that I am unable to determine my own existence as that of
a spontaneous being, but I am only able to represent to myself the
spontaneity of my thought, that is, of my determination, and my
existence remains ever determinable in a purely sensuous manner, that
is to say, like the existence of a phenomenon. But it is because of
this spontaneity that I call myself an intelligence.
Transcendental Deduction of the universally possible employment in
experience of the Pure Conceptions of the Understanding § 22
In the metaphysical deduction, the à priori origin of categories was
proved by their complete accordance with the general logical of
thought; in the transcendental deduction was exhibited the possibility
of the categories as à priori cognitions of objects of an intuition in
general (§ 16 and 17).At present we are about to explain the
possibility of cognizing, à priori, by means of the categories, all
objects which can possibly be presented to our senses, not, indeed,
according to the form of their intuition, but according to the laws of
their conjunction or synthesis, and thus, as it were, of prescribing
laws to nature and even of rendering nature possible. For if the
categories were inadequate to this task, it would not be evident to us
why everything that is presented to our senses must be subject to those
laws which have an à priori origin in the understanding itself.
I premise that by the term synthesis of apprehension I understand the
combination of the manifold in an empirical intuition, whereby
perception, that is, empirical consciousness of the intuition (as
phenomenon), is possible.
We have à priori forms of the external and internal sensuous intuition
in the representations of space and time, and to these must the
synthesis of apprehension of the manifold in a phenomenon be always
comformable, because the synthesis itself can only take place according
to these forms. But space and time are not merely forms of sensuous
intuition, but intuitions themselves (which contain a manifold), and
therefore contain à priori the determination of the unity of this
manifold.[23] (See the Transcendent Æsthetic.) Therefore is unity of
the synthesis of the manifold without or within us, consequently also a
conjunction to which all that is to be represented as determined in
space or time must correspond, given à priori along with (not in) these
intuitions, as the condition of the synthesis of all apprehension of
them. But this synthetical unity can be no other than that of the
conjunction of the manifold of a given intuition in general, in a
primitive act of consciousness, according to the categories, but
applied to our sensuous intuition. Consequently all synthesis, whereby
alone is even perception possible, is subject to the categories. And,
as experience is cognition by means of conjoined perceptions, the
categories are conditions of the possibility of experience and are
therefore valid à priori for all objects of experience.
[23] Space represented as an object (as geometry really requires it to
be) contains more than the mere form of the intuition; namely, a
combination of the manifold given according to the form of sensibility
into a representation that can be intuited; so that the form of the
intuition gives us merely the manifold, but the formal intuition gives
unity of representation. In the æsthetic, I regarded this unity as
belonging entirely to sensibility, for the purpose of indicating that
it antecedes all conceptions, although it presupposes a synthesis
which does not belong to sense, through which alone, however, all our
conceptions of space and time are possible. For as by means of this
unity alone (the understanding determining the sensibility) space and
time are given as intuitions, it follows that the unity of this
intuition à priori belongs to space and time, and not to the
conception of the understanding (§ 20).
When, then, for example, I make the empirical intuition of a house by
apprehension of the manifold contained therein into a perception, the
necessary unity of space and of my external sensuous intuition lies at
the foundation of this act, and I, as it were, draw the form of the
house conformably to this synthetical unity of the manifold in space.
But this very synthetical unity remains, even when I abstract the form
of space, and has its seat in the understanding, and is in fact the
category of the synthesis of the homogeneous in an intuition; that is
to say, the category of quantity, to which the aforesaid synthesis of
apprehension, that is, the perception, must be completely
conformable.[24]
[24] In this manner it is proved, that the synthesis of apprehension,
which is empirical, must necessarily be conformable to the synthesis
of apperception, which is intellectual, and contained à priori in the
category. It is one and the same spontaneity which at one time, under
the name of imagination, at another under that of understanding,
produces conjunction in the manifold of intuition.
To take another example, when I perceive the freezing of water, I
apprehend two states (fluidity and solidity), which, as such, stand
toward each other mutually in a relation of time. But in the time,
which I place as an internal intuition, at the foundation of this
phenomenon, I represent to myself synthetical unity of the manifold,
without which the aforesaid relation could not be given in an intuition
as determined (in regard to the succession of time). Now this
synthetical unity, as the à priori condition under which I conjoin the
manifold of an intuition, is, if I make abstraction of the permanent
form of my internal intuition (that is to say, of time), the category
of cause, by means of which, when applied to my sensibility, I
determine everything that occurs according to relations of time.
Consequently apprehension in such an event, and the event itself, as
far as regards the possibility of its perception, stands under the
conception of the relation of cause and effect: and so in all other
cases.
Categories are conceptions which prescribe laws à priori to phenomena,
consequently to nature as the complex of all phenomena (natura
materialiter spectata). And now the question arises—inasmuch as these
categories are not derived from nature, and do not regulate themselves
according to her as their model (for in that case they would be
empirical)—how it is conceivable that nature must regulate herself
according to them, in other words, how the categories can determine à
priori the synthesis of the manifold of nature, and yet not derive
their origin from her. The following is the solution of this enigma.
It is not in the least more difficult to conceive how the laws of the
phenomena of nature must harmonize with the understanding and with its
à priori form—that is, its faculty of conjoining the manifold—than it
is to understand how the phenomena themselves must correspond with the
à priori form of our sensuous intuition. For laws do not exist in the
phenomena any more than the phenomena exist as things in themselves.
Laws do not exist except by relation to the subject in which the
phenomena inhere, in so far as it possesses understanding, just as
phenomena have no existence except by relation to the same existing
subject in so far as it has senses. To things as things in themselves,
conformability to law must necessarily belong independently of an
understanding to cognize them. But phenomena are only representations
of things which are utterly unknown in respect to what they are in
themselves. But as mere representations, they stand under no law of
conjunction except that which the conjoining faculty prescribes. Now
that which conjoins the manifold of sensuous intuition is imagination,
a mental act to which understanding contributes unity of intellectual
synthesis, and sensibility, manifoldness of apprehension. Now as all
possible perception depends on the synthesis of apprehension, and this
empirical synthesis itself on the transcendental, consequently on the
categories, it is evident that all possible perceptions, and therefore
everything that can attain to empirical consciousness, that is, all
phenomena of nature, must, as regards their conjunction, be subject to
the categories. And nature (considered merely as nature in general) is
dependent on them, as the original ground of her necessary
conformability to law (as natura formaliter spectata). But the pure
faculty (of the understanding) of prescribing laws à priori to
phenomena by means of mere categories, is not competent to enounce
other or more laws than those on which a nature in general, as a
conformability to law of phenomena of space and time, depends.
Particular laws, inasmuch as they concern empirically determined
phenomena, cannot be entirely deduced from pure laws, although they all
stand under them. Experience must be superadded in order to know these
particular laws; but in regard to experience in general, and everything
that can be cognized as an object thereof, these à priori laws are our
only rule and guide.
Result of this Deduction of the Conceptions of the Understanding § 23
We cannot think any object except by means of the categories; we cannot
cognize any thought except by means of intuitions corresponding to
these conceptions. Now all our intuitions are sensuous, and our
cognition, in so far as the object of it is given, is empirical. But
empirical cognition is experience; consequently no à priori cognition
is possible for us, except of objects of possible experience.[25]
[25] Lest my readers should stumble at this assertion, and the
conclusions that may be too rashly drawn from it, I must remind them
that the categories in the act of thought are by no means limited by
the conditions of our sensuous intuition, but have an unbounded sphere
of action. It is only the cognition of the object of thought, the
determining of the object, which requires intuition. In the absence of
intuition, our thought of an object may still have true and useful
consequences in regard to the exercise of reason by the subject. But
as this exercise of reason is not always directed on the determination
of the object, in other words, on cognition thereof, but also on the
determination of the subject and its volition, I do not intend to
treat of it in this place.
But this cognition, which is limited to objects of experience, is not
for that reason derived entirely, from, experience, but—and this is
asserted of the pure intuitions and the pure conceptions of the
understanding—there are, unquestionably, elements of cognition, which
exist in the mind à priori. Now there are only two ways in which a
necessary harmony of experience with the conceptions of its objects can
be cogitated. Either experience makes these conceptions possible, or
the conceptions make experience possible. The former of these
statements will not hold good with respect to the categories (nor in
regard to pure sensuous intuition), for they are à priori conceptions,
and therefore independent of experience. The assertion of an empirical
origin would attribute to them a sort of generatio aequivoca.
Consequently, nothing remains but to adopt the second alternative
(which presents us with a system, as it were, of the epigenesis of pure
reason), namely, that on the part of the understanding the categories
do contain the grounds of the possibility of all experience. But with
respect to the questions how they make experience possible, and what
are the principles of the possibility thereof with which they present
us in their application to phenomena, the following section on the
transcendental exercise of the faculty of judgement will inform the
reader.
It is quite possible that someone may propose a species of
preformation-system of pure reason—a middle way between the two—to wit,
that the categories are neither innate and first à priori principles of
cognition, nor derived from experience, but are merely subjective
aptitudes for thought implanted in us contemporaneously with our
existence, which were so ordered and disposed by our Creator, that
their exercise perfectly harmonizes with the laws of nature which
regulate experience. Now, not to mention that with such an hypothesis
it is impossible to say at what point we must stop in the employment of
predetermined aptitudes, the fact that the categories would in this
case entirely lose that character of necessity which is essentially
involved in the very conception of them, is a conclusive objection to
it. The conception of cause, for example, which expresses the necessity
of an effect under a presupposed condition, would be false, if it
rested only upon such an arbitrary subjective necessity of uniting
certain empirical representations according to such a rule of relation.
I could not then say—“The effect is connected with its cause in the
object (that is, necessarily),” but only, “I am so constituted that I
can think this representation as so connected, and not otherwise.” Now
this is just what the sceptic wants. For in this case, all our
knowledge, depending on the supposed objective validity of our
judgement, is nothing but mere illusion; nor would there be wanting
people who would deny any such subjective necessity in respect to
themselves, though they must feel it. At all events, we could not
dispute with any one on that which merely depends on the manner in
which his subject is organized.
Short view of the above Deduction.
The foregoing deduction is an exposition of the pure conceptions of the
understanding (and with them of all theoretical à priori cognition), as
principles of the possibility of experience, but of experience as the
determination of all phenomena in space and time in general—of
experience, finally, from the principle of the original synthetical
unity of apperception, as the form of the understanding in relation to
time and space as original forms of sensibility.
I consider the division by paragraphs to be necessary only up to this
point, because we had to treat of the elementary conceptions. As we now
proceed to the exposition of the employment of these, I shall not
designate the chapters in this manner any further.
BOOK II. Analytic of Principles
General logic is constructed upon a plan which coincides exactly with
the division of the higher faculties of cognition. These are,
understanding, judgement, and reason. This science, accordingly, treats
in its analytic of conceptions, judgements, and conclusions in exact
correspondence with the functions and order of those mental powers
which we include generally under the generic denomination of
understanding.
As this merely formal logic makes abstraction of all content of
cognition, whether pure or empirical, and occupies itself with the mere
form of thought (discursive cognition), it must contain in its analytic
a canon for reason. For the form of reason has its law, which, without
taking into consideration the particular nature of the cognition about
which it is employed, can be discovered à priori, by the simple
analysis of the action of reason into its momenta.
Transcendental logic, limited as it is to a determinate content, that
of pure à priori cognitions, to wit, cannot imitate general logic in
this division. For it is evident that the transcendental employment of
reason is not objectively valid, and therefore does not belong to the
logic of truth (that is, to analytic), but as a logic of illusion,
occupies a particular department in the scholastic system under the
name of transcendental dialectic.
Understanding and judgement accordingly possess in transcendental logic
a canon of objectively valid, and therefore true exercise, and are
comprehended in the analytical department of that logic. But reason, in
her endeavours to arrive by à priori means at some true statement
concerning objects and to extend cognition beyond the bounds of
possible experience, is altogether dialectic, and her illusory
assertions cannot be constructed into a canon such as an analytic ought
to contain.
Accordingly, the analytic of principles will be merely a canon for the
faculty of judgement, for the instruction of this faculty in its
application to phenomena of the pure conceptions of the understanding,
which contain the necessary condition for the establishment of à priori
laws. On this account, although the subject of the following chapters
is the especial principles of understanding, I shall make use of the
term Doctrine of the faculty of judgement, in order to define more
particularly my present purpose.
INTRODUCTION. Of the Transcendental Faculty of judgement in General
If understanding in general be defined as the faculty of laws or rules,
the faculty of judgement may be termed the faculty of subsumption under
these rules; that is, of distinguishing whether this or that does or
does not stand under a given rule (casus datae legis). General logic
contains no directions or precepts for the faculty of judgement, nor
can it contain any such. For as it makes abstraction of all content of
cognition, no duty is left for it, except that of exposing analytically
the mere form of cognition in conceptions, judgements, and conclusions,
and of thereby establishing formal rules for all exercise of the
understanding. Now if this logic wished to give some general direction
how we should subsume under these rules, that is, how we should
distinguish whether this or that did or did not stand under them, this
again could not be done otherwise than by means of a rule. But this
rule, precisely because it is a rule, requires for itself direction
from the faculty of judgement. Thus, it is evident that the
understanding is capable of being instructed by rules, but that the
judgement is a peculiar talent, which does not, and cannot require
tuition, but only exercise. This faculty is therefore the specific
quality of the so-called mother wit, the want of which no scholastic
discipline can compensate.
For although education may furnish, and, as it were, engraft upon a
limited understanding rules borrowed from other minds, yet the power of
employing these rules correctly must belong to the pupil himself; and
no rule which we can prescribe to him with this purpose is, in the
absence or deficiency of this gift of nature, secure from misuse.[26] A
physician therefore, a judge or a statesman, may have in his head many
admirable pathological, juridical, or political rules, in a degree that
may enable him to be a profound teacher in his particular science, and
yet in the application of these rules he may very possibly
blunder—either because he is wanting in natural judgement (though not
in understanding) and, whilst he can comprehend the general in
abstracto, cannot distinguish whether a particular case in concreto
ought to rank under the former; or because his faculty of judgement has
not been sufficiently exercised by examples and real practice. Indeed,
the grand and only use of examples, is to sharpen the judgement. For as
regards the correctness and precision of the insight of the
understanding, examples are commonly injurious rather than otherwise,
because, as casus in terminis they seldom adequately fulfil the
conditions of the rule. Besides, they often weaken the power of our
understanding to apprehend rules or laws in their universality,
independently of particular circumstances of experience; and hence,
accustom us to employ them more as formulae than as principles.
Examples are thus the go-cart of the judgement, which he who is
naturally deficient in that faculty cannot afford to dispense with.
[26] Deficiency in judgement is properly that which is called
stupidity; and for such a failing we know no remedy. A dull or
narrow-minded person, to whom nothing is wanting but a proper degree
of understanding, may be improved by tuition, even so far as to
deserve the epithet of learned. But as such persons frequently labour
under a deficiency in the faculty of judgement, it is not uncommon to
find men extremely learned who in the application of their science
betray a lamentable degree this irremediable want.
But although general logic cannot give directions to the faculty of
judgement, the case is very different as regards transcendental logic,
insomuch that it appears to be the especial duty of the latter to
secure and direct, by means of determinate rules, the faculty of
judgement in the employment of the pure understanding. For, as a
doctrine, that is, as an endeavour to enlarge the sphere of the
understanding in regard to pure à priori cognitions, philosophy is
worse than useless, since from all the attempts hitherto made, little
or no ground has been gained. But, as a critique, in order to guard
against the mistakes of the faculty of judgement (lapsus judicii) in
the employment of the few pure conceptions of the understanding which
we possess, although its use is in this case purely negative,
philosophy is called upon to apply all its acuteness and penetration.
But transcendental philosophy has this peculiarity, that besides
indicating the rule, or rather the general condition for rules, which
is given in the pure conception of the understanding, it can, at the
same time, indicate à priori the case to which the rule must be
applied. The cause of the superiority which, in this respect,
transcendental philosophy possesses above all other sciences except
mathematics, lies in this: it treats of conceptions which must relate à
priori to their objects, whose objective validity consequently cannot
be demonstrated à posteriori, and is, at the same time, under the
obligation of presenting in general but sufficient tests, the
conditions under which objects can be given in harmony with those
conceptions; otherwise they would be mere logical forms, without
content, and not pure conceptions of the understanding.
Our transcendental doctrine of the faculty of judgement will contain
two chapters. The first will treat of the sensuous condition under
which alone pure conceptions of the understanding can be employed—that
is, of the schematism of the pure understanding. The second will treat
of those synthetical judgements which are derived à priori from pure
conceptions of the understanding under those conditions, and which lie
à priori at the foundation of all other cognitions, that is to say, it
will treat of the principles of the pure understanding.
TRANSCENDENTAL DOCTRINE OF THE FACULTY OF JUDGEMENT OR, ANALYTIC OF
PRINCIPLES
Chapter I. Of the Schematism at of the Pure Conceptions of the
Understanding
In all subsumptions of an object under a conception, the representation
of the object must be homogeneous with the conception; in other words,
the conception must contain that which is represented in the object to
be subsumed under it. For this is the meaning of the expression: “An
object is contained under a conception.” Thus the empirical conception
of a plate is homogeneous with the pure geometrical conception of a
circle, inasmuch as the roundness which is cogitated in the former is
intuited in the latter.
But pure conceptions of the understanding, when compared with empirical
intuitions, or even with sensuous intuitions in general, are quite
heterogeneous, and never can be discovered in any intuition. How then
is the subsumption of the latter under the former, and consequently the
application of the categories to phenomena, possible?—For it is
impossible to say, for example: “Causality can be intuited through the
senses and is contained in the phenomenon.”—This natural and important
question forms the real cause of the necessity of a transcendental
doctrine of the faculty of judgement, with the purpose, to wit, of
showing how pure conceptions of the understanding can be applied to
phenomena. In all other sciences, where the conceptions by which the
object is thought in the general are not so different and heterogeneous
from those which represent the object in concreto—as it is given, it is
quite unnecessary to institute any special inquiries concerning the
application of the former to the latter.
Now it is quite clear that there must be some third thing, which on the
one side is homogeneous with the category, and with the phenomenon on
the other, and so makes the application of the former to the latter
possible. This mediating representation must be pure (without any
empirical content), and yet must on the one side be intellectual, on
the other sensuous. Such a representation is the transcendental schema.
The conception of the understanding contains pure synthetical unity of
the manifold in general. Time, as the formal condition of the manifold
of the internal sense, consequently of the conjunction of all
representations, contains à priori a manifold in the pure intuition.
Now a transcendental determination of time is so far homogeneous with
the category, which constitutes the unity thereof, that it is universal
and rests upon a rule à priori. On the other hand, it is so far
homogeneous with the phenomenon, inasmuch as time is contained in every
empirical representation of the manifold. Thus an application of the
category to phenomena becomes possible, by means of the transcendental
determination of time, which, as the schema of the conceptions of the
understanding, mediates the subsumption of the latter under the former.
After what has been proved in our deduction of the categories, no one,
it is to be hoped, can hesitate as to the proper decision of the
question, whether the employment of these pure conceptions of the
understanding ought to be merely empirical or also transcendental; in
other words, whether the categories, as conditions of a possible
experience, relate à priori solely to phenomena, or whether, as
conditions of the possibility of things in general, their application
can be extended to objects as things in themselves. For we have there
seen that conceptions are quite impossible, and utterly without
signification, unless either to them, or at least to the elements of
which they consist, an object be given; and that, consequently, they
cannot possibly apply to objects as things in themselves without regard
to the question whether and how these may be given to us; and, further,
that the only manner in which objects can be given to us is by means of
the modification of our sensibility; and, finally, that pure à priori
conceptions, in addition to the function of the understanding in the
category, must contain à priori formal conditions of sensibility (of
the internal sense, namely), which again contain the general condition
under which alone the category can be applied to any object. This
formal and pure condition of sensibility, to which the conception of
the understanding is restricted in its employment, we shall name the
schema of the conception of the understanding, and the procedure of the
understanding with these schemata we shall call the schematism of the
pure understanding.
The schema is, in itself, always a mere product of the imagination.
But, as the synthesis of imagination has for its aim no single
intuition, but merely unity in the determination of sensibility, the
schema is clearly distinguishable from the image. Thus, if I place five
points one after another.... this is an image of the number five. On
the other hand, if I only think a number in general, which may be
either five or a hundred, this thought is rather the representation of
a method of representing in an image a sum (e.g., a thousand) in
conformity with a conception, than the image itself, an image which I
should find some little difficulty in reviewing, and comparing with the
conception. Now this representation of a general procedure of the
imagination to present its image to a conception, I call the schema of
this conception.
In truth, it is not images of objects, but schemata, which lie at the
foundation of our pure sensuous conceptions. No image could ever be
adequate to our conception of a triangle in general. For the
generalness of the conception it never could attain to, as this
includes under itself all triangles, whether right-angled,
acute-angled, etc., whilst the image would always be limited to a
single part of this sphere. The schema of the triangle can exist
nowhere else than in thought, and it indicates a rule of the synthesis
of the imagination in regard to pure figures in space. Still less is an
object of experience, or an image of the object, ever to the empirical
conception. On the contrary, the conception always relates immediately
to the schema of the imagination, as a rule for the determination of
our intuition, in conformity with a certain general conception. The
conception of a dog indicates a rule, according to which my imagination
can delineate the figure of a four-footed animal in general, without
being limited to any particular individual form which experience
presents to me, or indeed to any possible image that I can represent to
myself in concreto. This schematism of our understanding in regard to
phenomena and their mere form, is an art, hidden in the depths of the
human soul, whose true modes of action we shall only with difficulty
discover and unveil. Thus much only can we say: “The image is a product
of the empirical faculty of the productive imagination—the schema of
sensuous conceptions (of figures in space, for example) is a product,
and, as it were, a monogram of the pure imagination à priori, whereby
and according to which images first become possible, which, however,
can be connected with the conception only mediately by means of the
schema which they indicate, and are in themselves never fully adequate
to it.” On the other hand, the schema of a pure conception of the
understanding is something that cannot be reduced into any image—it is
nothing else than the pure synthesis expressed by the category,
conformably, to a rule of unity according to conceptions. It is a
transcendental product of the imagination, a product which concerns the
determination of the internal sense, according to conditions of its
form (time) in respect to all representations, in so far as these
representations must be conjoined à priori in one conception,
conformably to the unity of apperception.
Without entering upon a dry and tedious analysis of the essential
requisites of transcendental schemata of the pure conceptions of the
understanding, we shall rather proceed at once to give an explanation
of them according to the order of the categories, and in connection
therewith.
For the external sense the pure image of all quantities (quantorum) is
space; the pure image of all objects of sense in general, is time. But
the pure schema of quantity (quantitatis) as a conception of the
understanding, is number, a representation which comprehends the
successive addition of one to one (homogeneous quantities). Thus,
number is nothing else than the unity of the synthesis of the manifold
in a homogeneous intuition, by means of my generating time itself in my
apprehension of the intuition.
Reality, in the pure conception of the understanding, is that which
corresponds to a sensation in general; that, consequently, the
conception of which indicates a being (in time). Negation is that the
conception of which represents a not-being (in time). The opposition of
these two consists therefore in the difference of one and the same
time, as a time filled or a time empty. Now as time is only the form of
intuition, consequently of objects as phenomena, that which in objects
corresponds to sensation is the transcendental matter of all objects as
things in themselves (Sachheit, reality). Now every sensation has a
degree or quantity by which it can fill time, that is to say, the
internal sense in respect of the representation of an object, more or
less, until it vanishes into nothing (= 0 = negatio). Thus there is a
relation and connection between reality and negation, or rather a
transition from the former to the latter, which makes every reality
representable to us as a quantum; and the schema of a reality as the
quantity of something in so far as it fills time, is exactly this
continuous and uniform generation of the reality in time, as we descend
in time from the sensation which has a certain degree, down to the
vanishing thereof, or gradually ascend from negation to the quantity
thereof.
The schema of substance is the permanence of the real in time; that is,
the representation of it as a substratum of the empirical determination
of time; a substratum which therefore remains, whilst all else changes.
(Time passes not, but in it passes the existence of the changeable. To
time, therefore, which is itself unchangeable and permanent,
corresponds that which in the phenomenon is unchangeable in existence,
that is, substance, and it is only by it that the succession and
coexistence of phenomena can be determined in regard to time.)
The schema of cause and of the causality of a thing is the real which,
when posited, is always followed by something else. It consists,
therefore, in the succession of the manifold, in so far as that
succession is subjected to a rule.
The schema of community (reciprocity of action and reaction), or the
reciprocal causality of substances in respect of their accidents, is
the coexistence of the determinations of the one with those of the
other, according to a general rule.
The schema of possibility is the accordance of the synthesis of
different representations with the conditions of time in general (as,
for example, opposites cannot exist together at the same time in the
same thing, but only after each other), and is therefore the
determination of the representation of a thing at any time.
The schema of reality is existence in a determined time.
The schema of necessity is the existence of an object in all time.
It is clear, from all this, that the schema of the category of quantity
contains and represents the generation (synthesis) of time itself, in
the successive apprehension of an object; the schema of quality the
synthesis of sensation with the representation of time, or the filling
up of time; the schema of relation the relation of perceptions to each
other in all time (that is, according to a rule of the determination of
time): and finally, the schema of modality and its categories, time
itself, as the correlative of the determination of an object—whether it
does belong to time, and how. The schemata, therefore, are nothing but
à priori determinations of time according to rules, and these, in
regard to all possible objects, following the arrangement of the
categories, relate to the series in time, the content in time, the
order in time, and finally, to the complex or totality in time.
Hence it is apparent that the schematism of the understanding, by means
of the transcendental synthesis of the imagination, amounts to nothing
else than the unity of the manifold of intuition in the internal sense,
and thus indirectly to the unity of apperception, as a function
corresponding to the internal sense (a receptivity). Thus, the schemata
of the pure conceptions of the understanding are the true and only
conditions whereby our understanding receives an application to
objects, and consequently significance. Finally, therefore, the
categories are only capable of empirical use, inasmuch as they serve
merely to subject phenomena to the universal rules of synthesis, by
means of an à priori necessary unity (on account of the necessary union
of all consciousness in one original apperception); and so to render
them susceptible of a complete connection in one experience. But within
this whole of possible experience lie all our cognitions, and in the
universal relation to this experience consists transcendental truth,
which antecedes all empirical truth, and renders the latter possible.
It is, however, evident at first sight, that although the schemata of
sensibility are the sole agents in realizing the categories, they do,
nevertheless, also restrict them, that is, they limit the categories by
conditions which lie beyond the sphere of understanding—namely, in
sensibility. Hence the schema is properly only the phenomenon, or the
sensuous conception of an object in harmony with the category. (Numerus
est quantitas phaenomenon—sensatio realitas phaenomenon; constans et
perdurabile rerum substantia phaenomenon—aeternitas, necessitas,
phaenomena, etc.) Now, if we remove a restrictive condition, we thereby
amplify, it appears, the formerly limited conception. In this way, the
categories in their pure signification, free from all conditions of
sensibility, ought to be valid of things as they are, and not, as the
schemata represent them, merely as they appear; and consequently the
categories must have a significance far more extended, and wholly
independent of all schemata. In truth, there does always remain to the
pure conceptions of the understanding, after abstracting every sensuous
condition, a value and significance, which is, however, merely logical.
But in this case, no object is given them, and therefore they have no
meaning sufficient to afford us a conception of an object. The notion
of substance, for example, if we leave out the sensuous determination
of permanence, would mean nothing more than a something which can be
cogitated as subject, without the possibility of becoming a predicate
to anything else. Of this representation I can make nothing, inasmuch
as it does not indicate to me what determinations the thing possesses
which must thus be valid as premier subject. Consequently, the
categories, without schemata are merely functions of the understanding
for the production of conceptions, but do not represent any object.
This significance they derive from sensibility, which at the same time
realizes the understanding and restricts it.
Chapter II. System of all Principles of the Pure Understanding
In the foregoing chapter we have merely considered the general
conditions under which alone the transcendental faculty of judgement is
justified in using the pure conceptions of the understanding for
synthetical judgements. Our duty at present is to exhibit in systematic
connection those judgements which the understanding really produces à
priori. For this purpose, our table of the categories will certainly
afford us the natural and safe guidance. For it is precisely the
categories whose application to possible experience must constitute all
pure à priori cognition of the understanding; and the relation of which
to sensibility will, on that very account, present us with a complete
and systematic catalogue of all the transcendental principles of the
use of the understanding.
Principles à priori are so called, not merely because they contain in
themselves the grounds of other judgements, but also because they
themselves are not grounded in higher and more general cognitions. This
peculiarity, however, does not raise them altogether above the need of
a proof. For although there could be found no higher cognition, and
therefore no objective proof, and although such a principle rather
serves as the foundation for all cognition of the object, this by no
means hinders us from drawing a proof from the subjective sources of
the possibility of the cognition of an object. Such a proof is
necessary, moreover, because without it the principle might be liable
to the imputation of being a mere gratuitous assertion.
In the second place, we shall limit our investigations to those
principles which relate to the categories. For as to the principles of
transcendental æsthetic, according to which space and time are the
conditions of the possibility of things as phenomena, as also the
restriction of these principles, namely, that they cannot be applied to
objects as things in themselves—these, of course, do not fall within
the scope of our present inquiry. In like manner, the principles of
mathematical science form no part of this system, because they are all
drawn from intuition, and not from the pure conception of the
understanding. The possibility of these principles, however, will
necessarily be considered here, inasmuch as they are synthetical
judgements à priori, not indeed for the purpose of proving their
accuracy and apodeictic certainty, which is unnecessary, but merely to
render conceivable and deduce the possibility of such evident à priori
cognitions.
But we shall have also to speak of the principle of analytical
judgements, in opposition to synthetical judgements, which is the
proper subject of our inquiries, because this very opposition will free
the theory of the latter from all ambiguity, and place it clearly
before our eyes in its true nature.
SYSTEM OF THE PRINCIPLES OF THE PURE UNDERSTANDING
Section I. Of the Supreme Principle of all Analytical Judgements
Whatever may be the content of our cognition, and in whatever manner
our cognition may be related to its object, the universal, although
only negative conditions of all our judgements is that they do not
contradict themselves; otherwise these judgements are in themselves
(even without respect to the object) nothing. But although there may
exist no contradiction in our judgement, it may nevertheless connect
conceptions in such a manner that they do not correspond to the object,
or without any grounds either à priori or à posteriori for arriving at
such a judgement, and thus, without being self-contradictory, a
judgement may nevertheless be either false or groundless.
Now, the proposition: “No subject can have a predicate that contradicts
it,” is called the principle of contradiction, and is a universal but
purely negative criterion of all truth. But it belongs to logic alone,
because it is valid of cognitions, merely as cognitions and without
respect to their content, and declares that the contradiction entirely
nullifies them. We can also, however, make a positive use of this
principle, that is, not merely to banish falsehood and error (in so far
as it rests upon contradiction), but also for the cognition of truth.
For if the judgement is analytical, be it affirmative or negative, its
truth must always be recognizable by means of the principle of
contradiction. For the contrary of that which lies and is cogitated as
conception in the cognition of the object will be always properly
negatived, but the conception itself must always be affirmed of the
object, inasmuch as the contrary thereof would be in contradiction to
the object.
We must therefore hold the principle of contradiction to be the
universal and fully sufficient Principle of all analytical cognition.
But as a sufficient criterion of truth, it has no further utility or
authority. For the fact that no cognition can be at variance with this
principle without nullifying itself, constitutes this principle the
sine qua non, but not the determining ground of the truth of our
cognition. As our business at present is properly with the synthetical
part of our knowledge only, we shall always be on our guard not to
transgress this inviolable principle; but at the same time not to
expect from it any direct assistance in the establishment of the truth
of any synthetical proposition.
There exists, however, a formula of this celebrated principle—a
principle merely formal and entirely without content—which contains a
synthesis that has been inadvertently and quite unnecessarily mixed up
with it. It is this: “It is impossible for a thing to be and not to be
at the same time.” Not to mention the superfluousness of the addition
of the word impossible to indicate the apodeictic certainty, which
ought to be self-evident from the proposition itself, the proposition
is affected by the condition of time, and as it were says: “A thing =
A, which is something = B, cannot at the same time be non-B.” But both,
B as well as non-B, may quite well exist in succession. For example, a
man who is young cannot at the same time be old; but the same man can
very well be at one time young, and at another not young, that is, old.
Now the principle of contradiction as a merely logical proposition must
not by any means limit its application merely to relations of time, and
consequently a formula like the preceding is quite foreign to its true
purpose. The misunderstanding arises in this way. We first of all
separate a predicate of a thing from the conception of the thing, and
afterwards connect with this predicate its opposite, and hence do not
establish any contradiction with the subject, but only with its
predicate, which has been conjoined with the subject synthetically—a
contradiction, moreover, which obtains only when the first and second
predicate are affirmed in the same time. If I say: “A man who is
ignorant is not learned,” the condition “at the same time” must be
added, for he who is at one time ignorant, may at another be learned.
But if I say: “No ignorant man is a learned man,” the proposition is
analytical, because the characteristic ignorance is now a constituent
part of the conception of the subject; and in this case the negative
proposition is evident immediately from the proposition of
contradiction, without the necessity of adding the condition “the same
time.” This is the reason why I have altered the formula of this
principle—an alteration which shows very clearly the nature of an
analytical proposition.
Section II. Of the Supreme Principle of all Synthetical Judgements
The explanation of the possibility of synthetical judgements is a task
with which general logic has nothing to do; indeed she needs not even
be acquainted with its name. But in transcendental logic it is the most
important matter to be dealt with—indeed the only one, if the question
is of the possibility of synthetical judgements à priori, the
conditions and extent of their validity. For when this question is
fully decided, it can reach its aim with perfect ease, the
determination, to wit, of the extent and limits of the pure
understanding.
In an analytical judgement I do not go beyond the given conception, in
order to arrive at some decision respecting it. If the judgement is
affirmative, I predicate of the conception only that which was already
cogitated in it; if negative, I merely exclude from the conception its
contrary. But in synthetical judgements, I must go beyond the given
conception, in order to cogitate, in relation with it, something quite
different from that which was cogitated in it, a relation which is
consequently never one either of identity or contradiction, and by
means of which the truth or error of the judgement cannot be discerned
merely from the judgement itself.
Granted, then, that we must go out beyond a given conception, in order
to compare it synthetically with another, a third thing is necessary,
in which alone the synthesis of two conceptions can originate. Now what
is this tertium quid that is to be the medium of all synthetical
judgements? It is only a complex in which all our representations are
contained, the internal sense to wit, and its form à priori, time.
The synthesis of our representations rests upon the imagination; their
synthetical unity (which is requisite to a judgement), upon the unity
of apperception. In this, therefore, is to be sought the possibility of
synthetical judgements, and as all three contain the sources of à
priori representations, the possibility of pure synthetical judgements
also; nay, they are necessary upon these grounds, if we are to possess
a knowledge of objects, which rests solely upon the synthesis of
representations.
If a cognition is to have objective reality, that is, to relate to an
object, and possess sense and meaning in respect to it, it is necessary
that the object be given in some way or another. Without this, our
conceptions are empty, and we may indeed have thought by means of them,
but by such thinking we have not, in fact, cognized anything, we have
merely played with representation. To give an object, if this
expression be understood in the sense of “to present” the object, not
mediately but immediately in intuition, means nothing else than to
apply the representation of it to experience, be that experience real
or only possible. Space and time themselves, pure as these conceptions
are from all that is empirical, and certain as it is that they are
represented fully à priori in the mind, would be completely without
objective validity, and without sense and significance, if their
necessary use in the objects of experience were not shown. Nay, the
representation of them is a mere schema, that always relates to the
reproductive imagination, which calls up the objects of experience,
without which they have no meaning. And so it is with all conceptions
without distinction.
The possibility of experience is, then, that which gives objective
reality to all our à priori cognitions. Now experience depends upon the
synthetical unity of phenomena, that is, upon a synthesis according to
conceptions of the object of phenomena in general, a synthesis without
which experience never could become knowledge, but would be merely a
rhapsody of perceptions, never fitting together into any connected
text, according to rules of a thoroughly united (possible)
consciousness, and therefore never subjected to the transcendental and
necessary unity of apperception. Experience has therefore for a
foundation, à priori principles of its form, that is to say, general
rules of unity in the synthesis of phenomena, the objective reality of
which rules, as necessary conditions even of the possibility of
experience can which rules, as necessary conditions—even of the
possibility of experience—can always be shown in experience. But apart
from this relation, à priori synthetical propositions are absolutely
impossible, because they have no third term, that is, no pure object,
in which the synthetical unity can exhibit the objective reality of its
conceptions.
Although, then, respecting space, or the forms which productive
imagination describes therein, we do cognize much à priori in
synthetical judgements, and are really in no need of experience for
this purpose, such knowledge would nevertheless amount to nothing but a
busy trifling with a mere chimera, were not space to be considered as
the condition of the phenomena which constitute the material of
external experience. Hence those pure synthetical judgements do relate,
though but mediately, to possible experience, or rather to the
possibility of experience, and upon that alone is founded the objective
validity of their synthesis.
While then, on the one hand, experience, as empirical synthesis, is the
only possible mode of cognition which gives reality to all other
synthesis; on the other hand, this latter synthesis, as cognition à
priori, possesses truth, that is, accordance with its object, only in
so far as it contains nothing more than what is necessary to the
synthetical unity of experience.
Accordingly, the supreme principle of all synthetical judgements is:
“Every object is subject to the necessary conditions of the synthetical
unity of the manifold of intuition in a possible experience.”
À priori synthetical judgements are possible when we apply the formal
conditions of the à priori intuition, the synthesis of the imagination,
and the necessary unity of that synthesis in a transcendental
apperception, to a possible cognition of experience, and say: “The
conditions of the possibility of experience in general are at the same
time conditions of the possibility of the objects of experience, and
have, for that reason, objective validity in an à priori synthetical
judgement.”
Section III. Systematic Representation of all Synthetical Principles of
the Pure Understanding
That principles exist at all is to be ascribed solely to the pure
understanding, which is not only the faculty of rules in regard to that
which happens, but is even the source of principles according to which
everything that can be presented to us as an object is necessarily
subject to rules, because without such rules we never could attain to
cognition of an object. Even the laws of nature, if they are
contemplated as principles of the empirical use of the understanding,
possess also a characteristic of necessity, and we may therefore at
least expect them to be determined upon grounds which are valid à
priori and antecedent to all experience. But all laws of nature,
without distinction, are subject to higher principles of the
understanding, inasmuch as the former are merely applications of the
latter to particular cases of experience. These higher principles alone
therefore give the conception, which contains the necessary condition,
and, as it were, the exponent of a rule; experience, on the other hand,
gives the case which comes under the rule.
There is no danger of our mistaking merely empirical principles for
principles of the pure understanding, or conversely; for the character
of necessity, according to conceptions which distinguish the latter,
and the absence of this in every empirical proposition, how extensively
valid soever it may be, is a perfect safeguard against confounding
them. There are, however, pure principles à priori, which nevertheless
I should not ascribe to the pure understanding—for this reason, that
they are not derived from pure conceptions, but (although by the
mediation of the understanding) from pure intuitions. But understanding
is the faculty of conceptions. Such principles mathematical science
possesses, but their application to experience, consequently their
objective validity, nay the possibility of such à priori synthetical
cognitions (the deduction thereof) rests entirely upon the pure
understanding.
On this account, I shall not reckon among my principles those of
mathematics; though I shall include those upon the possibility and
objective validity à priori, of principles of the mathematical science,
which, consequently, are to be looked upon as the principle of these,
and which proceed from conceptions to intuition, and not from intuition
to conceptions.
In the application of the pure conceptions of the understanding to
possible experience, the employment of their synthesis is either
mathematical or dynamical, for it is directed partly on the intuition
alone, partly on the existence of a phenomenon. But the à priori
conditions of intuition are in relation to a possible experience
absolutely necessary, those of the existence of objects of a possible
empirical intuition are in themselves contingent. Hence the principles
of the mathematical use of the categories will possess a character of
absolute necessity, that is, will be apodeictic; those, on the other
hand, of the dynamical use, the character of an à priori necessity
indeed, but only under the condition of empirical thought in an
experience, therefore only mediately and indirectly. Consequently they
will not possess that immediate evidence which is peculiar to the
former, although their application to experience does not, for that
reason, lose its truth and certitude. But of this point we shall be
better able to judge at the conclusion of this system of principles.
The table of the categories is naturally our guide to the table of
principles, because these are nothing else than rules for the objective
employment of the former. Accordingly, all principles of the pure
understanding are:
1
Axioms
of Intuition
2 3
Anticipations Analogies
of Perception of Experience
4
Postulates of
Empirical Thought
in general
These appellations I have chosen advisedly, in order that we might not
lose sight of the distinctions in respect of the evidence and the
employment of these principles. It will, however, soon appear that—a
fact which concerns both the evidence of these principles, and the à
priori determination of phenomena—according to the categories of
quantity and quality (if we attend merely to the form of these), the
principles of these categories are distinguishable from those of the
two others, in as much as the former are possessed of an intuitive, but
the latter of a merely discursive, though in both instances a complete,
certitude. I shall therefore call the former mathematical, and the
latter dynamical principles.[27] It must be observed, however, that by
these terms I mean just as little in the one case the principles of
mathematics as those of general (physical) dynamics in the other. I
have here in view merely the principles of the pure understanding, in
their application to the internal sense (without distinction of the
representations given therein), by means of which the sciences of
mathematics and dynamics become possible. Accordingly, I have named
these principles rather with reference to their application than their
content; and I shall now proceed to consider them in the order in which
they stand in the table.
[27] All combination (conjunctio) is either composition (compositio)
or connection (nexus). The former is the synthesis of a manifold, the
parts of which do not necessarily belong to each other. For example,
the two triangles into which a square is divided by a diagonal, do not
necessarily belong to each other, and of this kind is the synthesis of
the homogeneous in everything that can be mathematically considered.
This synthesis can be divided into those of aggregation and coalition,
the former of which is applied to extensive, the latter to intensive
quantities. The second sort of combination (nexus) is the synthesis of
a manifold, in so far as its parts do belong necessarily to each
other; for example, the accident to a substance, or the effect to the
cause. Consequently it is a synthesis of that which though
heterogeneous, is represented as connected à priori. This
combination—not an arbitrary one—I entitle dynamical because it
concerns the connection of the existence of the manifold. This, again,
may be divided into the physical synthesis, of the phenomena divided
among each other, and the metaphysical synthesis, or the connection of
phenomena à priori in the faculty of cognition.
1. AXIOMS OF INTUITION.
The principle of these is: All Intuitions are Extensive Quantities.
PROOF.
All phenomena contain, as regards their form, an intuition in space and
time, which lies à priori at the foundation of all without exception.
Phenomena, therefore, cannot be apprehended, that is, received into
empirical consciousness otherwise than through the synthesis of a
manifold, through which the representations of a determinate space or
time are generated; that is to say, through the composition of the
homogeneous and the consciousness of the synthetical unity of this
manifold (homogeneous). Now the consciousness of a homogeneous manifold
in intuition, in so far as thereby the representation of an object is
rendered possible, is the conception of a quantity (quanti).
Consequently, even the perception of an object as phenomenon is
possible only through the same synthetical unity of the manifold of the
given sensuous intuition, through which the unity of the composition of
the homogeneous manifold in the conception of a quantity is cogitated;
that is to say, all phenomena are quantities, and extensive quantities,
because as intuitions in space or time they must be represented by
means of the same synthesis through which space and time themselves are
determined.
An extensive quantity I call that wherein the representation of the
parts renders possible (and therefore necessarily antecedes) the
representation of the whole. I cannot represent to myself any line,
however small, without drawing it in thought, that is, without
generating from a point all its parts one after another, and in this
way alone producing this intuition. Precisely the same is the case with
every, even the smallest, portion of time. I cogitate therein only the
successive progress from one moment to another, and hence, by means of
the different portions of time and the addition of them, a determinate
quantity of time is produced. As the pure intuition in all phenomena is
either time or space, so is every phenomenon in its character of
intuition an extensive quantity, inasmuch as it can only be cognized in
our apprehension by successive synthesis (from part to part). All
phenomena are, accordingly, to be considered as aggregates, that is, as
a collection of previously given parts; which is not the case with
every sort of quantities, but only with those which are represented and
apprehended by us as extensive.
On this successive synthesis of the productive imagination, in the
generation of figures, is founded the mathematics of extension, or
geometry, with its axioms, which express the conditions of sensuous
intuition à priori, under which alone the schema of a pure conception
of external intuition can exist; for example, “be tween two points only
one straight line is possible,” “two straight lines cannot enclose a
space,” etc. These are the axioms which properly relate only to
quantities (quanta) as such.
But, as regards the quantity of a thing (quantitas), that is to say,
the answer to the question: “How large is this or that object?”
although, in respect to this question, we have various propositions
synthetical and immediately certain (indemonstrabilia); we have, in the
proper sense of the term, no axioms. For example, the propositions: “If
equals be added to equals, the wholes are equal”; “If equals be taken
from equals, the remainders are equal”; are analytical, because I am
immediately conscious of the identity of the production of the one
quantity with the production of the other; whereas axioms must be à
priori synthetical propositions. On the other hand, the self-evident
propositions as to the relation of numbers, are certainly synthetical
but not universal, like those of geometry, and for this reason cannot
be called axioms, but numerical formulae. That 7 + 5 = 12 is not an
analytical proposition. For neither in the representation of seven, nor
of five, nor of the composition of the two numbers, do I cogitate the
number twelve. (Whether I cogitate the number in the addition of both,
is not at present the question; for in the case of an analytical
proposition, the only point is whether I really cogitate the predicate
in the representation of the subject.) But although the proposition is
synthetical, it is nevertheless only a singular proposition. In so far
as regard is here had merely to the synthesis of the homogeneous (the
units), it cannot take place except in one manner, although our use of
these numbers is afterwards general. If I say: “A triangle can be
constructed with three lines, any two of which taken together are
greater than the third,” I exercise merely the pure function of the
productive imagination, which may draw the lines longer or shorter and
construct the angles at its pleasure. On the contrary, the number seven
is possible only in one manner, and so is likewise the number twelve,
which results from the synthesis of seven and five. Such propositions,
then, cannot be termed axioms (for in that case we should have an
infinity of these), but numerical formulae.
This transcendental principle of the mathematics of phenomena greatly
enlarges our à priori cognition. For it is by this principle alone that
pure mathematics is rendered applicable in all its precision to objects
of experience, and without it the validity of this application would
not be so self-evident; on the contrary, contradictions and confusions
have often arisen on this very point. Phenomena are not things in
themselves. Empirical intuition is possible only through pure intuition
(of space and time); consequently, what geometry affirms of the latter,
is indisputably valid of the former. All evasions, such as the
statement that objects of sense do not conform to the rules of
construction in space (for example, to the rule of the infinite
divisibility of lines or angles), must fall to the ground. For, if
these objections hold good, we deny to space, and with it to all
mathematics, objective validity, and no longer know wherefore, and how
far, mathematics can be applied to phenomena. The synthesis of spaces
and times as the essential form of all intuition, is that which renders
possible the apprehension of a phenomenon, and therefore every external
experience, consequently all cognition of the objects of experience;
and whatever mathematics in its pure use proves of the former, must
necessarily hold good of the latter. All objections are but the
chicaneries of an ill-instructed reason, which erroneously thinks to
liberate the objects of sense from the formal conditions of our
sensibility, and represents these, although mere phenomena, as things
in themselves, presented as such to our understanding. But in this
case, no à priori synthetical cognition of them could be possible,
consequently not through pure conceptions of space and the science
which determines these conceptions, that is to say, geometry, would
itself be impossible.
2. ANTICIPATIONS OF PERCEPTION.
The principle of these is: In all phenomena the Real, that which is an
object of sensation, has Intensive Quantity, that is, has a Degree.
PROOF.
Perception is empirical consciousness, that is to say, a consciousness
which contains an element of sensation. Phenomena as objects of
perception are not pure, that is, merely formal intuitions, like space
and time, for they cannot be perceived in themselves.[28] They contain,
then, over and above the intuition, the materials for an object
(through which is represented something existing in space or time),
that is to say, they contain the real of sensation, as a representation
merely subjective, which gives us merely the consciousness that the
subject is affected, and which we refer to some external object. Now, a
gradual transition from empirical consciousness to pure consciousness
is possible, inasmuch as the real in this consciousness entirely
vanishes, and there remains a merely formal consciousness (à priori) of
the manifold in time and space; consequently there is possible a
synthesis also of the production of the quantity of a sensation from
its commencement, that is, from the pure intuition = 0 onwards up to a
certain quantity of the sensation. Now as sensation in itself is not an
objective representation, and in it is to be found neither the
intuition of space nor of time, it cannot possess any extensive
quantity, and yet there does belong to it a quantity (and that by means
of its apprehension, in which empirical consciousness can within a
certain time rise from nothing = 0 up to its given amount),
consequently an intensive quantity. And thus we must ascribe intensive
quantity, that is, a degree of influence on sense to all objects of
perception, in so far as this perception contains sensation.
[28] They can be perceived only as phenomena, and some part of them
must always belong to the non-ego; whereas pure intuitions are
entirely the products of the mind itself, and as such are cognized _in
themselves.—Tr_
All cognition, by means of which I am enabled to cognize and determine
à priori what belongs to empirical cognition, may be called an
anticipation; and without doubt this is the sense in which Epicurus
employed his expression prholepsis. But as there is in phenomena
something which is never cognized à priori, which on this account
constitutes the proper difference between pure and empirical cognition,
that is to say, sensation (as the matter of perception), it follows,
that sensation is just that element in cognition which cannot be at all
anticipated. On the other hand, we might very well term the pure
determinations in space and time, as well in regard to figure as to
quantity, anticipations of phenomena, because they represent à priori
that which may always be given à posteriori in experience. But suppose
that in every sensation, as sensation in general, without any
particular sensation being thought of, there existed something which
could be cognized à priori, this would deserve to be called
anticipation in a special sense—special, because it may seem surprising
to forestall experience, in that which concerns the matter of
experience, and which we can only derive from itself. Yet such really
is the case here.
Apprehension[29], by means of sensation alone, fills only one moment,
that is, if I do not take into consideration a succession of many
sensations. As that in the phenomenon, the apprehension of which is not
a successive synthesis advancing from parts to an entire
representation, sensation has therefore no extensive quantity; the want
of sensation in a moment of time would represent it as empty,
consequently = 0. That which in the empirical intuition corresponds to
sensation is reality (realitas phaenomenon); that which corresponds to
the absence of it, negation = 0. Now every sensation is capable of a
diminution, so that it can decrease, and thus gradually disappear.
Therefore, between reality in a phenomenon and negation, there exists a
continuous concatenation of many possible intermediate sensations, the
difference of which from each other is always smaller than that between
the given sensation and zero, or complete negation. That is to say, the
real in a phenomenon has always a quantity, which however is not
discoverable in apprehension, inasmuch as apprehension take place by
means of mere sensation in one instant, and not by the successive
synthesis of many sensations, and therefore does not progress from
parts to the whole. Consequently, it has a quantity, but not an
extensive quantity.
[29] Apprehension is the Kantian word for preception, in the largest
sense in which we employ that term. It is the genus which includes
under i, as species, perception proper and sensation proper—Tr
Now that quantity which is apprehended only as unity, and in which
plurality can be represented only by approximation to negation = 0, I
term intensive quantity. Consequently, reality in a phenomenon has
intensive quantity, that is, a degree. If we consider this reality as
cause (be it of sensation or of another reality in the phenomenon, for
example, a change), we call the degree of reality in its character of
cause a momentum, for example, the momentum of weight; and for this
reason, that the degree only indicates that quantity the apprehension
of which is not successive, but instantaneous. This, however, I touch
upon only in passing, for with causality I have at present nothing to
do.
Accordingly, every sensation, consequently every reality in phenomena,
however small it may be, has a degree, that is, an intensive quantity,
which may always be lessened, and between reality and negation there
exists a continuous connection of possible realities, and possible
smaller perceptions. Every colour—for example, red—has a degree, which,
be it ever so small, is never the smallest, and so is it always with
heat, the momentum of weight, etc.
This property of quantities, according to which no part of them is the
smallest possible (no part simple), is called their continuity. Space
and time are quanta continua, because no part of them can be given,
without enclosing it within boundaries (points and moments),
consequently, this given part is itself a space or a time. Space,
therefore, consists only of spaces, and time of times. Points and
moments are only boundaries, that is, the mere places or positions of
their limitation. But places always presuppose intuitions which are to
limit or determine them; and we cannot conceive either space or time
composed of constituent parts which are given before space or time.
Such quantities may also be called flowing, because synthesis (of the
productive imagination) in the production of these quantities is a
progression in time, the continuity of which we are accustomed to
indicate by the expression flowing.
All phenomena, then, are continuous quantities, in respect both to
intuition and mere perception (sensation, and with it reality). In the
former case they are extensive quantities; in the latter, intensive.
When the synthesis of the manifold of a phenomenon is interrupted,
there results merely an aggregate of several phenomena, and not
properly a phenomenon as a quantity, which is not produced by the mere
continuation of the productive synthesis of a certain kind, but by the
repetition of a synthesis always ceasing. For example, if I call
thirteen dollars a sum or quantity of money, I employ the term quite
correctly, inasmuch as I understand by thirteen dollars the value of a
mark in standard silver, which is, to be sure, a continuous quantity,
in which no part is the smallest, but every part might constitute a
piece of money, which would contain material for still smaller pieces.
If, however, by the words thirteen dollars I understand so many coins
(be their value in silver what it may), it would be quite erroneous to
use the expression a quantity of dollars; on the contrary, I must call
them aggregate, that is, a number of coins. And as in every number we
must have unity as the foundation, so a phenomenon taken as unity is a
quantity, and as such always a continuous quantity (quantum continuum).
Now, seeing all phenomena, whether considered as extensive or
intensive, are continuous quantities, the proposition: “All change
(transition of a thing from one state into another) is continuous,”
might be proved here easily, and with mathematical evidence, were it
not that the causality of a change lies, entirely beyond the bounds of
a transcendental philosophy, and presupposes empirical principles. For
of the possibility of a cause which changes the condition of things,
that is, which determines them to the contrary to a certain given
state, the understanding gives us à priori no knowledge; not merely
because it has no insight into the possibility of it (for such insight
is absent in several à priori cognitions), but because the notion of
change concerns only certain determinations of phenomena, which
experience alone can acquaint us with, while their cause lies in the
unchangeable. But seeing that we have nothing which we could here
employ but the pure fundamental conceptions of all possible experience,
among which of course nothing empirical can be admitted, we dare not,
without injuring the unity of our system, anticipate general physical
science, which is built upon certain fundamental experiences.
Nevertheless, we are in no want of proofs of the great influence which
the principle above developed exercises in the anticipation of
perceptions, and even in supplying the want of them, so far as to
shield us against the false conclusions which otherwise we might rashly
draw.
If all reality in perception has a degree, between which and negation
there is an endless sequence of ever smaller degrees, and if,
nevertheless, every sense must have a determinate degree of receptivity
for sensations; no perception, and consequently no experience is
possible, which can prove, either immediately or mediately, an entire
absence of all reality in a phenomenon; in other words, it is
impossible ever to draw from experience a proof of the existence of
empty space or of empty time. For in the first place, an entire absence
of reality in a sensuous intuition cannot of course be an object of
perception; secondly, such absence cannot be deduced from the
contemplation of any single phenomenon, and the difference of the
degrees in its reality; nor ought it ever to be admitted in explanation
of any phenomenon. For if even the complete intuition of a determinate
space or time is thoroughly real, that is, if no part thereof is empty,
yet because every reality has its degree, which, with the extensive
quantity of the phenomenon unchanged, can diminish through endless
gradations down to nothing (the void), there must be infinitely
graduated degrees, with which space or time is filled, and the
intensive quantity in different phenomena may be smaller or greater,
although the extensive quantity of the intuition remains equal and
unaltered.
We shall give an example of this. Almost all natural philosophers,
remarking a great difference in the quantity of the matter of different
kinds in bodies with the same volume (partly on account of the momentum
of gravity or weight, partly on account of the momentum of resistance
to other bodies in motion), conclude unanimously that this volume
(extensive quantity of the phenomenon) must be void in all bodies,
although in different proportion. But who would suspect that these for
the most part mathematical and mechanical inquirers into nature should
ground this conclusion solely on a metaphysical hypothesis—a sort of
hypothesis which they profess to disparage and avoid? Yet this they do,
in assuming that the real in space (I must not here call it
impenetrability or weight, because these are empirical conceptions) is
always identical, and can only be distinguished according to its
extensive quantity, that is, multiplicity. Now to this presupposition,
for which they can have no ground in experience, and which consequently
is merely metaphysical, I oppose a transcendental demonstration, which
it is true will not explain the difference in the filling up of spaces,
but which nevertheless completely does away with the supposed necessity
of the above-mentioned presupposition that we cannot explain the said
difference otherwise than by the hypothesis of empty spaces. This
demonstration, moreover, has the merit of setting the understanding at
liberty to conceive this distinction in a different manner, if the
explanation of the fact requires any such hypothesis. For we perceive
that although two equal spaces may be completely filled by matters
altogether different, so that in neither of them is there left a single
point wherein matter is not present, nevertheless, every reality has
its degree (of resistance or of weight), which, without diminution of
the extensive quantity, can become less and less ad infinitum, before
it passes into nothingness and disappears. Thus an expansion which
fills a space—for example, caloric, or any other reality in the
phenomenal world—can decrease in its degrees to infinity, yet without
leaving the smallest part of the space empty; on the contrary, filling
it with those lesser degrees as completely as another phenomenon could
with greater. My intention here is by no means to maintain that this is
really the case with the difference of matters, in regard to their
specific gravity; I wish only to prove, from a principle of the pure
understanding, that the nature of our perceptions makes such a mode of
explanation possible, and that it is erroneous to regard the real in a
phenomenon as equal quoad its degree, and different only quoad its
aggregation and extensive quantity, and this, too, on the pretended
authority of an à priori principle of the understanding.
Nevertheless, this principle of the anticipation of perception must
somewhat startle an inquirer whom initiation into transcendental
philosophy has rendered cautious. We must naturally entertain some
doubt whether or not the understanding can enounce any such synthetical
proposition as that respecting the degree of all reality in phenomena,
and consequently the possibility of the internal difference of
sensation itself—abstraction being made of its empirical quality. Thus
it is a question not unworthy of solution: “How the understanding can
pronounce synthetically and à priori respecting phenomena, and thus
anticipate these, even in that which is peculiarly and merely
empirical, that, namely, which concerns sensation itself?”
The quality of sensation is in all cases merely empirical, and cannot
be represented à priori (for example, colours, taste, etc.). But the
real—that which corresponds to sensation—in opposition to negation = 0,
only represents something the conception of which in itself contains a
being (ein seyn), and signifies nothing but the synthesis in an
empirical consciousness. That is to say, the empirical consciousness in
the internal sense can be raised from 0 to every higher degree, so that
the very same extensive quantity of intuition, an illuminated surface,
for example, excites as great a sensation as an aggregate of many other
surfaces less illuminated. We can therefore make complete abstraction
of the extensive quantity of a phenomenon, and represent to ourselves
in the mere sensation in a certain momentum, a synthesis of homogeneous
ascension from 0 up to the given empirical consciousness, All
sensations therefore as such are given only à posteriori, but this
property thereof, namely, that they have a degree, can be known à
priori. It is worthy of remark, that in respect to quantities in
general, we can cognize à priori only a single quality, namely,
continuity; but in respect to all quality (the real in phenomena), we
cannot cognize à priori anything more than the intensive quantity
thereof, namely, that they have a degree. All else is left to
experience.
3. ANALOGIES OF EXPERIENCE.
The principle of these is: Experience is possible only through the
representation of a necessary connection of Perceptions.
PROOF.
Experience is an empirical cognition; that is to say, a cognition which
determines an object by means of perceptions. It is therefore a
synthesis of perceptions, a synthesis which is not itself contained in
perception, but which contains the synthetical unity of the manifold of
perception in a consciousness; and this unity constitutes the essential
of our cognition of objects of the senses, that is, of experience (not
merely of intuition or sensation). Now in experience our perceptions
come together contingently, so that no character of necessity in their
connection appears, or can appear from the perceptions themselves,
because apprehension is only a placing together of the manifold of
empirical intuition, and no representation of a necessity in the
connected existence of the phenomena which apprehension brings
together, is to be discovered therein. But as experience is a cognition
of objects by means of perceptions, it follows that the relation of the
existence of the existence of the manifold must be represented in
experience not as it is put together in time, but as it is objectively
in time. And as time itself cannot be perceived, the determination of
the existence of objects in time can only take place by means of their
connection in time in general, consequently only by means of à priori
connecting conceptions. Now as these conceptions always possess the
character of necessity, experience is possible only by means of a
representation of the necessary connection of perception.
The three modi of time are permanence, succession, and coexistence.
Accordingly, there are three rules of all relations of time in
phenomena, according to which the existence of every phenomenon is
determined in respect of the unity of all time, and these antecede all
experience and render it possible.
The general principle of all three analogies rests on the necessary
unity of apperception in relation to all possible empirical
consciousness (perception) at every time, consequently, as this unity
lies à priori at the foundation of all mental operations, the principle
rests on the synthetical unity of all phenomena according to their
relation in time. For the original apperception relates to our internal
sense (the complex of all representations), and indeed relates à priori
to its form, that is to say, the relation of the manifold empirical
consciousness in time. Now this manifold must be combined in original
apperception according to relations of time—a necessity imposed by the
à priori transcendental unity of apperception, to which is subjected
all that can belong to my (i.e., my own) cognition, and therefore all
that can become an object for me. This synthetical and à priori
determined unity in relation of perceptions in time is therefore the
rule: “All empirical determinations of time must be subject to rules of
the general determination of time”; and the analogies of experience, of
which we are now about to treat, must be rules of this nature.
These principles have this peculiarity, that they do not concern
phenomena, and the synthesis of the empirical intuition thereof, but
merely the existence of phenomena and their relation to each other in
regard to this existence. Now the mode in which we apprehend a thing in
a phenomenon can be determined à priori in such a manner that the rule
of its synthesis can give, that is to say, can produce this à priori
intuition in every empirical example. But the existence of phenomena
cannot be known à priori, and although we could arrive by this path at
a conclusion of the fact of some existence, we could not cognize that
existence determinately, that is to say, we should be incapable of
anticipating in what respect the empirical intuition of it would be
distinguishable from that of others.
The two principles above mentioned, which I called mathematical, in
consideration of the fact of their authorizing the application of
mathematic phenomena, relate to these phenomena only in regard to their
possibility, and instruct us how phenomena, as far as regards their
intuition or the real in their perception, can be generated according
to the rules of a mathematical synthesis. Consequently, numerical
quantities, and with them the determination of a phenomenon as a
quantity, can be employed in the one case as well as in the other.
Thus, for example, out of 200,000 illuminations by the moon, I might
compose and give à priori, that is construct, the degree of our
sensations of the sun-light.[30] We may therefore entitle these two
principles constitutive.
[30] Kant’s meaning is: The two principles enunciated under the heads
of “Axioms of Intuition,” and “Anticipations of Perception,” authorize
the application to phenomena of determinations of size and number,
that is of mathematic. For example, I may compute the light of the
sun, and say that its quantity is a certain number of times greater
than that of the moon. In the same way, heat is measured by the
comparison of its different effects on water, &c., and on mercury in a
thermometer.—Tr
The case is very different with those principles whose province it is
to subject the existence of phenomena to rules à priori. For as
existence does not admit of being constructed, it is clear that they
must only concern the relations of existence and be merely regulative
principles. In this case, therefore, neither axioms nor anticipations
are to be thought of. Thus, if a perception is given us, in a certain
relation of time to other (although undetermined) perceptions, we
cannot then say à priori, what and how great (in quantity) the other
perception necessarily connected with the former is, but only how it is
connected, quoad its existence, in this given modus of time. Analogies
in philosophy mean something very different from that which they
represent in mathematics. In the latter they are formulae, which
enounce the equality of two relations of quantity, and are always
constitutive, so that if two terms of the proportion are given, the
third is also given, that is, can be constructed by the aid of these
formulae. But in philosophy, analogy is not the equality of two
quantitative but of two qualitative relations. In this case, from three
given terms, I can give à priori and cognize the relation to a fourth
member, but not this fourth term itself, although I certainly possess a
rule to guide me in the search for this fourth term in experience, and
a mark to assist me in discovering it. An analogy of experience is
therefore only a rule according to which unity of experience must arise
out of perceptions in respect to objects (phenomena) not as a
constitutive, but merely as a regulative principle. The same holds good
also of the postulates of empirical thought in general, which relate to
the synthesis of mere intuition (which concerns the form of phenomena),
the synthesis of perception (which concerns the matter of phenomena),
and the synthesis of experience (which concerns the relation of these
perceptions). For they are only regulative principles, and clearly
distinguishable from the mathematical, which are constitutive, not
indeed in regard to the certainty which both possess à priori, but in
the mode of evidence thereof, consequently also in the manner of
demonstration.
But what has been observed of all synthetical propositions, and must be
particularly remarked in this place, is this, that these analogies
possess significance and validity, not as principles of the
transcendental, but only as principles of the empirical use of the
understanding, and their truth can therefore be proved only as such,
and that consequently the phenomena must not be subjoined directly
under the categories, but only under their schemata. For if the objects
to which those principles must be applied were things in themselves, it
would be quite impossible to cognize aught concerning them
synthetically à priori. But they are nothing but phenomena; a complete
knowledge of which—a knowledge to which all principles à priori must at
last relate—is the only possible experience. It follows that these
principles can have nothing else for their aim than the conditions of
the empirical cognition in the unity of synthesis of phenomena. But
this synthesis is cogitated only in the schema of the pure conception
of the understanding, of whose unity, as that of a synthesis in
general, the category contains the function unrestricted by any
sensuous condition. These principles will therefore authorize us to
connect phenomena according to an analogy, with the logical and
universal unity of conceptions, and consequently to employ the
categories in the principles themselves; but in the application of them
to experience, we shall use only their schemata, as the key to their
proper application, instead of the categories, or rather the latter as
restricting conditions, under the title of “formulae” of the former.
A. FIRST ANALOGY.
Principle of the Permanence of Substance.
In all changes of phenomena, substance is permanent, and the quantum
thereof in nature is neither increased nor diminished.
PROOF.
All phenomena exist in time, wherein alone as substratum, that is, as
the permanent form of the internal intuition, coexistence and
succession can be represented. Consequently time, in which all changes
of phenomena must be cogitated, remains and changes not, because it is
that in which succession and coexistence can be represented only as
determinations thereof. Now, time in itself cannot be an object of
perception. It follows that in objects of perception, that is, in
phenomena, there must be found a substratum which represents time in
general, and in which all change or coexistence can be perceived by
means of the relation of phenomena to it. But the substratum of all
reality, that is, of all that pertains to the existence of things, is
substance; all that pertains to existence can be cogitated only as a
determination of substance. Consequently, the permanent, in relation to
which alone can all relations of time in phenomena be determined, is
substance in the world of phenomena, that is, the real in phenomena,
that which, as the substratum of all change, remains ever the same.
Accordingly, as this cannot change in existence, its quantity in nature
can neither be increased nor diminished.
Our apprehension of the manifold in a phenomenon is always successive,
is Consequently always changing. By it alone we could, therefore, never
determine whether this manifold, as an object of experience, is
coexistent or successive, unless it had for a foundation something
fixed and permanent, of the existence of which all succession and
coexistence are nothing but so many modes (modi of time). Only in the
permanent, then, are relations of time possible (for simultaneity and
succession are the only relations in time); that is to say, the
permanent is the substratum of our empirical representation of time
itself, in which alone all determination of time is possible.
Permanence is, in fact, just another expression for time, as the
abiding correlate of all existence of phenomena, and of all change, and
of all coexistence. For change does not affect time itself, but only
the phenomena in time (just as coexistence cannot be regarded as a
modus of time itself, seeing that in time no parts are coexistent, but
all successive). If we were to attribute succession to time itself, we
should be obliged to cogitate another time, in which this succession
would be possible. It is only by means of the permanent that existence
in different parts of the successive series of time receives a
quantity, which we entitle duration. For in mere succession, existence
is perpetually vanishing and recommencing, and therefore never has even
the least quantity. Without the permanent, then, no relation in time is
possible. Now, time in itself is not an object of perception;
consequently the permanent in phenomena must be regarded as the
substratum of all determination of time, and consequently also as the
condition of the possibility of all synthetical unity of perceptions,
that is, of experience; and all existence and all change in time can
only be regarded as a mode in the existence of that which abides
unchangeably. Therefore, in all phenomena, the permanent is the object
in itself, that is, the substance (phenomenon); but all that changes or
can change belongs only to the mode of the existence of this substance
or substances, consequently to its determinations.
I find that in all ages not only the philosopher, but even the common
understanding, has preposited this permanence as a substratum of all
change in phenomena; indeed, I am compelled to believe that they will
always accept this as an indubitable fact. Only the philosopher
expresses himself in a more precise and definite manner, when he says:
“In all changes in the world, the substance remains, and the accidents
alone are changeable.” But of this decidedly synthetical proposition, I
nowhere meet with even an attempt at proof; nay, it very rarely has the
good fortune to stand, as it deserves to do, at the head of the pure
and entirely à priori laws of nature. In truth, the statement that
substance is permanent, is tautological. For this very permanence is
the ground on which we apply the category of substance to the
phenomenon; and we should have been obliged to prove that in all
phenomena there is something permanent, of the existence of which the
changeable is nothing but a determination. But because a proof of this
nature cannot be dogmatical, that is, cannot be drawn from conceptions,
inasmuch as it concerns a synthetical proposition à priori, and as
philosophers never reflected that such propositions are valid only in
relation to possible experience, and therefore cannot be proved except
by means of a deduction of the possibility of experience, it is no
wonder that while it has served as the foundation of all experience
(for we feel the need of it in empirical cognition), it has never been
supported by proof.
A philosopher was asked: “What is the weight of smoke?” He answered:
“Subtract from the weight of the burnt wood the weight of the remaining
ashes, and you will have the weight of the smoke.” Thus he presumed it
to be incontrovertible that even in fire the matter (substance) does
not perish, but that only the form of it undergoes a change. In like
manner was the saying: “From nothing comes nothing,” only another
inference from the principle or permanence, or rather of the
ever-abiding existence of the true subject in phenomena. For if that in
the phenomenon which we call substance is to be the proper substratum
of all determination of time, it follows that all existence in past as
well as in future time, must be determinable by means of it alone.
Hence we are entitled to apply the term substance to a phenomenon, only
because we suppose its existence in all time, a notion which the word
permanence does not fully express, as it seems rather to be referable
to future time. However, the internal necessity perpetually to be, is
inseparably connected with the necessity always to have been, and so
the expression may stand as it is. “Gigni de nihilo nihil; in nihilum
nil posse reverti,”[31] are two propositions which the ancients never
parted, and which people nowadays sometimes mistakenly disjoin, because
they imagine that the propositions apply to objects as things in
themselves, and that the former might be inimical to the dependence
(even in respect of its substance also) of the world upon a supreme
cause. But this apprehension is entirely needless, for the question in
this case is only of phenomena in the sphere of experience, the unity
of which never could be possible, if we admitted the possibility that
new things (in respect of their substance) should arise. For in that
case, we should lose altogether that which alone can represent the
unity of time, to wit, the identity of the substratum, as that through
which alone all change possesses complete and thorough unity. This
permanence is, however, nothing but the manner in which we represent to
ourselves the existence of things in the phenomenal world.
[31] Persius, Satirae, iii.83-84.
The determinations of a substance, which are only particular modes of
its existence, are called accidents. They are always real, because they
concern the existence of substance (negations are only determinations,
which express the non-existence of something in the substance). Now, if
to this real in the substance we ascribe a particular existence (for
example, to motion as an accident of matter), this existence is called
inherence, in contradistinction to the existence of substance, which we
call subsistence. But hence arise many misconceptions, and it would be
a more accurate and just mode of expression to designate the accident
only as the mode in which the existence of a substance is positively
determined. Meanwhile, by reason of the conditions of the logical
exercise of our understanding, it is impossible to avoid separating, as
it were, that which in the existence of a substance is subject to
change, whilst the substance remains, and regarding it in relation to
that which is properly permanent and radical. On this account, this
category of substance stands under the title of relation, rather
because it is the condition thereof than because it contains in itself
any relation.
Now, upon this notion of permanence rests the proper notion of the
conception change. Origin and extinction are not changes of that which
originates or becomes extinct. Change is but a mode of existence, which
follows on another mode of existence of the same object; hence all that
changes is permanent, and only the condition thereof changes. Now since
this mutation affects only determinations, which can have a beginning
or an end, we may say, employing an expression which seems somewhat
paradoxical: “Only the permanent (substance) is subject to change; the
mutable suffers no change, but rather alternation, that is, when
certain determinations cease, others begin.”
Change, when, cannot be perceived by us except in substances, and
origin or extinction in an absolute sense, that does not concern merely
a determination of the permanent, cannot be a possible perception, for
it is this very notion of the permanent which renders possible the
representation of a transition from one state into another, and from
non-being to being, which, consequently, can be empirically cognized
only as alternating determinations of that which is permanent. Grant
that a thing absolutely begins to be; we must then have a point of time
in which it was not. But how and by what can we fix and determine this
point of time, unless by that which already exists? For a void
time—preceding—is not an object of perception; but if we connect this
beginning with objects which existed previously, and which continue to
exist till the object in question in question begins to be, then the
latter can only be a determination of the former as the permanent. The
same holds good of the notion of extinction, for this presupposes the
empirical representation of a time, in which a phenomenon no longer
exists.
Substances (in the world of phenomena) are the substratum of all
determinations of time. The beginning of some, and the ceasing to be of
other substances, would utterly do away with the only condition of the
empirical unity of time; and in that case phenomena would relate to two
different times, in which, side by side, existence would pass; which is
absurd. For there is only one time in which all different times must be
placed, not as coexistent, but as successive.
Accordingly, permanence is a necessary condition under which alone
phenomena, as things or objects, are determinable in a possible
experience. But as regards the empirical criterion of this necessary
permanence, and with it of the substantiality of phenomena, we shall
find sufficient opportunity to speak in the sequel.
B. SECOND ANALOGY.
Principle of the Succession of Time According to the Law of Causality.
All changes take place according to the law of the connection of Cause
and Effect.
PROOF.
(That all phenomena in the succession of time are only changes, that
is, a successive being and non-being of the determinations of
substance, which is permanent; consequently that a being of substance
itself which follows on the non-being thereof, or a non-being of
substance which follows on the being thereof, in other words, that the
origin or extinction of substance itself, is impossible—all this has
been fully established in treating of the foregoing principle. This
principle might have been expressed as follows: “All alteration
(succession) of phenomena is merely change”; for the changes of
substance are not origin or extinction, because the conception of
change presupposes the same subject as existing with two opposite
determinations, and consequently as permanent. After this premonition,
we shall proceed to the proof.)
I perceive that phenomena succeed one another, that is to say, a state
of things exists at one time, the opposite of which existed in a former
state. In this case, then, I really connect together two perceptions in
time. Now connection is not an operation of mere sense and intuition,
but is the product of a synthetical faculty of imagination, which
determines the internal sense in respect of a relation of time. But
imagination can connect these two states in two ways, so that either
the one or the other may antecede in time; for time in itself cannot be
an object of perception, and what in an object precedes and what
follows cannot be empirically determined in relation to it. I am only
conscious, then, that my imagination places one state before and the
other after; not that the one state antecedes the other in the object.
In other words, the objective relation of the successive phenomena
remains quite undetermined by means of mere perception. Now in order
that this relation may be cognized as determined, the relation between
the two states must be so cogitated that it is thereby determined as
necessary, which of them must be placed before and which after, and not
conversely. But the conception which carries with it a necessity of
synthetical unity, can be none other than a pure conception of the
understanding which does not lie in mere perception; and in this case
it is the conception of “the relation of cause and effect,” the former
of which determines the latter in time, as its necessary consequence,
and not as something which might possibly antecede (or which might in
some cases not be perceived to follow). It follows that it is only
because we subject the sequence of phenomena, and consequently all
change, to the law of causality, that experience itself, that is,
empirical cognition of phenomena, becomes possible; and consequently,
that phenomena themselves, as objects of experience, are possible only
by virtue of this law.
Our apprehension of the manifold of phenomena is always successive. The
representations of parts succeed one another. Whether they succeed one
another in the object also, is a second point for reflection, which was
not contained in the former. Now we may certainly give the name of
object to everything, even to every representation, so far as we are
conscious thereof; but what this word may mean in the case of
phenomena, not merely in so far as they (as representations) are
objects, but only in so far as they indicate an object, is a question
requiring deeper consideration. In so far as they, regarded merely as
representations, are at the same time objects of consciousness, they
are not to be distinguished from apprehension, that is, reception into
the synthesis of imagination, and we must therefore say: “The manifold
of phenomena is always produced successively in the mind.” If phenomena
were things in themselves, no man would be able to conjecture from the
succession of our representations how this manifold is connected in the
object; for we have to do only with our representations. How things may
be in themselves, without regard to the representations through which
they affect us, is utterly beyond the sphere of our cognition. Now
although phenomena are not things in themselves, and are nevertheless
the only thing given to us to be cognized, it is my duty to show what
sort of connection in time belongs to the manifold in phenomena
themselves, while the representation of this manifold in apprehension
is always successive. For example, the apprehension of the manifold in
the phenomenon of a house which stands before me, is successive. Now
comes the question whether the manifold of this house is in itself
successive—which no one will be at all willing to grant. But, so soon
as I raise my conception of an object to the transcendental
signification thereof, I find that the house is not a thing in itself,
but only a phenomenon, that is, a representation, the transcendental
object of which remains utterly unknown. What then am I to understand
by the question: “How can the manifold be connected in the phenomenon
itself—not considered as a thing in itself, but merely as a
phenomenon?” Here that which lies in my successive apprehension is
regarded as representation, whilst the phenomenon which is given me,
notwithstanding that it is nothing more than a complex of these
representations, is regarded as the object thereof, with which my
conception, drawn from the representations of apprehension, must
harmonize. It is very soon seen that, as accordance of the cognition
with its object constitutes truth, the question now before us can only
relate to the formal conditions of empirical truth; and that the
phenomenon, in opposition to the representations of apprehension, can
only be distinguished therefrom as the object of them, if it is subject
to a rule which distinguishes it from every other apprehension, and
which renders necessary a mode of connection of the manifold. That in
the phenomenon which contains the condition of this necessary rule of
apprehension, is the object.
Let us now proceed to our task. That something happens, that is to say,
that something or some state exists which before was not, cannot be
empirically perceived, unless a phenomenon precedes, which does not
contain in itself this state. For a reality which should follow upon a
void time, in other words, a beginning, which no state of things
precedes, can just as little be apprehended as the void time itself.
Every apprehension of an event is therefore a perception which follows
upon another perception. But as this is the case with all synthesis of
apprehension, as I have shown above in the example of a house, my
apprehension of an event is not yet sufficiently distinguished from
other apprehensions. But I remark also that if in a phenomenon which
contains an occurrence, I call the antecedent state of my perception,
A, and the following state, B, the perception B can only follow A in
apprehension, and the perception A cannot follow B, but only precede
it. For example, I see a ship float down the stream of a river. My
perception of its place lower down follows upon my perception of its
place higher up the course of the river, and it is impossible that, in
the apprehension of this phenomenon, the vessel should be perceived
first below and afterwards higher up the stream. Here, therefore, the
order in the sequence of perceptions in apprehension is determined; and
by this order apprehension is regulated. In the former example, my
perceptions in the apprehension of a house might begin at the roof and
end at the foundation, or vice versa; or I might apprehend the manifold
in this empirical intuition, by going from left to right, and from
right to left. Accordingly, in the series of these perceptions, there
was no determined order, which necessitated my beginning at a certain
point, in order empirically to connect the manifold. But this rule is
always to be met with in the perception of that which happens, and it
makes the order of the successive perceptions in the apprehension of
such a phenomenon necessary.
I must, therefore, in the present case, deduce the subjective sequence
of apprehension from the objective sequence of phenomena, for otherwise
the former is quite undetermined, and one phenomenon is not
distinguishable from another. The former alone proves nothing as to the
connection of the manifold in an object, for it is quite arbitrary. The
latter must consist in the order of the manifold in a phenomenon,
according to which order the apprehension of one thing (that which
happens) follows that of another thing (which precedes), in conformity
with a rule. In this way alone can I be authorized to say of the
phenomenon itself, and not merely of my own apprehension, that a
certain order or sequence is to be found therein. That is, in other
words, I cannot arrange my apprehension otherwise than in this order.
In conformity with this rule, then, it is necessary that in that which
antecedes an event there be found the condition of a rule, according to
which in this event follows always and necessarily; but I cannot
reverse this and go back from the event, and determine (by
apprehension) that which antecedes it. For no phenomenon goes back from
the succeeding point of time to the preceding point, although it does
certainly relate to a preceding point of time; from a given time, on
the other hand, there is always a necessary progression to the
determined succeeding time. Therefore, because there certainly is
something that follows, I must of necessity connect it with something
else, which antecedes, and upon which it follows, in conformity with a
rule, that is necessarily, so that the event, as conditioned, affords
certain indication of a condition, and this condition determines the
event.
Let us suppose that nothing precedes an event, upon which this event
must follow in conformity with a rule. All sequence of perception would
then exist only in apprehension, that is to say, would be merely
subjective, and it could not thereby be objectively determined what
thing ought to precede, and what ought to follow in perception. In such
a case, we should have nothing but a play of representations, which
would possess no application to any object. That is to say, it would
not be possible through perception to distinguish one phenomenon from
another, as regards relations of time; because the succession in the
act of apprehension would always be of the same sort, and therefore
there would be nothing in the phenomenon to determine the succession,
and to render a certain sequence objectively necessary. And, in this
case, I cannot say that two states in a phenomenon follow one upon the
other, but only that one apprehension follows upon another. But this is
merely subjective, and does not determine an object, and consequently
cannot be held to be cognition of an object—not even in the phenomenal
world.
Accordingly, when we know in experience that something happens, we
always presuppose that something precedes, whereupon it follows in
conformity with a rule. For otherwise I could not say of the object
that it follows; because the mere succession in my apprehension, if it
be not determined by a rule in relation to something preceding, does
not authorize succession in the object. Only, therefore, in reference
to a rule, according to which phenomena are determined in their
sequence, that is, as they happen, by the preceding state, can I make
my subjective synthesis (of apprehension) objective, and it is only
under this presupposition that even the experience of an event is
possible.
No doubt it appears as if this were in thorough contradiction to all
the notions which people have hitherto entertained in regard to the
procedure of the human understanding. According to these opinions, it
is by means of the perception and comparison of similar consequences
following upon certain antecedent phenomena that the understanding is
led to the discovery of a rule, according to which certain events
always follow certain phenomena, and it is only by this process that we
attain to the conception of cause. Upon such a basis, it is clear that
this conception must be merely empirical, and the rule which it
furnishes us with—“Everything that happens must have a cause”—would be
just as contingent as experience itself. The universality and necessity
of the rule or law would be perfectly spurious attributes of it.
Indeed, it could not possess universal validity, inasmuch as it would
not in this case be à priori, but founded on deduction. But the same is
the case with this law as with other pure à priori representations
(e.g., space and time), which we can draw in perfect clearness and
completeness from experience, only because we had already placed them
therein, and by that means, and by that alone, had rendered experience
possible. Indeed, the logical clearness of this representation of a
rule, determining the series of events, is possible only when we have
made use thereof in experience. Nevertheless, the recognition of this
rule, as a condition of the synthetical unity of phenomena in time, was
the ground of experience itself and consequently preceded it à priori.
It is now our duty to show by an example that we never, even in
experience, attribute to an object the notion of succession or effect
(of an event—that is, the happening of something that did not exist
before), and distinguish it from the subjective succession of
apprehension, unless when a rule lies at the foundation, which compels
us to observe this order of perception in preference to any other, and
that, indeed, it is this necessity which first renders possible the
representation of a succession in the object.
We have representations within us, of which also we can be conscious.
But, however widely extended, however accurate and thoroughgoing this
consciousness may be, these representations are still nothing more than
representations, that is, internal determinations of the mind in this
or that relation of time. Now how happens it that to these
representations we should set an object, or that, in addition to their
subjective reality, as modifications, we should still further attribute
to them a certain unknown objective reality? It is clear that objective
significancy cannot consist in a relation to another representation (of
that which we desire to term object), for in that case the question
again arises: “How does this other representation go out of itself, and
obtain objective significancy over and above the subjective, which is
proper to it, as a determination of a state of mind?” If we try to
discover what sort of new property the relation to an object gives to
our subjective representations, and what new importance they thereby
receive, we shall find that this relation has no other effect than that
of rendering necessary the connection of our representations in a
certain manner, and of subjecting them to a rule; and that conversely,
it is only because a certain order is necessary in the relations of
time of our representations, that objective significancy is ascribed to
them.
In the synthesis of phenomena, the manifold of our representations is
always successive. Now hereby is not represented an object, for by
means of this succession, which is common to all apprehension, no one
thing is distinguished from another. But so soon as I perceive or
assume that in this succession there is a relation to a state
antecedent, from which the representation follows in accordance with a
rule, so soon do I represent something as an event, or as a thing that
happens; in other words, I cognize an object to which I must assign a
certain determinate position in time, which cannot be altered, because
of the preceding state in the object. When, therefore, I perceive that
something happens, there is contained in this representation, in the
first place, the fact, that something antecedes; because, it is only in
relation to this that the phenomenon obtains its proper relation of
time, in other words, exists after an antecedent time, in which it did
not exist. But it can receive its determined place in time only by the
presupposition that something existed in the foregoing state, upon
which it follows inevitably and always, that is, in conformity with a
rule. From all this it is evident that, in the first place, I cannot
reverse the order of succession, and make that which happens precede
that upon which it follows; and that, in the second place, if the
antecedent state be posited, a certain determinate event inevitably and
necessarily follows. Hence it follows that there exists a certain order
in our representations, whereby the present gives a sure indication of
some previously existing state, as a correlate, though still
undetermined, of the existing event which is given—a correlate which
itself relates to the event as its consequence, conditions it, and
connects it necessarily with itself in the series of time.
If then it be admitted as a necessary law of sensibility, and
consequently a formal condition of all perception, that the preceding
necessarily determines the succeeding time (inasmuch as I cannot arrive
at the succeeding except through the preceding), it must likewise be an
indispensable law of empirical representation of the series of time
that the phenomena of the past determine all phenomena in the
succeeding time, and that the latter, as events, cannot take place,
except in so far as the former determine their existence in time, that
is to say, establish it according to a rule. For it is of course only
in phenomena that we can empirically cognize this continuity in the
connection of times.
For all experience and for the possibility of experience, understanding
is indispensable, and the first step which it takes in this sphere is
not to render the representation of objects clear, but to render the
representation of an object in general, possible. It does this by
applying the order of time to phenomena, and their existence. In other
words, it assigns to each phenomenon, as a consequence, a place in
relation to preceding phenomena, determined à priori in time, without
which it could not harmonize with time itself, which determines a place
à priori to all its parts. This determination of place cannot be
derived from the relation of phenomena to absolute time (for it is not
an object of perception); but, on the contrary, phenomena must
reciprocally determine the places in time of one another, and render
these necessary in the order of time. In other words, whatever follows
or happens, must follow in conformity with a universal rule upon that
which was contained in the foregoing state. Hence arises a series of
phenomena, which, by means of the understanding, produces and renders
necessary exactly the same order and continuous connection in the
series of our possible perceptions, as is found à priori in the form of
internal intuition (time), in which all our perceptions must have
place.
That something happens, then, is a perception which belongs to a
possible experience, which becomes real only because I look upon the
phenomenon as determined in regard to its place in time, consequently
as an object, which can always be found by means of a rule in the
connected series of my perceptions. But this rule of the determination
of a thing according to succession in time is as follows: “In what
precedes may be found the condition, under which an event always (that
is, necessarily) follows.” From all this it is obvious that the
principle of cause and effect is the principle of possible experience,
that is, of objective cognition of phenomena, in regard to their
relations in the succession of time.
The proof of this fundamental proposition rests entirely on the
following momenta of argument. To all empirical cognition belongs the
synthesis of the manifold by the imagination, a synthesis which is
always successive, that is, in which the representations therein always
follow one another. But the order of succession in imagination is not
determined, and the series of successive representations may be taken
retrogressively as well as progressively. But if this synthesis is a
synthesis of apprehension (of the manifold of a given phenomenon), then
the order is determined in the object, or to speak more accurately,
there is therein an order of successive synthesis which determines an
object, and according to which something necessarily precedes, and when
this is posited, something else necessarily follows. If, then, my
perception is to contain the cognition of an event, that is, of
something which really happens, it must be an empirical judgement,
wherein we think that the succession is determined; that is, it
presupposes another phenomenon, upon which this event follows
necessarily, or in conformity with a rule. If, on the contrary, when I
posited the antecedent, the event did not necessarily follow, I should
be obliged to consider it merely as a subjective play of my
imagination, and if in this I represented to myself anything as
objective, I must look upon it as a mere dream. Thus, the relation of
phenomena (as possible perceptions), according to which that which
happens is, as to its existence, necessarily determined in time by
something which antecedes, in conformity with a rule—in other words,
the relation of cause and effect—is the condition of the objective
validity of our empirical judgements in regard to the sequence of
perceptions, consequently of their empirical truth, and therefore of
experience. The principle of the relation of causality in the
succession of phenomena is therefore valid for all objects of
experience, because it is itself the ground of the possibility of
experience.
Here, however, a difficulty arises, which must be resolved. The
principle of the connection of causality among phenomena is limited in
our formula to the succession thereof, although in practice we find
that the principle applies also when the phenomena exist together in
the same time, and that cause and effect may be simultaneous. For
example, there is heat in a room, which does not exist in the open air.
I look about for the cause, and find it to be the fire, Now the fire as
the cause is simultaneous with its effect, the heat of the room. In
this case, then, there is no succession as regards time, between cause
and effect, but they are simultaneous; and still the law holds good.
The greater part of operating causes in nature are simultaneous with
their effects, and the succession in time of the latter is produced
only because the cause cannot achieve the total of its effect in one
moment. But at the moment when the effect first arises, it is always
simultaneous with the causality of its cause, because, if the cause had
but a moment before ceased to be, the effect could not have arisen.
Here it must be specially remembered that we must consider the order of
time and not the lapse thereof. The relation remains, even though no
time has elapsed. The time between the causality of the cause and its
immediate effect may entirely vanish, and the cause and effect be thus
simultaneous, but the relation of the one to the other remains always
determinable according to time. If, for example, I consider a leaden
ball, which lies upon a cushion and makes a hollow in it, as a cause,
then it is simultaneous with the effect. But I distinguish the two
through the relation of time of the dynamical connection of both. For
if I lay the ball upon the cushion, then the hollow follows upon the
before smooth surface; but supposing the cushion has, from some cause
or another, a hollow, there does not thereupon follow a leaden ball.
Thus, the law of succession of time is in all instances the only
empirical criterion of effect in relation to the causality of the
antecedent cause. The glass is the cause of the rising of the water
above its horizontal surface, although the two phenomena are
contemporaneous. For, as soon as I draw some water with the glass from
a larger vessel, an effect follows thereupon, namely, the change of the
horizontal state which the water had in the large vessel into a
concave, which it assumes in the glass.
This conception of causality leads us to the conception of action; that
of action, to the conception of force; and through it, to the
conception of substance. As I do not wish this critical essay, the sole
purpose of which is to treat of the sources of our synthetical
cognition à priori, to be crowded with analyses which merely explain,
but do not enlarge the sphere of our conceptions, I reserve the
detailed explanation of the above conceptions for a future system of
pure reason. Such an analysis, indeed, executed with great
particularity, may already be found in well-known works on this
subject. But I cannot at present refrain from making a few remarks on
the empirical criterion of a substance, in so far as it seems to be
more evident and more easily recognized through the conception of
action than through that of the permanence of a phenomenon.
Where action (consequently activity and force) exists, substance also
must exist, and in it alone must be sought the seat of that fruitful
source of phenomena. Very well. But if we are called upon to explain
what we mean by substance, and wish to avoid the vice of reasoning in a
circle, the answer is by no means so easy. How shall we conclude
immediately from the action to the permanence of that which acts, this
being nevertheless an essential and peculiar criterion of substance
(phenomenon)? But after what has been said above, the solution of this
question becomes easy enough, although by the common mode of
procedure—merely analysing our conceptions—it would be quite
impossible. The conception of action indicates the relation of the
subject of causality to the effect. Now because all effect consists in
that which happens, therefore in the changeable, the last subject
thereof is the permanent, as the substratum of all that changes, that
is, substance. For according to the principle of causality, actions are
always the first ground of all change in phenomena and, consequently,
cannot be a property of a subject which itself changes, because if this
were the case, other actions and another subject would be necessary to
determine this change. From all this it results that action alone, as
an empirical criterion, is a sufficient proof of the presence of
substantiality, without any necessity on my part of endeavouring to
discover the permanence of substance by a comparison. Besides, by this
mode of induction we could not attain to the completeness which the
magnitude and strict universality of the conception requires. For that
the primary subject of the causality of all arising and passing away,
all origin and extinction, cannot itself (in the sphere of phenomena)
arise and pass away, is a sound and safe conclusion, a conclusion which
leads us to the conception of empirical necessity and permanence in
existence, and consequently to the conception of a substance as
phenomenon.
When something happens, the mere fact of the occurrence, without regard
to that which occurs, is an object requiring investigation. The
transition from the non-being of a state into the existence of it,
supposing that this state contains no quality which previously existed
in the phenomenon, is a fact of itself demanding inquiry. Such an
event, as has been shown in No. A, does not concern substance (for
substance does not thus originate), but its condition or state. It is
therefore only change, and not origin from nothing. If this origin be
regarded as the effect of a foreign cause, it is termed creation, which
cannot be admitted as an event among phenomena, because the very
possibility of it would annihilate the unity of experience. If,
however, I regard all things not as phenomena, but as things in
themselves and objects of understanding alone, they, although
substances, may be considered as dependent, in respect of their
existence, on a foreign cause. But this would require a very different
meaning in the words, a meaning which could not apply to phenomena as
objects of possible experience.
How a thing can be changed, how it is possible that upon one state
existing in one point of time, an opposite state should follow in
another point of time—of this we have not the smallest conception à
priori. There is requisite for this the knowledge of real powers, which
can only be given empirically; for example, knowledge of moving forces,
or, in other words, of certain successive phenomena (as movements)
which indicate the presence of such forces. But the form of every
change, the condition under which alone it can take place as the coming
into existence of another state (be the content of the change, that is,
the state which is changed, what it may), and consequently the
succession of the states themselves can very well be considered à
priori, in relation to the law of causality and the conditions of
time.[32]
[32] It must be remarked that I do not speak of the change of certain
relations, but of the change of the state. Thus, when a body moves in
a uniform manner, it does not change its state (of motion); but only
when all motion increases or decreases.
When a substance passes from one state, a, into another state, b, the
point of time in which the latter exists is different from, and
subsequent to that in which the former existed. In like manner, the
second state, as reality (in the phenomenon), differs from the first,
in which the reality of the second did not exist, as b from zero. That
is to say, if the state, b, differs from the state, a, only in respect
to quantity, the change is a coming into existence of b -a, which in
the former state did not exist, and in relation to which that state is
= O.
Now the question arises how a thing passes from one state = a, into
another state = b. Between two moments there is always a certain time,
and between two states existing in these moments there is always a
difference having a certain quantity (for all parts of phenomena are
in their turn quantities). Consequently, every transition from one
state into another, is always effected in a time contained between
two moments, of which the first determines the state which the thing
leaves, and the second determines the state into which the thing
passes. Both moments, then, are limitations of the time of a change,
consequently of the intermediate state between both, and as such they
belong to the total of the change. Now every change has a cause, which
evidences its causality in the whole time during which the charge takes
place. The cause, therefore, does not produce the change all at once or
in one moment, but in a time, so that, as the time gradually increases
from the commencing instant, a, to its completion at b, in like manner
also, the quantity of the reality (b - a) is generated through the
lesser degrees which are contained between the first and last. All
change is therefore possible only through a continuous action of the
causality, which, in so far as it is uniform, we call a momentum. The
change does not consist of these momenta, but is generated or produced
by them as their effect.
Such is the law of the continuity of all change, the ground of which is
that neither time itself nor any phenomenon in time consists of parts
which are the smallest possible, but that, notwithstanding, the state
of a thing passes in the process of a change through all these parts,
as elements, to its second state. There is no smallest degree of
reality in a phenomenon, just as there is no smallest degree in the
quantity of time; and so the new state of reality grows up out of the
former state, through all the infinite degrees thereof, the differences
of which one from another, taken all together, are less than the
difference between 0 and a.
It is not our business to inquire here into the utility of this
principle in the investigation of nature. But how such a proposition,
which appears so greatly to extend our knowledge of nature, is possible
completely à priori, is indeed a question which deserves investigation,
although the first view seems to demonstrate the truth and reality of
the principle, and the question, how it is possible, may be considered
superfluous. For there are so many groundless pretensions to the
enlargement of our knowledge by pure reason that we must take it as a
general rule to be mistrustful of all such, and without a thoroughgoing
and radical deduction, to believe nothing of the sort even on the
clearest dogmatical evidence.
Every addition to our empirical knowledge, and every advance made in
the exercise of our perception, is nothing more than an extension of
the determination of the internal sense, that is to say, a progression
in time, be objects themselves what they may, phenomena, or pure
intuitions. This progression in time determines everything, and is
itself determined by nothing else. That is to say, the parts of the
progression exist only in time, and by means of the synthesis thereof,
and are not given antecedently to it. For this reason, every transition
in perception to anything which follows upon another in time, is a
determination of time by means of the production of this perception.
And as this determination of time is, always and in all its parts, a
quantity, the perception produced is to be considered as a quantity
which proceeds through all its degrees—no one of which is the smallest
possible—from zero up to its determined degree. From this we perceive
the possibility of cognizing à priori a law of changes—a law, however,
which concerns their form merely. We merely anticipate our own
apprehension, the formal condition of which, inasmuch as it is itself
to be found in the mind antecedently to all given phenomena, must
certainly be capable of being cognized à priori.
Thus, as time contains the sensuous condition à priori of the
possibility of a continuous progression of that which exists to that
which follows it, the understanding, by virtue of the unity of
apperception, contains the condition à priori of the possibility of a
continuous determination of the position in time of all phenomena, and
this by means of the series of causes and effects, the former of which
necessitate the sequence of the latter, and thereby render universally
and for all time, and by consequence, objectively, valid the empirical
cognition of the relations of time.
C. THIRD ANALOGY.
Principle of Coexistence, According to the Law of Reciprocity or
Community.
All substances, in so far as they can be perceived in space at the same
time, exist in a state of complete reciprocity of action.
PROOF.
Things are coexistent, when in empirical intuition the perception of
the one can follow upon the perception of the other, and vice
versa—which cannot occur in the succession of phenomena, as we have
shown in the explanation of the second principle. Thus I can perceive
the moon and then the earth, or conversely, first the earth and then
the moon; and for the reason that my perceptions of these objects can
reciprocally follow each other, I say, they exist contemporaneously.
Now coexistence is the existence of the manifold in the same time. But
time itself is not an object of perception; and therefore we cannot
conclude from the fact that things are placed in the same time, the
other fact, that the perception of these things can follow each other
reciprocally. The synthesis of the imagination in apprehension would
only present to us each of these perceptions as present in the subject
when the other is not present, and contrariwise; but would not show
that the objects are coexistent, that is to say, that, if the one
exists, the other also exists in the same time, and that this is
necessarily so, in order that the perceptions may be capable of
following each other reciprocally. It follows that a conception of the
understanding or category of the reciprocal sequence of the
determinations of phenomena (existing, as they do, apart from each
other, and yet contemporaneously), is requisite to justify us in saying
that the reciprocal succession of perceptions has its foundation in the
object, and to enable us to represent coexistence as objective. But
that relation of substances in which the one contains determinations
the ground of which is in the other substance, is the relation of
influence. And, when this influence is reciprocal, it is the relation
of community or reciprocity. Consequently the coexistence of substances
in space cannot be cognized in experience otherwise than under the
precondition of their reciprocal action. This is therefore the
condition of the possibility of things themselves as objects of
experience.
Things are coexistent, in so far as they exist in one and the same
time. But how can we know that they exist in one and the same time?
Only by observing that the order in the synthesis of apprehension of
the manifold is arbitrary and a matter of indifference, that is to say,
that it can proceed from A, through B, C, D, to E, or contrariwise from
E to A. For if they were successive in time (and in the order, let us
suppose, which begins with A), it is quite impossible for the
apprehension in perception to begin with E and go backwards to A,
inasmuch as A belongs to past time and, therefore, cannot be an object
of apprehension.
Let us assume that in a number of substances considered as phenomena
each is completely isolated, that is, that no one acts upon another.
Then I say that the coexistence of these cannot be an object of
possible perception and that the existence of one cannot, by any mode
of empirical synthesis, lead us to the existence of another. For we
imagine them in this case to be separated by a completely void space,
and thus perception, which proceeds from the one to the other in time,
would indeed determine their existence by means of a following
perception, but would be quite unable to distinguish whether the one
phenomenon follows objectively upon the first, or is coexistent with
it.
Besides the mere fact of existence, then, there must be something by
means of which A determines the position of B in time and, conversely,
B the position of A; because only under this condition can substances
be empirically represented as existing contemporaneously. Now that
alone determines the position of another thing in time which is the
cause of it or of its determinations. Consequently every substance
(inasmuch as it can have succession predicated of it only in respect of
its determinations) must contain the causality of certain
determinations in another substance, and at the same time the effects
of the causality of the other in itself. That is to say, substances
must stand (mediately or immediately) in dynamical community with each
other, if coexistence is to be cognized in any possible experience.
But, in regard to objects of experience, that is absolutely necessary
without which the experience of these objects would itself be
impossible. Consequently it is absolutely necessary that all substances
in the world of phenomena, in so far as they are coexistent, stand in a
relation of complete community of reciprocal action to each other.
The word community has in our language[33] two meanings, and contains
the two notions conveyed in the Latin communio and commercium. We
employ it in this place in the latter sense—that of a dynamical
community, without which even the community of place (communio spatii)
could not be empirically cognized. In our experiences it is easy to
observe that it is only the continuous influences in all parts of space
that can conduct our senses from one object to another; that the light
which plays between our eyes and the heavenly bodies produces a
mediating community between them and us, and thereby evidences their
coexistence with us; that we cannot empirically change our position
(perceive this change), unless the existence of matter throughout the
whole of space rendered possible the perception of the positions we
occupy; and that this perception can prove the contemporaneous
existence of these places only through their reciprocal influence, and
thereby also the coexistence of even the most remote objects—although
in this case the proof is only mediate. Without community, every
perception (of a phenomenon in space) is separated from every other and
isolated, and the chain of empirical representations, that is, of
experience, must, with the appearance of a new object, begin entirely
de novo, without the least connection with preceding representations,
and without standing towards these even in the relation of time. My
intention here is by no means to combat the notion of empty space; for
it may exist where our perceptions cannot exist, inasmuch as they
cannot reach thereto, and where, therefore, no empirical perception of
coexistence takes place. But in this case it is not an object of
possible experience.
[33] German
The following remarks may be useful in the way of explanation. In the
mind, all phenomena, as contents of a possible experience, must exist
in community (communio) of apperception or consciousness, and in so far
as it is requisite that objects be represented as coexistent and
connected, in so far must they reciprocally determine the position in
time of each other and thereby constitute a whole. If this subjective
community is to rest upon an objective basis, or to be applied to
substances as phenomena, the perception of one substance must render
possible the perception of another, and conversely. For otherwise
succession, which is always found in perceptions as apprehensions,
would be predicated of external objects, and their representation of
their coexistence be thus impossible. But this is a reciprocal
influence, that is to say, a real community (commercium) of substances,
without which therefore the empirical relation of coexistence would be
a notion beyond the reach of our minds. By virtue of this commercium,
phenomena, in so far as they are apart from, and nevertheless in
connection with each other, constitute a compositum reale. Such
composita are possible in many different ways. The three dynamical
relations then, from which all others spring, are those of inherence,
consequence, and composition.
These, then, are the three analogies of experience. They are nothing
more than principles of the determination of the existence of phenomena
in time, according to the three modi of this determination; to wit, the
relation to time itself as a quantity (the quantity of existence, that
is, duration), the relation in time as a series or succession, finally,
the relation in time as the complex of all existence (simultaneity).
This unity of determination in regard to time is thoroughly dynamical;
that is to say, time is not considered as that in which experience
determines immediately to every existence its position; for this is
impossible, inasmuch as absolute time is not an object of perception,
by means of which phenomena can be connected with each other. On the
contrary, the rule of the understanding, through which alone the
existence of phenomena can receive synthetical unity as regards
relations of time, determines for every phenomenon its position in
time, and consequently à priori, and with validity for all and every
time.
By nature, in the empirical sense of the word, we understand the
totality of phenomena connected, in respect of their existence,
according to necessary rules, that is, laws. There are therefore
certain laws (which are moreover à priori) which make nature possible;
and all empirical laws can exist only by means of experience, and by
virtue of those primitive laws through which experience itself becomes
possible. The purpose of the analogies is therefore to represent to us
the unity of nature in the connection of all phenomena under certain
exponents, the only business of which is to express the relation of
time (in so far as it contains all existence in itself) to the unity of
apperception, which can exist in synthesis only according to rules. The
combined expression of all is this: “All phenomena exist in one nature,
and must so exist, inasmuch as without this à priori unity, no unity of
experience, and consequently no determination of objects in experience,
is possible.”
As regards the mode of proof which we have employed in treating of
these transcendental laws of nature, and the peculiar character of
it we must make one remark, which will at the same time be important
as a guide in every other attempt to demonstrate the truth of
intellectual and likewise synthetical propositions à priori. Had we
endeavoured to prove these analogies dogmatically, that is, from
conceptions; that is to say, had we employed this method in attempting
to show that everything which exists, exists only in that which is
permanent—that every thing or event presupposes the existence of
something in a preceding state, upon which it follows in conformity
with a rule—lastly, that in the manifold, which is coexistent, the
states coexist in connection with each other according to a rule, all
our labour would have been utterly in vain. For mere conceptions of
things, analyse them as we may, cannot enable us to conclude from the
existence of one object to the existence of another. What other course
was left for us to pursue? This only, to demonstrate the possibility
of experience as a cognition in which at last all objects must be
capable of being presented to us, if the representation of them is
to possess any objective reality. Now in this third, this mediating
term, the essential form of which consists in the synthetical unity
of the apperception of all phenomena, we found à priori conditions
of the universal and necessary determination as to time of all
existences in the world of phenomena, without which the empirical
determination thereof as to time would itself be impossible, and we
also discovered rules of synthetical unity à priori, by means of
which we could anticipate experience. For want of this method, and
from the fancy that it was possible to discover a dogmatical proof
of the synthetical propositions which are requisite in the empirical
employment of the understanding, has it happened that a proof of the
principle of sufficient reason has been so often attempted, and always
in vain. The other two analogies nobody has ever thought of, although
they have always been silently employed by the mind,[34] because the
guiding thread furnished by the categories was wanting, the guide which
alone can enable us to discover every hiatus, both in the system of
conceptions and of principles.
[34] The unity of the universe, in which all phenomena to be
connected, is evidently a mere consequence of the admitted principle
of the community of all substances which are coexistent. For were
substances isolated, they could not as parts constitute a whole, and
were their connection (reciprocal action of the manifold) not
necessary from the very fact of coexistence, we could not conclude
from the fact of the latter as a merely ideal relation to the former
as a real one. We have, however, shown in its place that community is
the proper ground of the possibility of an empirical cognition of
coexistence, and that we may therefore properly reason from the latter
to the former as its condition.
4. THE POSTULATES OF EMPIRICAL THOUGHT.
1. That which agrees with the formal conditions (intuition and
conception) of experience, is possible.
2. That which coheres with the material conditions of experience
(sensation), is real.
3. That whose coherence with the real is determined according to
universal conditions of experience is (exists) necessary.
Explanation.
The categories of modality possess this peculiarity, that they do not
in the least determine the object, or enlarge the conception to which
they are annexed as predicates, but only express its relation to the
faculty of cognition. Though my conception of a thing is in itself
complete, I am still entitled to ask whether the object of it is merely
possible, or whether it is also real, or, if the latter, whether it is
also necessary. But hereby the object itself is not more definitely
determined in thought, but the question is only in what relation it,
including all its determinations, stands to the understanding and its
employment in experience, to the empirical faculty of judgement, and to
the reason of its application to experience.
For this very reason, too, the categories of modality are nothing more
than explanations of the conceptions of possibility, reality, and
necessity, as employed in experience, and at the same time,
restrictions of all the categories to empirical use alone, not
authorizing the transcendental employment of them. For if they are to
have something more than a merely logical significance, and to be
something more than a mere analytical expression of the form of
thought, and to have a relation to things and their possibility,
reality, or necessity, they must concern possible experience and its
synthetical unity, in which alone objects of cognition can be given.
The postulate of the possibility of things requires also, that the
conception of the things agree with the formal conditions of our
experience in general. But this, that is to say, the objective form of
experience, contains all the kinds of synthesis which are requisite for
the cognition of objects. A conception which contains a synthesis must
be regarded as empty and, without reference to an object, if its
synthesis does not belong to experience—either as borrowed from it, and
in this case it is called an empirical conception, or such as is the
ground and à priori condition of experience (its form), and in this
case it is a pure conception, a conception which nevertheless belongs
to experience, inasmuch as its object can be found in this alone. For
where shall we find the criterion or character of the possibility of an
object which is cogitated by means of an à priori synthetical
conception, if not in the synthesis which constitutes the form of
empirical cognition of objects? That in such a conception no
contradiction exists is indeed a necessary logical condition, but very
far from being sufficient to establish the objective reality of the
conception, that is, the possibility of such an object as is thought in
the conception. Thus, in the conception of a figure which is contained
within two straight lines, there is no contradiction, for the
conceptions of two straight lines and of their junction contain no
negation of a figure. The impossibility in such a case does not rest
upon the conception in itself, but upon the construction of it in
space, that is to say, upon the conditions of space and its
determinations. But these have themselves objective reality, that is,
they apply to possible things, because they contain à priori the form
of experience in general.
And now we shall proceed to point out the extensive utility and
influence of this postulate of possibility. When I represent to myself
a thing that is permanent, so that everything in it which changes
belongs merely to its state or condition, from such a conception alone
I never can cognize that such a thing is possible. Or, if I represent
to myself something which is so constituted that, when it is posited,
something else follows always and infallibly, my thought contains no
self-contradiction; but whether such a property as causality is to be
found in any possible thing, my thought alone affords no means of
judging. Finally, I can represent to myself different things
(substances) which are so constituted that the state or condition of
one causes a change in the state of the other, and reciprocally; but
whether such a relation is a property of things cannot be perceived
from these conceptions, which contain a merely arbitrary synthesis.
Only from the fact, therefore, that these conceptions express à priori
the relations of perceptions in every experience, do we know that they
possess objective reality, that is, transcendental truth; and that
independent of experience, though not independent of all relation to
form of an experience in general and its synthetical unity, in which
alone objects can be empirically cognized.
But when we fashion to ourselves new conceptions of substances, forces,
action, and reaction, from the material presented to us by perception,
without following the example of experience in their connection, we
create mere chimeras, of the possibility of which we cannot discover
any criterion, because we have not taken experience for our
instructress, though we have borrowed the conceptions from her. Such
fictitious conceptions derive their character of possibility not, like
the categories, à priori, as conceptions on which all experience
depends, but only, à posteriori, as conceptions given by means of
experience itself, and their possibility must either be cognized à
posteriori and empirically, or it cannot be cognized at all. A
substance which is permanently present in space, yet without filling it
(like that tertium quid between matter and the thinking subject which
some have tried to introduce into metaphysics), or a peculiar
fundamental power of the mind of intuiting the future by anticipation
(instead of merely inferring from past and present events), or,
finally, a power of the mind to place itself in community of thought
with other men, however distant they may be—these are conceptions the
possibility of which has no ground to rest upon. For they are not based
upon experience and its known laws; and, without experience, they are a
merely arbitrary conjunction of thoughts, which, though containing no
internal contradiction, has no claim to objective reality, neither,
consequently, to the possibility of such an object as is thought in
these conceptions. As far as concerns reality, it is self-evident that
we cannot cogitate such a possibility in concreto without the aid of
experience; because reality is concerned only with sensation, as the
matter of experience, and not with the form of thought, with which we
can no doubt indulge in shaping fancies.
But I pass by everything which derives its possibility from reality in
experience, and I purpose treating here merely of the possibility of
things by means of à priori conceptions. I maintain, then, that the
possibility of things is not derived from such conceptions per se, but
only when considered as formal and objective conditions of an
experience in general.
It seems, indeed, as if the possibility of a triangle could be cognized
from the conception of it alone (which is certainly independent of
experience); for we can certainly give to the conception a
corresponding object completely à priori, that is to say, we can
construct it. But as a triangle is only the form of an object, it must
remain a mere product of the imagination, and the possibility of the
existence of an object corresponding to it must remain doubtful, unless
we can discover some other ground, unless we know that the figure can
be cogitated under the conditions upon which all objects of experience
rest. Now, the facts that space is a formal condition à priori of
external experience, that the formative synthesis, by which we
construct a triangle in imagination, is the very same as that we employ
in the apprehension of a phenomenon for the purpose of making an
empirical conception of it, are what alone connect the notion of the
possibility of such a thing, with the conception of it. In the same
manner, the possibility of continuous quantities, indeed of quantities
in general, for the conceptions of them are without exception
synthetical, is never evident from the conceptions in themselves, but
only when they are considered as the formal conditions of the
determination of objects in experience. And where, indeed, should we
look for objects to correspond to our conceptions, if not in
experience, by which alone objects are presented to us? It is, however,
true that without antecedent experience we can cognize and characterize
the possibility of things, relatively to the formal conditions, under
which something is determined in experience as an object, consequently,
completely à priori. But still this is possible only in relation to
experience and within its limits.
The postulate concerning the cognition of the reality of things
requires perception, consequently conscious sensation, not indeed
immediately, that is, of the object itself, whose existence is to be
cognized, but still that the object have some connection with a real
perception, in accordance with the analogies of experience, which
exhibit all kinds of real connection in experience.
From the mere conception of a thing it is impossible to conclude its
existence. For, let the conception be ever so complete, and containing
a statement of all the determinations of the thing, the existence of it
has nothing to do with all this, but only with the question whether
such a thing is given, so that the perception of it can in every case
precede the conception. For the fact that the conception of it precedes
the perception, merely indicates the possibility of its existence; it
is perception which presents matter to the conception, that is the sole
criterion of reality. Prior to the perception of the thing, however,
and therefore comparatively à priori, we are able to cognize its
existence, provided it stands in connection with some perceptions
according to the principles of the empirical conjunction of these, that
is, in conformity with the analogies of perception. For, in this case,
the existence of the supposed thing is connected with our perception in
a possible experience, and we are able, with the guidance of these
analogies, to reason in the series of possible perceptions from a thing
which we do really perceive to the thing we do not perceive. Thus, we
cognize the existence of a magnetic matter penetrating all bodies from
the perception of the attraction of the steel-filings by the magnet,
although the constitution of our organs renders an immediate perception
of this matter impossible for us. For, according to the laws of
sensibility and the connected context of our perceptions, we should in
an experience come also on an immediate empirical intuition of this
matter, if our senses were more acute—but this obtuseness has no
influence upon and cannot alter the form of possible experience in
general. Our knowledge of the existence of things reaches as far as our
perceptions, and what may be inferred from them according to empirical
laws, extend. If we do not set out from experience, or do not proceed
according to the laws of the empirical connection of phenomena, our
pretensions to discover the existence of a thing which we do not
immediately perceive are vain. Idealism, however, brings forward
powerful objections to these rules for proving existence mediately.
This is, therefore, the proper place for its refutation.
REFUTATION OF IDEALISM.
Idealism—I mean material idealism—is the theory which declares the
existence of objects in space without us to be either () doubtful and
indemonstrable, or (2) false and impossible. The first is the
problematical idealism of Descartes, who admits the undoubted certainty
of only one empirical assertion (assertio), to wit, “I am.” The second
is the dogmatical idealism of Berkeley, who maintains that space,
together with all the objects of which it is the inseparable condition,
is a thing which is in itself impossible, and that consequently the
objects in space are mere products of the imagination. The dogmatical
theory of idealism is unavoidable, if we regard space as a property of
things in themselves; for in that case it is, with all to which it
serves as condition, a nonentity. But the foundation for this kind of
idealism we have already destroyed in the transcendental æsthetic.
Problematical idealism, which makes no such assertion, but only alleges
our incapacity to prove the existence of anything besides ourselves by
means of immediate experience, is a theory rational and evidencing a
thorough and philosophical mode of thinking, for it observes the rule
not to form a decisive judgement before sufficient proof be shown. The
desired proof must therefore demonstrate that we have experience of
external things, and not mere fancies. For this purpose, we must prove,
that our internal and, to Descartes, indubitable experience is itself
possible only under the previous assumption of external experience.
THEOREM.
The simple but empirically determined consciousness of my own existence
proves the existence of external objects in space.
PROOF
I am conscious of my own existence as determined in time. All
determination in regard to time presupposes the existence of something
permanent in perception. But this permanent something cannot be
something in me, for the very reason that my existence in time is
itself determined by this permanent something. It follows that the
perception of this permanent existence is possible only through a thing
without me and not through the mere representation of a thing without
me. Consequently, the determination of my existence in time is possible
only through the existence of real things external to me. Now,
consciousness in time is necessarily connected with the consciousness
of the possibility of this determination in time. Hence it follows that
consciousness in time is necessarily connected also with the existence
of things without me, inasmuch as the existence of these things is the
condition of determination in time. That is to say, the consciousness
of my own existence is at the same time an immediate consciousness of
the existence of other things without me.
Remark I. The reader will observe, that in the foregoing proof the game
which idealism plays is retorted upon itself, and with more justice. It
assumed that the only immediate experience is internal and that from
this we can only infer the existence of external things. But, as always
happens, when we reason from given effects to determined causes,
idealism has reasoned with too much haste and uncertainty, for it is
quite possible that the cause of our representations may lie in
ourselves, and that we ascribe it falsely to external things. But our
proof shows that external experience is properly immediate,[35] that
only by virtue of it—not, indeed, the consciousness of our own
existence, but certainly the determination of our existence in time,
that is, internal experience—is possible. It is true, that the
representation “I am,” which is the expression of the consciousness
which can accompany all my thoughts, is that which immediately includes
the existence of a subject. But in this representation we cannot find
any knowledge of the subject, and therefore also no empirical
knowledge, that is, experience. For experience contains, in addition to
the thought of something existing, intuition, and in this case it must
be internal intuition, that is, time, in relation to which the subject
must be determined. But the existence of external things is absolutely
requisite for this purpose, so that it follows that internal experience
is itself possible only mediately and through external experience.
[35] The immediate consciousness of the existence of external things
is, in the preceding theorem, not presupposed, but proved, by the
possibility of this consciousness understood by us or not. The
question as to the possibility of it would stand thus: “Have we an
internal sense, but no external sense, and is our belief in external
perception a mere delusion?” But it is evident that, in order merely
to fancy to ourselves anything as external, that is, to present it to
the sense in intuition we must already possess an external sense, and
must thereby distinguish immediately the mere receptivity of an
external intuition from the spontaneity which characterizes every act
of imagination. For merely to imagine also an external sense, would
annihilate the faculty of intuition itself which is to be determined
by the imagination.
Remark II. Now with this view all empirical use of our faculty of
cognition in the determination of time is in perfect accordance. Its
truth is supported by the fact that it is possible to perceive a
determination of time only by means of a change in external relations
(motion) to the permanent in space (for example, we become aware of the
sun’s motion by observing the changes of his relation to the objects of
this earth). But this is not all. We find that we possess nothing
permanent that can correspond and be submitted to the conception of a
substance as intuition, except matter. This idea of permanence is not
itself derived from external experience, but is an à priori necessary
condition of all determination of time, consequently also of the
internal sense in reference to our own existence, and that through the
existence of external things. In the representation “I,” the
consciousness of myself is not an intuition, but a merely intellectual
representation produced by the spontaneous activity of a thinking
subject. It follows, that this “i” has not any predicate of intuition,
which, in its character of permanence, could serve as correlate to the
determination of time in the internal sense—in the same way as
impenetrability is the correlate of matter as an empirical intuition.
Remark III. From the fact that the existence of external things is a
necessary condition of the possibility of a determined consciousness of
ourselves, it does not follow that every intuitive representation of
external things involves the existence of these things, for their
representations may very well be the mere products of the imagination
(in dreams as well as in madness); though, indeed, these are themselves
created by the reproduction of previous external perceptions, which, as
has been shown, are possible only through the reality of external
objects. The sole aim of our remarks has, however, been to prove that
internal experience in general is possible only through external
experience in general. Whether this or that supposed experience be
purely imaginary must be discovered from its particular determinations
and by comparing these with the criteria of all real experience.
Finally, as regards the third postulate, it applies to material
necessity in existence, and not to merely formal and logical necessity
in the connection of conceptions. Now as we cannot cognize completely à
priori the existence of any object of sense, though we can do so
comparatively à priori, that is, relatively to some other previously
given existence—a cognition, however, which can only be of such an
existence as must be contained in the complex of experience, of which
the previously given perception is a part—the necessity of existence
can never be cognized from conceptions, but always, on the contrary,
from its connection with that which is an object of perception. But the
only existence cognized, under the condition of other given phenomena,
as necessary, is the existence of effects from given causes in
conformity with the laws of causality. It is consequently not the
necessity of the existence of things (as substances), but the necessity
of the state of things that we cognize, and that not immediately, but
by means of the existence of other states given in perception,
according to empirical laws of causality. Hence it follows that the
criterion of necessity is to be found only in the law of possible
experience—that everything which happens is determined à priori in the
phenomenon by its cause. Thus we cognize only the necessity of effects
in nature, the causes of which are given us. Moreover, the criterion of
necessity in existence possesses no application beyond the field of
possible experience, and even in this it is not valid of the existence
of things as substances, because these can never be considered as
empirical effects, or as something that happens and has a beginning.
Necessity, therefore, regards only the relations of phenomena according
to the dynamical law of causality, and the possibility grounded
thereon, of reasoning from some given existence (of a cause) à priori
to another existence (of an effect). “Everything that happens is
hypothetically necessary,” is a principle which subjects the changes
that take place in the world to a law, that is, to a rule of necessary
existence, without which nature herself could not possibly exist. Hence
the proposition, “Nothing happens by blind chance (in mundo non datur
casus),” is an à priori law of nature. The case is the same with the
proposition, “Necessity in nature is not blind,” that is, it is
conditioned, consequently intelligible necessity (non datur fatum).
Both laws subject the play of change to “a nature of things (as
phenomena),” or, which is the same thing, to the unity of the
understanding, and through the understanding alone can changes belong
to an experience, as the synthetical unity of phenomena. Both belong to
the class of dynamical principles. The former is properly a consequence
of the principle of causality—one of the analogies of experience. The
latter belongs to the principles of modality, which to the
determination of causality adds the conception of necessity, which is
itself, however, subject to a rule of the understanding. The principle
of continuity forbids any leap in the series of phenomena regarded as
changes (in mundo non datur saltus); and likewise, in the complex of
all empirical intuitions in space, any break or hiatus between two
phenomena (non datur hiatus)—for we can so express the principle, that
experience can admit nothing which proves the existence of a vacuum, or
which even admits it as a part of an empirical synthesis. For, as
regards a vacuum or void, which we may cogitate as out and beyond the
field of possible experience (the world), such a question cannot come
before the tribunal of mere understanding, which decides only upon
questions that concern the employment of given phenomena for the
construction of empirical cognition. It is rather a problem for ideal
reason, which passes beyond the sphere of a possible experience and
aims at forming a judgement of that which surrounds and circumscribes
it, and the proper place for the consideration of it is the
transcendental dialectic. These four propositions, “In mundo non datur
hiatus, non datur saltus, non datur casus, non datur fatum,” as well as
all principles of transcendental origin, we could very easily exhibit
in their proper order, that is, in conformity with the order of the
categories, and assign to each its proper place. But the already
practised reader will do this for himself, or discover the clue to such
an arrangement. But the combined result of all is simply this, to admit
into the empirical synthesis nothing which might cause a break in or be
foreign to the understanding and the continuous connection of all
phenomena, that is, the unity of the conceptions of the understanding.
For in the understanding alone is the unity of experience, in which all
perceptions must have their assigned place, possible.
Whether the field of possibility be greater than that of reality, and
whether the field of the latter be itself greater than that of
necessity, are interesting enough questions, and quite capable of
synthetic solution, questions, however, which come under the
jurisdiction of reason alone. For they are tantamount to asking whether
all things as phenomena do without exception belong to the complex and
connected whole of a single experience, of which every given perception
is a part which therefore cannot be conjoined with any other
phenomena—or, whether my perceptions can belong to more than one
possible experience? The understanding gives to experience, according
to the subjective and formal conditions, of sensibility as well as of
apperception, the rules which alone make this experience possible.
Other forms of intuition besides those of space and time, other forms
of understanding besides the discursive forms of thought, or of
cognition by means of conceptions, we can neither imagine nor make
intelligible to ourselves; and even if we could, they would still not
belong to experience, which is the only mode of cognition by which
objects are presented to us. Whether other perceptions besides those
which belong to the total of our possible experience, and consequently
whether some other sphere of matter exists, the understanding has no
power to decide, its proper occupation being with the synthesis of that
which is given. Moreover, the poverty of the usual arguments which go
to prove the existence of a vast sphere of possibility, of which all
that is real (every object of experience) is but a small part, is very
remarkable. “All real is possible”; from this follows naturally,
according to the logical laws of conversion, the particular
proposition: “Some possible is real.” Now this seems to be equivalent
to: “Much is possible that is not real.” No doubt it does seem as if we
ought to consider the sum of the possible to be greater than that of
the real, from the fact that something must be added to the former to
constitute the latter. But this notion of adding to the possible is
absurd. For that which is not in the sum of the possible, and
consequently requires to be added to it, is manifestly impossible. In
addition to accordance with the formal conditions of experience, the
understanding requires a connection with some perception; but that
which is connected with this perception is real, even although it is
not immediately perceived. But that another series of phenomena, in
complete coherence with that which is given in perception, consequently
more than one all-embracing experience is possible, is an inference
which cannot be concluded from the data given us by experience, and
still less without any data at all. That which is possible only under
conditions which are themselves merely possible, is not possible in any
respect. And yet we can find no more certain ground on which to base
the discussion of the question whether the sphere of possibility is
wider than that of experience.
I have merely mentioned these questions, that in treating of the
conception of the understanding, there might be no omission of anything
that, in the common opinion, belongs to them. In reality, however, the
notion of absolute possibility (possibility which is valid in every
respect) is not a mere conception of the understanding, which can be
employed empirically, but belongs to reason alone, which passes the
bounds of all empirical use of the understanding. We have, therefore,
contented ourselves with a merely critical remark, leaving the subject
to be explained in the sequel.
Before concluding this fourth section, and at the same time the system
of all principles of the pure understanding, it seems proper to mention
the reasons which induced me to term the principles of modality
postulates. This expression I do not here use in the sense which some
more recent philosophers, contrary to its meaning with mathematicians,
to whom the word properly belongs, attach to it—that of a proposition,
namely, immediately certain, requiring neither deduction nor proof. For
if, in the case of synthetical propositions, however evident they may
be, we accord to them without deduction, and merely on the strength of
their own pretensions, unqualified belief, all critique of the
understanding is entirely lost; and, as there is no want of bold
pretensions, which the common belief (though for the philosopher this
is no credential) does not reject, the understanding lies exposed to
every delusion and conceit, without the power of refusing its assent to
those assertions, which, though illegitimate, demand acceptance as
veritable axioms. When, therefore, to the conception of a thing an à
priori determination is synthetically added, such a proposition must
obtain, if not a proof, at least a deduction of the legitimacy of its
assertion.
The principles of modality are, however, not objectively synthetical,
for the predicates of possibility, reality, and necessity do not in the
least augment the conception of that of which they are affirmed,
inasmuch as they contribute nothing to the representation of the
object. But as they are, nevertheless, always synthetical, they are so
merely subjectively. That is to say, they have a reflective power, and
apply to the conception of a thing, of which, in other respects, they
affirm nothing, the faculty of cognition in which the conception
originates and has its seat. So that if the conception merely agree
with the formal conditions of experience, its object is called
possible; if it is in connection with perception, and determined
thereby, the object is real; if it is determined according to
conceptions by means of the connection of perceptions, the object is
called necessary. The principles of modality therefore predicate of a
conception nothing more than the procedure of the faculty of cognition
which generated it. Now a postulate in mathematics is a practical
proposition which contains nothing but the synthesis by which we
present an object to ourselves, and produce the conception of it, for
example—“With a given line, to describe a circle upon a plane, from a
given point”; and such a proposition does not admit of proof, because
the procedure, which it requires, is exactly that by which alone it is
possible to generate the conception of such a figure. With the same
right, accordingly, can we postulate the principles of modality,
because they do not augment[36] the conception of a thing but merely
indicate the manner in which it is connected with the faculty of
cognition.
[36] When I think the reality of a thing, I do really think more than
the possibility, but not in the thing; for that can never contain more
in reality than was contained in its complete possibility. But while
the notion of possibility is merely the notion of a position of thing
in relation to the understanding (its empirical use), reality is the
conjunction of the thing with perception.
GENERAL REMARK ON THE SYSTEM OF PRINCIPLES.
It is very remarkable that we cannot perceive the possibility of a
thing from the category alone, but must always have an intuition, by
which to make evident the objective reality of the pure conception of
the understanding. Take, for example, the categories of relation. How
(1) a thing can exist only as a subject, and not as a mere
determination of other things, that is, can be substance; or how (2),
because something exists, some other thing must exist, consequently how
a thing can be a cause; or how (3), when several things exist, from the
fact that one of these things exists, some consequence to the others
follows, and reciprocally, and in this way a community of substances
can be possible—are questions whose solution cannot be obtained from
mere conceptions. The very same is the case with the other categories;
for example, how a thing can be of the same sort with many others, that
is, can be a quantity, and so on. So long as we have not intuition we
cannot know whether we do really think an object by the categories, and
where an object can anywhere be found to cohere with them, and thus the
truth is established, that the categories are not in themselves
cognitions, but mere forms of thought for the construction of
cognitions from given intuitions. For the same reason is it true that
from categories alone no synthetical proposition can be made. For
example: “In every existence there is substance,” that is, something
that can exist only as a subject and not as mere predicate; or,
“Everything is a quantity”—to construct propositions such as these, we
require something to enable us to go out beyond the given conception
and connect another with it. For the same reason the attempt to prove a
synthetical proposition by means of mere conceptions, for example:
“Everything that exists contingently has a cause,” has never succeeded.
We could never get further than proving that, without this relation to
conceptions, we could not conceive the existence of the contingent,
that is, could not à priori through the understanding cognize the
existence of such a thing; but it does not hence follow that this is
also the condition of the possibility of the thing itself that is said
to be contingent. If, accordingly; we look back to our proof of the
principle of causality, we shall find that we were able to prove it as
valid only of objects of possible experience, and, indeed, only as
itself the principle of the possibility of experience, Consequently of
the cognition of an object given in empirical intuition, and not from
mere conceptions. That, however, the proposition: “Everything that is
contingent must have a cause,” is evident to every one merely from
conceptions, is not to be denied. But in this case the conception of
the contingent is cogitated as involving not the category of modality
(as that the non-existence of which can be conceived) but that of
relation (as that which can exist only as the consequence of something
else), and so it is really an identical proposition: “That which can
exist only as a consequence, has a cause.” In fact, when we have to
give examples of contingent existence, we always refer to changes, and
not merely to the possibility of conceiving the opposite.[37] But
change is an event, which, as such, is possible only through a cause,
and considered per se its non-existence is therefore possible, and we
become cognizant of its contingency from the fact that it can exist
only as the effect of a cause. Hence, if a thing is assumed to be
contingent, it is an analytical proposition to say, it has a cause.
[37] We can easily conceive the non-existence of matter; but the
ancients did not thence infer its contingency. But even the
alternation of the existence and non-existence of a given state in a
thing, in which all change consists, by no means proves the
contingency of that state—the ground of proof being the reality of its
opposite. For example, a body is in a state of rest after motion, but
we cannot infer the contingency of the motion from the fact that the
former is the opposite of the latter. For this opposite is merely a
logical and not a real opposite to the other. If we wish to
demonstrate the contingency of the motion, what we ought to prove is
that, instead of the motion which took place in the preceding point of
time, it was possible for the body to have been then in rest, not,
that it is afterwards in rest; for in this case, both opposites are
perfectly consistent with each other.
But it is still more remarkable that, to understand the possibility of
things according to the categories and thus to demonstrate the
objective reality of the latter, we require not merely intuitions, but
external intuitions. If, for example, we take the pure conceptions of
relation, we find that (1) for the purpose of presenting to the
conception of substance something permanent in intuition corresponding
thereto and thus of demonstrating the objective reality of this
conception, we require an intuition (of matter) in space, because space
alone is permanent and determines things as such, while time, and with
it all that is in the internal sense, is in a state of continual flow;
(2) in order to represent change as the intuition corresponding to the
conception of causality, we require the representation of motion as
change in space; in fact, it is through it alone that changes, the
possibility of which no pure understanding can perceive, are capable of
being intuited. Change is the connection of determinations
contradictorily opposed to each other in the existence of one and the
same thing. Now, how it is possible that out of a given state one quite
opposite to it in the same thing should follow, reason without an
example can not only not conceive, but cannot even make intelligible
without intuition; and this intuition is the motion of a point in
space; the existence of which in different spaces (as a consequence of
opposite determinations) alone makes the intuition of change possible.
For, in order to make even internal change cognitable, we require to
represent time, as the form of the internal sense, figuratively by a
line, and the internal change by the drawing of that line (motion), and
consequently are obliged to employ external intuition to be able to
represent the successive existence of ourselves in different states.
The proper ground of this fact is that all change to be perceived as
change presupposes something permanent in intuition, while in the
internal sense no permanent intuition is to be found. Lastly, the
objective possibility of the category of community cannot be conceived
by mere reason, and consequently its objective reality cannot be
demonstrated without an intuition, and that external in space. For how
can we conceive the possibility of community, that is, when several
substances exist, that some effect on the existence of the one follows
from the existence of the other, and reciprocally, and therefore that,
because something exists in the latter, something else must exist in
the former, which could not be understood from its own existence alone?
For this is the very essence of community—which is inconceivable as a
property of things which are perfectly isolated. Hence, Leibnitz, in
attributing to the substances of the world—as cogitated by the
understanding alone—a community, required the mediating aid of a
divinity; for, from their existence, such a property seemed to him with
justice inconceivable. But we can very easily conceive the possibility
of community (of substances as phenomena) if we represent them to
ourselves as in space, consequently in external intuition. For external
intuition contains in itself à priori formal external relations, as the
conditions of the possibility of the real relations of action and
reaction, and therefore of the possibility of community. With the same
ease can it be demonstrated, that the possibility of things as
quantities, and consequently the objective reality of the category of
quantity, can be grounded only in external intuition, and that by its
means alone is the notion of quantity appropriated by the internal
sense. But I must avoid prolixity, and leave the task of illustrating
this by examples to the reader’s own reflection.
The above remarks are of the greatest importance, not only for the
confirmation of our previous confutation of idealism, but still more
when the subject of self-cognition by mere internal consciousness and
the determination of our own nature without the aid of external
empirical intuitions is under discussion, for the indication of the
grounds of the possibility of such a cognition.
The result of the whole of this part of the analytic of principles is,
therefore: “All principles of the pure understanding are nothing more
than à priori principles of the possibility of experience, and to
experience alone do all à priori synthetical propositions apply and
relate”; indeed, their possibility itself rests entirely on this
relation.
Chapter III Of the Ground of the Division of all Objects into Phenomena
and Noumena
We have now not only traversed the region of the pure understanding and
carefully surveyed every part of it, but we have also measured it, and
assigned to everything therein its proper place. But this land is an
island, and enclosed by nature herself within unchangeable limits. It
is the land of truth (an attractive word), surrounded by a wide and
stormy ocean, the region of illusion, where many a fog-bank, many an
iceberg, seems to the mariner, on his voyage of discovery, a new
country, and, while constantly deluding him with vain hopes, engages
him in dangerous adventures, from which he never can desist, and which
yet he never can bring to a termination. But before venturing upon this
sea, in order to explore it in its whole extent, and to arrive at a
certainty whether anything is to be discovered there, it will not be
without advantage if we cast our eyes upon the chart of the land that
we are about to leave, and to ask ourselves, firstly, whether we cannot
rest perfectly contented with what it contains, or whether we must not
of necessity be contented with it, if we can find nowhere else a solid
foundation to build upon; and, secondly, by what title we possess this
land itself, and how we hold it secure against all hostile claims?
Although, in the course of our analytic, we have already given
sufficient answers to these questions, yet a summary recapitulation of
these solutions may be useful in strengthening our conviction, by
uniting in one point the momenta of the arguments.
We have seen that everything which the understanding draws from itself,
without borrowing from experience, it nevertheless possesses only for
the behoof and use of experience. The principles of the pure
understanding, whether constitutive à priori (as the mathematical
principles), or merely regulative (as the dynamical), contain nothing
but the pure schema, as it were, of possible experience. For experience
possesses its unity from the synthetical unity which the understanding,
originally and from itself, imparts to the synthesis of the imagination
in relation to apperception, and in à priori relation to and agreement
with which phenomena, as data for a possible cognition, must stand. But
although these rules of the understanding are not only à priori true,
but the very source of all truth, that is, of the accordance of our
cognition with objects, and on this ground, that they contain the basis
of the possibility of experience, as the ensemble of all cognition, it
seems to us not enough to propound what is true—we desire also to be
told what we want to know. If, then, we learn nothing more by this
critical examination than what we should have practised in the merely
empirical use of the understanding, without any such subtle inquiry,
the presumption is that the advantage we reap from it is not worth the
labour bestowed upon it. It may certainly be answered that no rash
curiosity is more prejudicial to the enlargement of our knowledge than
that which must know beforehand the utility of this or that piece of
information which we seek, before we have entered on the needful
investigations, and before one could form the least conception of its
utility, even though it were placed before our eyes. But there is one
advantage in such transcendental inquiries which can be made
comprehensible to the dullest and most reluctant learner—this, namely,
that the understanding which is occupied merely with empirical
exercise, and does not reflect on the sources of its own cognition, may
exercise its functions very well and very successfully, but is quite
unable to do one thing, and that of very great importance, to
determine, namely, the bounds that limit its employment, and to know
what lies within or without its own sphere. This purpose can be
obtained only by such profound investigations as we have instituted.
But if it cannot distinguish whether certain questions lie within its
horizon or not, it can never be sure either as to its claims or
possessions, but must lay its account with many humiliating
corrections, when it transgresses, as it unavoidably will, the limits
of its own territory, and loses itself in fanciful opinions and
blinding illusions.
That the understanding, therefore, cannot make of its à priori
principles, or even of its conceptions, other than an empirical use, is
a proposition which leads to the most important results. A
transcendental use is made of a conception in a fundamental proposition
or principle, when it is referred to things in general and considered
as things in themselves; an empirical use, when it is referred merely
to phenomena, that is, to objects of a possible experience. That the
latter use of a conception is the only admissible one is evident from
the reasons following. For every conception are requisite, firstly, the
logical form of a conception (of thought) general; and, secondly, the
possibility of presenting to this an object to which it may apply.
Failing this latter, it has no sense, and utterly void of content,
although it may contain the logical function for constructing a
conception from certain data. Now, object cannot be given to a
conception otherwise than by intuition, and, even if a pure intuition
antecedent to the object is à priori possible, this pure intuition can
itself obtain objective validity only from empirical intuition, of
which it is itself but the form. All conceptions, therefore, and with
them all principles, however high the degree of their à priori
possibility, relate to empirical intuitions, that is, to data towards a
possible experience. Without this they possess no objective validity,
but are mere play of imagination or of understanding with images or
notions. Let us take, for example, the conceptions of mathematics, and
first in its pure intuitions. “Space has three dimensions”—“Between two
points there can be only one straight line,” etc. Although all these
principles, and the representation of the object with which this
science occupies itself, are generated in the mind entirely à priori,
they would nevertheless have no significance if we were not always able
to exhibit their significance in and by means of phenomena (empirical
objects). Hence it is requisite that an abstract conception be made
sensuous, that is, that an object corresponding to it in intuition be
forthcoming, otherwise the conception remains, as we say, without
sense, that is, without meaning. Mathematics fulfils this requirement
by the construction of the figure, which is a phenomenon evident to the
senses. The same science finds support and significance in number; this
in its turn finds it in the fingers, or in counters, or in lines and
points. The conception itself is always produced à priori, together
with the synthetical principles or formulas from such conceptions; but
the proper employment of them, and their application to objects, can
exist nowhere but in experience, the possibility of which, as regards
its form, they contain à priori.
That this is also the case with all of the categories and the
principles based upon them is evident from the fact that we cannot
render intelligible the possibility of an object corresponding to them
without having recourse to the conditions of sensibility, consequently,
to the form of phenomena, to which, as their only proper objects, their
use must therefore be confined, inasmuch as, if this condition is
removed, all significance, that is, all relation to an object,
disappears, and no example can be found to make it comprehensible what
sort of things we ought to think under such conceptions.
The conception of quantity cannot be explained except by saying that it
is the determination of a thing whereby it can be cogitated how many
times one is placed in it. But this “how many times” is based upon
successive repetition, consequently upon time and the synthesis of the
homogeneous therein. Reality, in contradistinction to negation, can be
explained only by cogitating a time which is either filled therewith or
is void. If I leave out the notion of permanence (which is existence in
all time), there remains in the conception of substance nothing but the
logical notion of subject, a notion of which I endeavour to realize by
representing to myself something that can exist only as a subject. But
not only am I perfectly ignorant of any conditions under which this
logical prerogative can belong to a thing, I can make nothing out of
the notion, and draw no inference from it, because no object to which
to apply the conception is determined, and we consequently do not know
whether it has any meaning at all. In like manner, if I leave out the
notion of time, in which something follows upon some other thing in
conformity with a rule, I can find nothing in the pure category, except
that there is a something of such a sort that from it a conclusion may
be drawn as to the existence of some other thing. But in this case it
would not only be impossible to distinguish between a cause and an
effect, but, as this power to draw conclusions requires conditions of
which I am quite ignorant, the conception is not determined as to the
mode in which it ought to apply to an object. The so-called principle:
“Everything that is contingent has a cause,” comes with a gravity and
self-assumed authority that seems to require no support from without.
But, I ask, what is meant by contingent? The answer is that the
non-existence of which is possible. But I should like very well to know
by what means this possibility of non-existence is to be cognized, if
we do not represent to ourselves a succession in the series of
phenomena, and in this succession an existence which follows a
non-existence, or conversely, consequently, change. For to say, that
the non-existence of a thing is not self-contradictory is a lame appeal
to a logical condition, which is no doubt a necessary condition of the
existence of the conception, but is far from being sufficient for the
real objective possibility of non-existence. I can annihilate in
thought every existing substance without self-contradiction, but I
cannot infer from this their objective contingency in existence, that
is to say, the possibility of their non-existence in itself. As regards
the category of community, it may easily be inferred that, as the pure
categories of substance and causality are incapable of a definition and
explanation sufficient to determine their object without the aid of
intuition, the category of reciprocal causality in the relation of
substances to each other (commercium) is just as little susceptible
thereof. Possibility, existence, and necessity nobody has ever yet been
able to explain without being guilty of manifest tautology, when the
definition has been drawn entirely from the pure understanding. For the
substitution of the logical possibility of the conception—the condition
of which is that it be not self-contradictory, for the transcendental
possibility of things—the condition of which is that there be an object
corresponding to the conception, is a trick which can only deceive the
inexperienced.[38]
[38] In one word, to none of these conceptions belongs a corresponding
object, and consequently their real possibility cannot be
demonstrated, if we take away sensuous intuition—the only intuition
which we possess—and there then remains nothing but the logical
possibility, that is, the fact that the conception or thought is
possible—which, however, is not the question; what we want to know
being, whether it relates to an object and thus possesses any meaning.
It follows incontestably, that the pure conceptions of the
understanding are incapable of transcendental, and must always be of
empirical use alone, and that the principles of the pure understanding
relate only to the general conditions of a possible experience, to
objects of the senses, and never to things in general, apart from the
mode in which we intuite them.
Transcendental analytic has accordingly this important result, to wit,
that the understanding is competent effect nothing à priori, except the
anticipation of the form of a possible experience in general, and that,
as that which is not phenomenon cannot be an object of experience, it
can never overstep the limits of sensibility, within which alone
objects are presented to us. Its principles are merely principles of
the exposition of phenomena, and the proud name of an ontology, which
professes to present synthetical cognitions à priori of things in
general in a systematic doctrine, must give place to the modest title
of analytic of the pure understanding.
Thought is the act of referring a given intuition to an object. If the
mode of this intuition is unknown to us, the object is merely
transcendental, and the conception of the understanding is employed
only transcendentally, that is, to produce unity in the thought of a
manifold in general. Now a pure category, in which all conditions of
sensuous intuition—as the only intuition we possess—are abstracted,
does not determine an object, but merely expresses the thought of an
object in general, according to different modes. Now, to employ a
conception, the function of judgement is required, by which an object
is subsumed under the conception, consequently the at least formal
condition, under which something can be given in intuition. Failing
this condition of judgement (schema), subsumption is impossible; for
there is in such a case nothing given, which may be subsumed under the
conception. The merely transcendental use of the categories is
therefore, in fact, no use at all and has no determined, or even, as
regards its form, determinable object. Hence it follows that the pure
category is incompetent to establish a synthetical à priori principle,
and that the principles of the pure understanding are only of empirical
and never of transcendental use, and that beyond the sphere of possible
experience no synthetical à priori principles are possible.
It may be advisable, therefore, to express ourselves thus. The pure
categories, apart from the formal conditions of sensibility, have a
merely transcendental meaning, but are nevertheless not of
transcendental use, because this is in itself impossible, inasmuch as
all the conditions of any employment or use of them (in judgements) are
absent, to wit, the formal conditions of the subsumption of an object
under these conceptions. As, therefore, in the character of pure
categories, they must be employed empirically, and cannot be employed
transcendentally, they are of no use at all, when separated from
sensibility, that is, they cannot be applied to an object. They are
merely the pure form of the employment of the understanding in respect
of objects in general and of thought, without its being at the same
time possible to think or to determine any object by their means. But
there lurks at the foundation of this subject an illusion which it is
very difficult to avoid. The categories are not based, as regards their
origin, upon sensibility, like the forms of intuition, space, and time;
they seem, therefore, to be capable of an application beyond the sphere
of sensuous objects. But this is not the case. They are nothing but
mere forms of thought, which contain only the logical faculty of
uniting à priori in consciousness the manifold given in intuition.
Apart, then, from the only intuition possible for us, they have still
less meaning than the pure sensuous forms, space and time, for through
them an object is at least given, while a mode of connection of the
manifold, when the intuition which alone gives the manifold is wanting,
has no meaning at all. At the same time, when we designate certain
objects as phenomena or sensuous existences, thus distinguishing our
mode of intuiting them from their own nature as things in themselves,
it is evident that by this very distinction we as it were place the
latter, considered in this their own nature, although we do not so
intuite them, in opposition to the former, or, on the other hand, we do
so place other possible things, which are not objects of our senses,
but are cogitated by the understanding alone, and call them
intelligible existences (noumena). Now the question arises whether the
pure conceptions of our understanding do possess significance in
respect of these latter, and may possibly be a mode of cognizing them.
But we are met at the very commencement with an ambiguity, which may
easily occasion great misapprehension. The understanding, when it terms
an object in a certain relation phenomenon, at the same time forms out
of this relation a representation or notion of an object in itself, and
hence believes that it can form also conceptions of such objects. Now
as the understanding possesses no other fundamental conceptions besides
the categories, it takes for granted that an object considered as a
thing in itself must be capable of being thought by means of these pure
conceptions, and is thereby led to hold the perfectly undetermined
conception of an intelligible existence, a something out of the sphere
of our sensibility, for a determinate conception of an existence which
we can cognize in some way or other by means of the understanding.
If, by the term noumenon, we understand a thing so far as it is not an
object of our sensuous intuition, thus making abstraction of our mode
of intuiting it, this is a noumenon in the negative sense of the word.
But if we understand by it an object of a non-sensuous intuition, we in
this case assume a peculiar mode of intuition, an intellectual
intuition, to wit, which does not, however, belong to us, of the very
possibility of which we have no notion—and this is a noumenon in the
positive sense.
The doctrine of sensibility is also the doctrine of noumena in the
negative sense, that is, of things which the understanding is obliged
to cogitate apart from any relation to our mode of intuition,
consequently not as mere phenomena, but as things in themselves. But
the understanding at the same time comprehends that it cannot employ
its categories for the consideration of things in themselves, because
these possess significance only in relation to the unity of intuitions
in space and time, and that they are competent to determine this unity
by means of general à priori connecting conceptions only on account of
the pure ideality of space and time. Where this unity of time is not to
be met with, as is the case with noumena, the whole use, indeed the
whole meaning of the categories is entirely lost, for even the
possibility of things to correspond to the categories is in this case
incomprehensible. On this point, I need only refer the reader to what I
have said at the commencement of the General Remark appended to the
foregoing chapter. Now, the possibility of a thing can never be proved
from the fact that the conception of it is not self-contradictory, but
only by means of an intuition corresponding to the conception. If,
therefore, we wish to apply the categories to objects which cannot be
regarded as phenomena, we must have an intuition different from the
sensuous, and in this case the objects would be a noumena in the
positive sense of the word. Now, as such an intuition, that is, an
intellectual intuition, is no part of our faculty of cognition, it is
absolutely impossible for the categories to possess any application
beyond the limits of experience. It may be true that there are
intelligible existences to which our faculty of sensuous intuition has
no relation, and cannot be applied, but our conceptions of the
understanding, as mere forms of thought for our sensuous intuition, do
not extend to these. What, therefore, we call noumenon must be
understood by us as such in a negative sense.
If I take away from an empirical intuition all thought (by means of the
categories), there remains no cognition of any object; for by means of
mere intuition nothing is cogitated, and, from the existence of such or
such an affection of sensibility in me, it does not follow that this
affection or representation has any relation to an object without me.
But if I take away all intuition, there still remains the form of
thought, that is, the mode of determining an object for the manifold of
a possible intuition. Thus the categories do in some measure really
extend further than sensuous intuition, inasmuch as they think objects
in general, without regard to the mode (of sensibility) in which these
objects are given. But they do not for this reason apply to and
determine a wider sphere of objects, because we cannot assume that such
can be given, without presupposing the possibility of another than the
sensuous mode of intuition, a supposition we are not justified in
making.
I call a conception problematical which contains in itself no
contradiction, and which is connected with other cognitions as a
limitation of given conceptions, but whose objective reality cannot be
cognized in any manner. The conception of a noumenon, that is, of a
thing which must be cogitated not as an object of sense, but as a thing
in itself (solely through the pure understanding), is not
self-contradictory, for we are not entitled to maintain that
sensibility is the only possible mode of intuition. Nay, further, this
conception is necessary to restrain sensuous intuition within the
bounds of phenomena, and thus to limit the objective validity of
sensuous cognition; for things in themselves, which lie beyond its
province, are called noumena for the very purpose of indicating that
this cognition does not extend its application to all that the
understanding thinks. But, after all, the possibility of such noumena
is quite incomprehensible, and beyond the sphere of phenomena, all is
for us a mere void; that is to say, we possess an understanding whose
province does problematically extend beyond this sphere, but we do not
possess an intuition, indeed, not even the conception of a possible
intuition, by means of which objects beyond the region of sensibility
could be given us, and in reference to which the understanding might be
employed assertorically. The conception of a noumenon is therefore
merely a limitative conception and therefore only of negative use. But
it is not an arbitrary or fictitious notion, but is connected with the
limitation of sensibility, without, however, being capable of
presenting us with any positive datum beyond this sphere.
The division of objects into phenomena and noumena, and of the world
into a mundus sensibilis and intelligibilis is therefore quite
inadmissible in a positive sense, although conceptions do certainly
admit of such a division; for the class of noumena have no determinate
object corresponding to them, and cannot therefore possess objective
validity. If we abandon the senses, how can it be made conceivable that
the categories (which are the only conceptions that could serve as
conceptions for noumena) have any sense or meaning at all, inasmuch as
something more than the mere unity of thought, namely, a possible
intuition, is requisite for their application to an object? The
conception of a noumenon, considered as merely problematical, is,
however, not only admissible, but, as a limitative conception of
sensibility, absolutely necessary. But, in this case, a noumenon is not
a particular intelligible object for our understanding; on the
contrary, the kind of understanding to which it could belong is itself
a problem, for we cannot form the most distant conception of the
possibility of an understanding which should cognize an object, not
discursively by means of categories, but intuitively in a non-sensuous
intuition. Our understanding attains in this way a sort of negative
extension. That is to say, it is not limited by, but rather limits,
sensibility, by giving the name of noumena to things, not considered as
phenomena, but as things in themselves. But it at the same time
prescribes limits to itself, for it confesses itself unable to cognize
these by means of the categories, and hence is compelled to cogitate
them merely as an unknown something.
I find, however, in the writings of modern authors, an entirely
different use of the expressions, mundus sensibilis and intelligibilis,
which quite departs from the meaning of the ancients—an acceptation in
which, indeed, there is to be found no difficulty, but which at the
same time depends on mere verbal quibbling. According to this meaning,
some have chosen to call the complex of phenomena, in so far as it is
intuited, mundus sensibilis, but in so far as the connection thereof is
cogitated according to general laws of thought, mundus intelligibilis.
Astronomy, in so far as we mean by the word the mere observation of the
starry heaven, may represent the former; a system of astronomy, such as
the Copernican or Newtonian, the latter. But such twisting of words is
a mere sophistical subterfuge, to avoid a difficult question, by
modifying its meaning to suit our own convenience. To be sure,
understanding and reason are employed in the cognition of phenomena;
but the question is, whether these can be applied when the object is
not a phenomenon and in this sense we regard it if it is cogitated as
given to the understanding alone, and not to the senses. The question
therefore is whether, over and above the empirical use of the
understanding, a transcendental use is possible, which applies to the
noumenon as an object. This question we have answered in the negative.
When therefore we say, the senses represent objects as they appear, the
understanding as they are, the latter statement must not be understood
in a transcendental, but only in an empirical signification, that is,
as they must be represented in the complete connection of phenomena,
and not according to what they may be, apart from their relation to
possible experience, consequently not as objects of the pure
understanding. For this must ever remain unknown to us. Nay, it is also
quite unknown to us whether any such transcendental or extraordinary
cognition is possible under any circumstances, at least, whether it is
possible by means of our categories. Understanding and sensibility,
with us, can determine objects only in conjunction. If we separate
them, we have intuitions without conceptions, or conceptions without
intuitions; in both cases, representations, which we cannot apply to
any determinate object.
If, after all our inquiries and explanations, any one still hesitates
to abandon the mere transcendental use of the categories, let him
attempt to construct with them a synthetical proposition. It would, of
course, be unnecessary for this purpose to construct an analytical
proposition, for that does not extend the sphere of the understanding,
but, being concerned only about what is cogitated in the conception
itself, it leaves it quite undecided whether the conception has any
relation to objects, or merely indicates the unity of thought—complete
abstraction being made of the modi in which an object may be given: in
such a proposition, it is sufficient for the understanding to know what
lies in the conception—to what it applies is to it indifferent. The
attempt must therefore be made with a synthetical and so-called
transcendental principle, for example: “Everything that exists, exists
as substance,” or, “Everything that is contingent exists as an effect
of some other thing, viz., of its cause.” Now I ask, whence can the
understanding draw these synthetical propositions, when the conceptions
contained therein do not relate to possible experience but to things in
themselves (noumena)? Where is to be found the third term, which is
always requisite PURE site in a synthetical proposition, which may
connect in the same proposition conceptions which have no logical
(analytical) connection with each other? The proposition never will be
demonstrated, nay, more, the possibility of any such pure assertion
never can be shown, without making reference to the empirical use of
the understanding, and thus, ipso facto, completely renouncing pure and
non-sensuous judgement. Thus the conception of pure and merely
intelligible objects is completely void of all principles of its
application, because we cannot imagine any mode in which they might be
given, and the problematical thought which leaves a place open for them
serves only, like a void space, to limit the use of empirical
principles, without containing at the same time any other object of
cognition beyond their sphere.
APPENDIX
Of the Equivocal Nature or Amphiboly of the Conceptions of Reflection
from the Confusion of the Transcendental with the Empirical use of the
Understanding.
Reflection (reflexio) is not occupied about objects themselves, for the
purpose of directly obtaining conceptions of them, but is that state of
the mind in which we set ourselves to discover the subjective
conditions under which we obtain conceptions. It is the consciousness
of the relation of given representations to the different sources or
faculties of cognition, by which alone their relation to each other can
be rightly determined. The first question which occurs in considering
our representations is to what faculty of cognition do they belong? To
the understanding or to the senses? Many judgements are admitted to be
true from mere habit or inclination; but, because reflection neither
precedes nor follows, it is held to be a judgement that has its origin
in the understanding. All judgements do not require examination, that
is, investigation into the grounds of their truth. For, when they are
immediately certain (for example: “Between two points there can be only
one straight line”), no better or less mediate test of their truth can
be found than that which they themselves contain and express. But all
judgement, nay, all comparisons require reflection, that is, a
distinction of the faculty of cognition to which the given conceptions
belong. The act whereby I compare my representations with the faculty
of cognition which originates them, and whereby I distinguish whether
they are compared with each other as belonging to the pure
understanding or to sensuous intuition, I term transcendental
reflection. Now, the relations in which conceptions can stand to each
other are those of identity and difference, agreement and opposition,
of the internal and external, finally, of the determinable and the
determining (matter and form). The proper determination of these
relations rests on the question, to what faculty of cognition they
subjectively belong, whether to sensibility or understanding? For, on
the manner in which we solve this question depends the manner in which
we must cogitate these relations.
Before constructing any objective judgement, we compare the conceptions
that are to be placed in the judgement, and observe whether there
exists identity (of many representations in one conception), if a
general judgement is to be constructed, or difference, if a particular;
whether there is agreement when affirmative; and opposition when
negative judgements are to be constructed, and so on. For this reason
we ought to call these conceptions, conceptions of comparison
(conceptus comparationis). But as, when the question is not as to the
logical form, but as to the content of conceptions, that is to say,
whether the things themselves are identical or different, in agreement
or opposition, and so on, the things can have a twofold relation to our
faculty of cognition, to wit, a relation either to sensibility or to
the understanding, and as on this relation depends their relation to
each other, transcendental reflection, that is, the relation of given
representations to one or the other faculty of cognition, can alone
determine this latter relation. Thus we shall not be able to discover
whether the things are identical or different, in agreement or
opposition, etc., from the mere conception of the things by means of
comparison (comparatio), but only by distinguishing the mode of
cognition to which they belong, in other words, by means of
transcendental reflection. We may, therefore, with justice say, that
logical reflection is mere comparison, for in it no account is taken of
the faculty of cognition to which the given conceptions belong, and
they are consequently, as far as regards their origin, to be treated as
homogeneous; while transcendental reflection (which applies to the
objects themselves) contains the ground of the possibility of objective
comparison of representations with each other, and is therefore very
different from the former, because the faculties of cognition to which
they belong are not even the same. Transcendental reflection is a duty
which no one can neglect who wishes to establish an à priori judgement
upon things. We shall now proceed to fulfil this duty, and thereby
throw not a little light on the question as to the determination of the
proper business of the understanding.
1. Identity and Difference. When an object is presented to us several
times, but always with the same internal determinations (qualitas et
quantitas), it, if an object of pure understanding, is always the same,
not several things, but only one thing (numerica identitas); but if a
phenomenon, we do not concern ourselves with comparing the conception
of the thing with the conception of some other, but, although they may
be in this respect perfectly the same, the difference of place at the
same time is a sufficient ground for asserting the numerical difference
of these objects (of sense). Thus, in the case of two drops of water,
we may make complete abstraction of all internal difference (quality
and quantity), and, the fact that they are intuited at the same time in
different places, is sufficient to justify us in holding them to be
numerically different. Leibnitz regarded phenomena as things in
themselves, consequently as intelligibilia, that is, objects of pure
understanding (although, on account of the confused nature of their
representations, he gave them the name of phenomena), and in this case
his principle of the indiscernible (principium identatis
indiscernibilium) is not to be impugned. But, as phenomena are objects
of sensibility, and, as the understanding, in respect of them, must be
employed empirically and not purely or transcendentally, plurality and
numerical difference are given by space itself as the condition of
external phenomena. For one part of space, although it may be perfectly
similar and equal to another part, is still without it, and for this
reason alone is different from the latter, which is added to it in
order to make up a greater space. It follows that this must hold good
of all things that are in the different parts of space at the same
time, however similar and equal one may be to another.
2. Agreement and Opposition. When reality is represented by the pure
understanding (realitas noumenon), opposition between realities is
incogitable—such a relation, that is, that when these realities are
connected in one subject, they annihilate the effects of each other and
may be represented in the formula 3 -3 = 0. On the other hand, the real
in a phenomenon (realitas phaenomenon) may very well be in mutual
opposition, and, when united in the same subject, the one may
completely or in part annihilate the effect or consequence of the
other; as in the case of two moving forces in the same straight line
drawing or impelling a point in opposite directions, or in the case of
a pleasure counterbalancing a certain amount of pain.
3. The Internal and External. In an object of the pure understanding,
only that is internal which has no relation (as regards its existence)
to anything different from itself. On the other hand, the internal
determinations of a substantia phaenomenon in space are nothing but
relations, and it is itself nothing more than a complex of mere
relations. Substance in space we are cognizant of only through forces
operative in it, either drawing others towards itself (attraction), or
preventing others from forcing into itself (repulsion and
impenetrability). We know no other properties that make up the
conception of substance phenomenal in space, and which we term matter.
On the other hand, as an object of the pure understanding, every
substance must have internal determination and forces. But what other
internal attributes of such an object can I think than those which my
internal sense presents to me? That, to wit, which in either itself
thought, or something analogous to it. Hence Leibnitz, who looked upon
things as noumena, after denying them everything like external
relation, and therefore also composition or combination, declared that
all substances, even the component parts of matter, were simple
substances with powers of representation, in one word, monads.
4. Matter and Form. These two conceptions lie at the foundation of all
other reflection, so inseparably are they connected with every mode of
exercising the understanding. The former denotes the determinable in
general, the second its determination, both in a transcendental sense,
abstraction being made of every difference in that which is given, and
of the mode in which it is determined. Logicians formerly termed the
universal, matter, the specific difference of this or that part of the
universal, form. In a judgement one may call the given conceptions
logical matter (for the judgement), the relation of these to each other
(by means of the copula), the form of the judgement. In an object, the
composite parts thereof (essentialia) are the matter; the mode in which
they are connected in the object, the form. In respect to things in
general, unlimited reality was regarded as the matter of all
possibility, the limitation thereof (negation) as the form, by which
one thing is distinguished from another according to transcendental
conceptions. The understanding demands that something be given (at
least in the conception), in order to be able to determine it in a
certain manner. Hence, in a conception of the pure understanding, the
matter precedes the form, and for this reason Leibnitz first assumed
the existence of things (monads) and of an internal power of
representation in them, in order to found upon this their external
relation and the community their state (that is, of their
representations). Hence, with him, space and time were possible—the
former through the relation of substances, the latter through the
connection of their determinations with each other, as causes and
effects. And so would it really be, if the pure understanding were
capable of an immediate application to objects, and if space and time
were determinations of things in themselves. But being merely sensuous
intuitions, in which we determine all objects solely as phenomena, the
form of intuition (as a subjective property of sensibility) must
antecede all matter (sensations), consequently space and time must
antecede all phenomena and all data of experience, and rather make
experience itself possible. But the intellectual philosopher could not
endure that the form should precede the things themselves and determine
their possibility; an objection perfectly correct, if we assume that we
intuite things as they are, although with confused representation. But
as sensuous intuition is a peculiar subjective condition, which is à
priori at the foundation of all perception, and the form of which is
primitive, the form must be given per se, and so far from matter (or
the things themselves which appear) lying at the foundation of
experience (as we must conclude, if we judge by mere conceptions), the
very possibility of itself presupposes, on the contrary, a given formal
intuition (space and time).
REMARK ON THE AMPHIBOLY OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF REFLECTION.
Let me be allowed to term the position which we assign to a conception
either in the sensibility or in the pure understanding, the
transcendental place. In this manner, the appointment of the position
which must be taken by each conception according to the difference in
its use, and the directions for determining this place to all
conceptions according to rules, would be a transcendental topic, a
doctrine which would thoroughly shield us from the surreptitious
devices of the pure understanding and the delusions which thence arise,
as it would always distinguish to what faculty of cognition each
conception properly belonged. Every conception, every title, under
which many cognitions rank together, may be called a logical place.
Upon this is based the logical topic of Aristotle, of which teachers
and rhetoricians could avail themselves, in order, under certain titles
of thought, to observe what would best suit the matter they had to
treat, and thus enable themselves to quibble and talk with fluency and
an appearance of profundity.
Transcendental topic, on the contrary, contains nothing more than the
above-mentioned four titles of all comparison and distinction, which
differ from categories in this respect, that they do not represent the
object according to that which constitutes its conception (quantity,
reality), but set forth merely the comparison of representations, which
precedes our conceptions of things. But this comparison requires a
previous reflection, that is, a determination of the place to which the
representations of the things which are compared belong, whether, to
wit, they are cogitated by the pure understanding, or given by
sensibility.
Conceptions may be logically compared without the trouble of inquiring
to what faculty their objects belong, whether as noumena, to the
understanding, or as phenomena, to sensibility. If, however, we wish to
employ these conceptions in respect of objects, previous transcendental
reflection is necessary. Without this reflection I should make a very
unsafe use of these conceptions, and construct pretended synthetical
propositions which critical reason cannot acknowledge and which are
based solely upon a transcendental amphiboly, that is, upon a
substitution of an object of pure understanding for a phenomenon.
For want of this doctrine of transcendental topic, and consequently
deceived by the amphiboly of the conceptions of reflection, the
celebrated Leibnitz constructed an intellectual system of the world, or
rather, believed himself competent to cognize the internal nature of
things, by comparing all objects merely with the understanding and the
abstract formal conceptions of thought. Our table of the conceptions of
reflection gives us the unexpected advantage of being able to exhibit
the distinctive peculiarities of his system in all its parts, and at
the same time of exposing the fundamental principle of this peculiar
mode of thought, which rested upon naught but a misconception. He
compared all things with each other merely by means of conceptions, and
naturally found no other differences than those by which the
understanding distinguishes its pure conceptions one from another. The
conditions of sensuous intuition, which contain in themselves their own
means of distinction, he did not look upon as primitive, because
sensibility was to him but a confused mode of representation and not
any particular source of representations. A phenomenon was for him the
representation of the thing in itself, although distinguished from
cognition by the understanding only in respect of the logical form—the
former with its usual want of analysis containing, according to him, a
certain mixture of collateral representations in its conception of a
thing, which it is the duty of the understanding to separate and
distinguish. In one word, Leibnitz intellectualized phenomena, just as
Locke, in his system of noogony (if I may be allowed to make use of
such expressions), sensualized the conceptions of the understanding,
that is to say, declared them to be nothing more than empirical or
abstract conceptions of reflection. Instead of seeking in the
understanding and sensibility two different sources of representations,
which, however, can present us with objective judgements of things only
in conjunction, each of these great men recognized but one of these
faculties, which, in their opinion, applied immediately to things in
themselves, the other having no duty but that of confusing or arranging
the representations of the former.
Accordingly, the objects of sense were compared by Leibnitz as things
in general merely in the understanding.
1st. He compares them in regard to their identity or difference—as
judged by the understanding. As, therefore, he considered merely the
conceptions of objects, and not their position in intuition, in which
alone objects can be given, and left quite out of sight the
transcendental locale of these conceptions—whether, that is, their
object ought to be classed among phenomena, or among things in
themselves, it was to be expected that he should extend the application
of the principle of indiscernibles, which is valid solely of
conceptions of things in general, to objects of sense (mundus
phaenomenon), and that he should believe that he had thereby
contributed in no small degree to extend our knowledge of nature. In
truth, if I cognize in all its inner determinations a drop of water as
a thing in itself, I cannot look upon one drop as different from
another, if the conception of the one is completely identical with that
of the other. But if it is a phenomenon in space, it has a place not
merely in the understanding (among conceptions), but also in sensuous
external intuition (in space), and in this case, the physical locale is
a matter of indifference in regard to the internal determinations of
things, and one place, B, may contain a thing which is perfectly
similar and equal to another in a place, A, just as well as if the two
things were in every respect different from each other. Difference of
place without any other conditions, makes the plurality and distinction
of objects as phenomena, not only possible in itself, but even
necessary. Consequently, the above so-called law is not a law of
nature. It is merely an analytical rule for the comparison of things by
means of mere conceptions.
2nd. The principle: “Realities (as simple affirmations) never logically
contradict each other,” is a proposition perfectly true respecting the
relation of conceptions, but, whether as regards nature, or things in
themselves (of which we have not the slightest conception), is without
any the least meaning. For real opposition, in which A -B is = 0,
exists everywhere, an opposition, that is, in which one reality united
with another in the same subject annihilates the effects of the other—a
fact which is constantly brought before our eyes by the different
antagonistic actions and operations in nature, which, nevertheless, as
depending on real forces, must be called realitates phaenomena. General
mechanics can even present us with the empirical condition of this
opposition in an à priori rule, as it directs its attention to the
opposition in the direction of forces—a condition of which the
transcendental conception of reality can tell us nothing. Although M.
Leibnitz did not announce this proposition with precisely the pomp of a
new principle, he yet employed it for the establishment of new
propositions, and his followers introduced it into their
Leibnitzio-Wolfian system of philosophy. According to this principle,
for example, all evils are but consequences of the limited nature of
created beings, that is, negations, because these are the only opposite
of reality. (In the mere conception of a thing in general this is
really the case, but not in things as phenomena.) In like manner, the
upholders of this system deem it not only possible, but natural also,
to connect and unite all reality in one being, because they acknowledge
no other sort of opposition than that of contradiction (by which the
conception itself of a thing is annihilated), and find themselves
unable to conceive an opposition of reciprocal destruction, so to
speak, in which one real cause destroys the effect of another, and the
conditions of whose representation we meet with only in sensibility.
3rd. The Leibnitzian monadology has really no better foundation than on
this philosopher’s mode of falsely representing the difference of the
internal and external solely in relation to the understanding.
Substances, in general, must have something inward, which is therefore
free from external relations, consequently from that of composition
also. The simple—that which can be represented by a unit—is therefore
the foundation of that which is internal in things in themselves. The
internal state of substances cannot therefore consist in place, shape,
contact, or motion, determinations which are all external relations,
and we can ascribe to them no other than that whereby we internally
determine our faculty of sense itself, that is to say, the state of
representation. Thus, then, were constructed the monads, which were to
form the elements of the universe, the active force of which consists
in representation, the effects of this force being thus entirely
confined to themselves.
For the same reason, his view of the possible community of substances
could not represent it but as a predetermined harmony, and by no means
as a physical influence. For inasmuch as everything is occupied only
internally, that is, with its own representations, the state of the
representations of one substance could not stand in active and living
connection with that of another, but some third cause operating on all
without exception was necessary to make the different states correspond
with one another. And this did not happen by means of assistance
applied in each particular case (systema assistentiae), but through the
unity of the idea of a cause occupied and connected with all
substances, in which they necessarily receive, according to the
Leibnitzian school, their existence and permanence, consequently also
reciprocal correspondence, according to universal laws.
4th. This philosopher’s celebrated doctrine of space and time, in which
he intellectualized these forms of sensibility, originated in the same
delusion of transcendental reflection. If I attempt to represent by the
mere understanding, the external relations of things, I can do so only
by employing the conception of their reciprocal action, and if I wish
to connect one state of the same thing with another state, I must avail
myself of the notion of the order of cause and effect. And thus
Leibnitz regarded space as a certain order in the community of
substances, and time as the dynamical sequence of their states. That
which space and time possess proper to themselves and independent of
things, he ascribed to a necessary confusion in our conceptions of
them, whereby that which is a mere form of dynamical relations is held
to be a self-existent intuition, antecedent even to things themselves.
Thus space and time were the intelligible form of the connection of
things (substances and their states) in themselves. But things were
intelligible substances (substantiae noumena). At the same time, he
made these conceptions valid of phenomena, because he did not allow to
sensibility a peculiar mode of intuition, but sought all, even the
empirical representation of objects, in the understanding, and left to
sense naught but the despicable task of confusing and disarranging the
representations of the former.
But even if we could frame any synthetical proposition concerning
things in themselves by means of the pure understanding (which is
impossible), it could not apply to phenomena, which do not represent
things in themselves. In such a case I should be obliged in
transcendental reflection to compare my conceptions only under the
conditions of sensibility, and so space and time would not be
determinations of things in themselves, but of phenomena. What things
may be in themselves, I know not and need not know, because a thing is
never presented to me otherwise than as a phenomenon.
I must adopt the same mode of procedure with the other conceptions of
reflection. Matter is substantia phaenomenon. That in it which is
internal I seek to discover in all parts of space which it occupies,
and in all the functions and operations it performs, and which are
indeed never anything but phenomena of the external sense. I cannot
therefore find anything that is absolutely, but only what is
comparatively internal, and which itself consists of external
relations. The absolutely internal in matter, and as it should be
according to the pure understanding, is a mere chimera, for matter is
not an object for the pure understanding. But the transcendental
object, which is the foundation of the phenomenon which we call matter,
is a mere nescio quid, the nature of which we could not understand,
even though someone were found able to tell us. For we can understand
nothing that does not bring with it something in intuition
corresponding to the expressions employed. If, by the complaint of
being unable to perceive the internal nature of things, it is meant
that we do not comprehend by the pure understanding what the things
which appear to us may be in themselves, it is a silly and unreasonable
complaint; for those who talk thus really desire that we should be able
to cognize, consequently to intuite, things without senses, and
therefore wish that we possessed a faculty of cognition perfectly
different from the human faculty, not merely in degree, but even as
regards intuition and the mode thereof, so that thus we should not be
men, but belong to a class of beings, the possibility of whose
existence, much less their nature and constitution, we have no means of
cognizing. By observation and analysis of phenomena we penetrate into
the interior of nature, and no one can say what progress this knowledge
may make in time. But those transcendental questions which pass beyond
the limits of nature, we could never answer, even although all nature
were laid open to us, because we have not the power of observing our
own mind with any other intuition than that of our internal sense. For
herein lies the mystery of the origin and source of our faculty of
sensibility. Its application to an object, and the transcendental
ground of this unity of subjective and objective, lie too deeply
concealed for us, who cognize ourselves only through the internal
sense, consequently as phenomena, to be able to discover in our
existence anything but phenomena, the non-sensuous cause of which we at
the same time earnestly desire to penetrate to.
The great utility of this critique of conclusions arrived at by the
processes of mere reflection consists in its clear demonstration of the
nullity of all conclusions respecting objects which are compared with
each other in the understanding alone, while it at the same time
confirms what we particularly insisted on, namely, that, although
phenomena are not included as things in themselves among the objects of
the pure understanding, they are nevertheless the only things by which
our cognition can possess objective reality, that is to say, which give
us intuitions to correspond with our conceptions.
When we reflect in a purely logical manner, we do nothing more than
compare conceptions in our understanding, to discover whether both have
the same content, whether they are self-contradictory or not, whether
anything is contained in either conception, which of the two is given,
and which is merely a mode of thinking that given. But if I apply these
conceptions to an object in general (in the transcendental sense),
without first determining whether it is an object of sensuous or
intellectual intuition, certain limitations present themselves, which
forbid us to pass beyond the conceptions and render all empirical use
of them impossible. And thus these limitations prove that the
representation of an object as a thing in general is not only
insufficient, but, without sensuous determination and independently of
empirical conditions, self-contradictory; that we must therefore make
abstraction of all objects, as in logic, or, admitting them, must think
them under conditions of sensuous intuition; that, consequently, the
intelligible requires an altogether peculiar intuition, which we do not
possess, and in the absence of which it is for us nothing; while, on
the other hand phenomena cannot be objects in themselves. For, when I
merely think things in general, the difference in their external
relations cannot constitute a difference in the things themselves; on
the contrary, the former presupposes the latter, and if the conception
of one of two things is not internally different from that of the
other, I am merely thinking the same thing in different relations.
Further, by the addition of one affirmation (reality) to the other, the
positive therein is really augmented, and nothing is abstracted or
withdrawn from it; hence the real in things cannot be in contradiction
with or opposition to itself—and so on.
The true use of the conceptions of reflection in the employment of the
understanding has, as we have shown, been so misconceived by Leibnitz,
one of the most acute philosophers of either ancient or modern times,
that he has been misled into the construction of a baseless system of
intellectual cognition, which professes to determine its objects
without the intervention of the senses. For this reason, the exposition
of the cause of the amphiboly of these conceptions, as the origin of
these false principles, is of great utility in determining with
certainty the proper limits of the understanding.
It is right to say whatever is affirmed or denied of the whole of a
conception can be affirmed or denied of any part of it (dictum de omni
et nullo); but it would be absurd so to alter this logical proposition
as to say whatever is not contained in a general conception is likewise
not contained in the particular conceptions which rank under it; for
the latter are particular conceptions, for the very reason that their
content is greater than that which is cogitated in the general
conception. And yet the whole intellectual system of Leibnitz is based
upon this false principle, and with it must necessarily fall to the
ground, together with all the ambiguous principles in reference to the
employment of the understanding which have thence originated.
Leibnitz’s principle of the identity of indiscernibles or
indistinguishables is really based on the presupposition that, if in
the conception of a thing a certain distinction is not to be found, it
is also not to be met with in things themselves; that, consequently,
all things are completely identical (numero eadem) which are not
distinguishable from each other (as to quality or quantity) in our
conceptions of them. But, as in the mere conception of anything
abstraction has been made of many necessary conditions of intuition,
that of which abstraction has been made is rashly held to be
non-existent, and nothing is attributed to the thing but what is
contained in its conception.
The conception of a cubic foot of space, however I may think it,
is in itself completely identical. But two cubic feet in space are
nevertheless distinct from each other from the sole fact of their
being in different places (they are numero diversa); and these places
are conditions of intuition, wherein the object of this conception is
given, and which do not belong to the conception, but to the faculty
of sensibility. In like manner, there is in the conception of a thing
no contradiction when a negative is not connected with an affirmative;
and merely affirmative conceptions cannot, in conjunction, produce any
negation. But in sensuous intuition, wherein reality (take for example,
motion) is given, we find conditions (opposite directions)—of which
abstraction has been made in the conception of motion in general—which
render possible a contradiction or opposition (not indeed of a logical
kind)—and which from pure positives produce zero = 0. We are therefore
not justified in saying that all reality is in perfect agreement
and harmony, because no contradiction is discoverable among its
conceptions.[39] According to mere conceptions, that which is internal
is the substratum of all relations or external determinations. When,
therefore, I abstract all conditions of intuition, and confine myself
solely to the conception of a thing in general, I can make abstraction
of all external relations, and there must nevertheless remain a
conception of that which indicates no relation, but merely internal
determinations. Now it seems to follow that in everything (substance)
there is something which is absolutely internal and which antecedes
all external determinations, inasmuch as it renders them possible; and
that therefore this substratum is something which does not contain any
external relations and is consequently simple (for corporeal things
are never anything but relations, at least of their parts external to
each other); and, inasmuch as we know of no other absolutely internal
determinations than those of the internal sense, this substratum is not
only simple, but also, analogously with our internal sense, determined
through representations, that is to say, all things are properly
monads, or simple beings endowed with the power of representation. Now
all this would be perfectly correct, if the conception of a thing were
the only necessary condition of the presentation of objects of external
intuition. It is, on the contrary, manifest that a permanent phenomenon
in space (impenetrable extension) can contain mere relations, and
nothing that is absolutely internal, and yet be the primary substratum
of all external perception. By mere conceptions I cannot think anything
external, without, at the same time, thinking something internal, for
the reason that conceptions of relations presuppose given things,
and without these are impossible. But, as an intuition there is
something (that is, space, which, with all it contains, consists of
purely formal, or, indeed, real relations) which is not found in the
mere conception of a thing in general, and this presents to us the
substratum which could not be cognized through conceptions alone, I
cannot say: because a thing cannot be represented by mere conceptions
without something absolutely internal, there is also, in the things
themselves which are contained under these conceptions, and in their
intuition nothing external to which something absolutely internal does
not serve as the foundation. For, when we have made abstraction of
all the conditions of intuition, there certainly remains in the mere
conception nothing but the internal in general, through which alone
the external is possible. But this necessity, which is grounded upon
abstraction alone, does not obtain in the case of things themselves,
in so far as they are given in intuition with such determinations as
express mere relations, without having anything internal as their
foundation; for they are not things in themselves, but only phenomena.
What we cognize in matter is nothing but relations (what we call its
internal determinations are but comparatively internal). But there are
some self-subsistent and permanent, through which a determined object
is given. That I, when abstraction is made of these relations, have
nothing more to think, does not destroy the conception of a thing as
phenomenon, nor the conception of an object in abstracto, but it does
away with the possibility of an object that is determinable according
to mere conceptions, that is, of a noumenon. It is certainly startling
to hear that a thing consists solely of relations; but this thing is
simply a phenomenon, and cannot be cogitated by means of the mere
categories: it does itself consist in the mere relation of something in
general to the senses. In the same way, we cannot cogitate relations
of things in abstracto, if we commence with conceptions alone, in any
other manner than that one is the cause of determinations in the other;
for that is itself the conception of the understanding or category of
relation. But, as in this case we make abstraction of all intuition, we
lose altogether the mode in which the manifold determines to each of
its parts its place, that is, the form of sensibility (space); and yet
this mode antecedes all empirical causality.
[39] If any one wishes here to have recourse to the usual subterfuge,
and to say, that at least realitates noumena cannot be in opposition
to each other, it will be requisite for him to adduce an example of
this pure and non-sensuous reality, that it may be understood whether
the notion represents something or nothing. But an example cannot be
found except in experience, which never presents to us anything more
than phenomena; and thus the proposition means nothing more than that
the conception which contains only affirmatives does not contain
anything negative—a proposition nobody ever doubted.
If by intelligible objects we understand things which can be thought
by means of the pure categories, without the need of the schemata of
sensibility, such objects are impossible. For the condition of the
objective use of all our conceptions of understanding is the mode of
our sensuous intuition, whereby objects are given; and, if we make
abstraction of the latter, the former can have no relation to an
object. And even if we should suppose a different kind of intuition
from our own, still our functions of thought would have no use or
signification in respect thereof. But if we understand by the term,
objects of a non-sensuous intuition, in respect of which our categories
are not valid, and of which we can accordingly have no knowledge
(neither intuition nor conception), in this merely negative sense
noumena must be admitted. For this is no more than saying that our
mode of intuition is not applicable to all things, but only to objects
of our senses, that consequently its objective validity is limited,
and that room is therefore left for another kind of intuition, and
thus also for things that may be objects of it. But in this sense the
conception of a noumenon is problematical, that is to say, it is the
notion of a thing of which we can neither say that it is possible,
nor that it is impossible, inasmuch as we do not know of any mode of
intuition besides the sensuous, or of any other sort of conceptions
than the categories—a mode of intuition and a kind of conception
neither of which is applicable to a non-sensuous object. We are on this
account incompetent to extend the sphere of our objects of thought
beyond the conditions of our sensibility, and to assume the existence
of objects of pure thought, that is, of noumena, inasmuch as these
have no true positive signification. For it must be confessed of the
categories that they are not of themselves sufficient for the cognition
of things in themselves and, without the data of sensibility, are
mere subjective forms of the unity of the understanding. Thought is
certainly not a product of the senses, and in so far is not limited
by them, but it does not therefore follow that it may be employed
purely and without the intervention of sensibility, for it would then
be without reference to an object. And we cannot call a noumenon
an object of pure thought; for the representation thereof is but
the problematical conception of an object for a perfectly different
intuition and a perfectly different understanding from ours, both of
which are consequently themselves problematical. The conception of a
noumenon is therefore not the conception of an object, but merely a
problematical conception inseparably connected with the limitation
of our sensibility. That is to say, this conception contains the
answer to the question: “Are there objects quite unconnected with,
and independent of, our intuition?”—a question to which only an
indeterminate answer can be given. That answer is: “Inasmuch as
sensuous intuition does not apply to all things without distinction,
there remains room for other and different objects.” The existence of
these problematical objects is therefore not absolutely denied, in the
absence of a determinate conception of them, but, as no category is
valid in respect of them, neither must they be admitted as objects for
our understanding.
Understanding accordingly limits sensibility, without at the same time
enlarging its own field. While, moreover, it forbids sensibility to
apply its forms and modes to things in themselves and restricts it to
the sphere of phenomena, it cogitates an object in itself, only,
however, as a transcendental object, which is the cause of a phenomenon
(consequently not itself a phenomenon), and which cannot be thought
either as a quantity or as reality, or as substance (because these
conceptions always require sensuous forms in which to determine an
object)—an object, therefore, of which we are quite unable to say
whether it can be met with in ourselves or out of us, whether it would
be annihilated together with sensibility, or, if this were taken away,
would continue to exist. If we wish to call this object a noumenon,
because the representation of it is non-sensuous, we are at liberty to
do so. But as we can apply to it none of the conceptions of our
understanding, the representation is for us quite void, and is
available only for the indication of the limits of our sensuous
intuition, thereby leaving at the same time an empty space, which we
are competent to fill by the aid neither of possible experience, nor of
the pure understanding.
The critique of the pure understanding, accordingly, does not permit us
to create for ourselves a new field of objects beyond those which are
presented to us as phenomena, and to stray into intelligible worlds;
nay, it does not even allow us to endeavour to form so much as a
conception of them. The specious error which leads to this—and which is
a perfectly excusable one—lies in the fact that the employment of the
understanding, contrary to its proper purpose and destination, is made
transcendental, and objects, that is, possible intuitions, are made to
regulate themselves according to conceptions, instead of the
conceptions arranging themselves according to the intuitions, on which
alone their own objective validity rests. Now the reason of this again
is that apperception, and with it thought, antecedes all possible
determinate arrangement of representations. Accordingly we think
something in general and determine it on the one hand sensuously, but,
on the other, distinguish the general and in abstracto represented
object from this particular mode of intuiting it. In this case there
remains a mode of determining the object by mere thought, which is
really but a logical form without content, which, however, seems to us
to be a mode of the existence of the object in itself (noumenon),
without regard to intuition which is limited to our senses.
Before ending this transcendental analytic, we must make an addition,
which, although in itself of no particular importance, seems to be
necessary to the completeness of the system. The highest conception,
with which a transcendental philosophy commonly begins, is the division
into possible and impossible. But as all division presupposes a divided
conception, a still higher one must exist, and this is the conception
of an object in general—problematically understood and without its
being decided whether it is something or nothing. As the categories are
the only conceptions which apply to objects in general, the
distinguishing of an object, whether it is something or nothing, must
proceed according to the order and direction of the categories.
1. To the categories of quantity, that is, the conceptions of all,
many, and one, the conception which annihilates all, that is, the
conception of none, is opposed. And thus the object of a conception, to
which no intuition can be found to correspond, is = nothing. That is,
it is a conception without an object (ens rationis), like noumena,
which cannot be considered possible in the sphere of reality, though
they must not therefore be held to be impossible—or like certain new
fundamental forces in matter, the existence of which is cogitable
without contradiction, though, as examples from experience are not
forthcoming, they must not be regarded as possible.
2. Reality is something; negation is nothing, that is, a conception of
the absence of an object, as cold, a shadow (nihil privativum).
3. The mere form of intuition, without substance, is in itself no
object, but the merely formal condition of an object (as phenomenon),
as pure space and pure time. These are certainly something, as forms of
intuition, but are not themselves objects which are intuited (ens
imaginarium).
4. The object of a conception which is self-contradictory, is nothing,
because the conception is nothing—is impossible, as a figure composed
of two straight lines (nihil negativum).
The table of this division of the conception of nothing (the
corresponding division of the conception of something does not require
special description) must therefore be arranged as follows:
NOTHING
AS
1
As Empty Conception
without object,
_ens rationis_
2 3
Empty object of Empty intuition
a conception, without object,
_nihil privativum_ _ens imaginarium_
4
Empty object
without conception,
_nihil negativum_
We see that the ens rationis is distinguished from the nihil negativum
or pure nothing by the consideration that the former must not be
reckoned among possibilities, because it is a mere fiction—though not
self-contradictory, while the latter is completely opposed to all
possibility, inasmuch as the conception annihilates itself. Both,
however, are empty conceptions. On the other hand, the nihil privativum
and ens imaginarium are empty data for conceptions. If light be not
given to the senses, we cannot represent to ourselves darkness, and if
extended objects are not perceived, we cannot represent space. Neither
the negation, nor the mere form of intuition can, without something
real, be an object.
SECOND DIVISION—TRANSCENDENTAL LOGIC
TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC.
INTRODUCTION.
I. Of Transcendental Illusory Appearance
We termed dialectic in general a logic of appearance. This does not
signify a doctrine of probability; for probability is truth, only
cognized upon insufficient grounds, and though the information it
gives us is imperfect, it is not therefore deceitful. Hence it must
not be separated from the analytical part of logic. Still less must
phenomenon and appearance be held to be identical. For truth or
illusory appearance does not reside in the object, in so far as it
is intuited, but in the judgement upon the object, in so far as it
is thought. It is, therefore, quite correct to say that the senses
do not err, not because they always judge correctly, but because
they do not judge at all. Hence truth and error, consequently also,
illusory appearance as the cause of error, are only to be found in a
judgement, that is, in the relation of an object to our understanding.
In a cognition which completely harmonizes with the laws of the
understanding, no error can exist. In a representation of the senses—as
not containing any judgement—there is also no error. But no power of
nature can of itself deviate from its own laws. Hence neither the
understanding per se (without the influence of another cause), nor the
senses per se, would fall into error; the former could not, because,
if it acts only according to its own laws, the effect (the judgement)
must necessarily accord with these laws. But in accordance with the
laws of the understanding consists the formal element in all truth. In
the senses there is no judgement—neither a true nor a false one. But,
as we have no source of cognition besides these two, it follows that
error is caused solely by the unobserved influence of the sensibility
upon the understanding. And thus it happens that the subjective grounds
of a judgement blend and are confounded with the objective, and cause
them to deviate from their proper determination,[40] just as a body
in motion would always of itself proceed in a straight line, but if
another impetus gives to it a different direction, it will then start
off into a curvilinear line of motion. To distinguish the peculiar
action of the understanding from the power which mingles with it,
it is necessary to consider an erroneous judgement as the diagonal
between two forces, that determine the judgement in two different
directions, which, as it were, form an angle, and to resolve this
composite operation into the simple ones of the understanding and the
sensibility. In pure à priori judgements this must be done by means of
transcendental reflection, whereby, as has been already shown, each
representation has its place appointed in the corresponding faculty of
cognition, and consequently the influence of the one faculty upon the
other is made apparent.
[40] Sensibility, subjected to the understanding, as the object upon
which the understanding employs its functions, is the source of real
cognitions. But, in so far as it exercises an influence upon the
action of the understanding and determines it to judgement,
sensibility is itself the cause of error.
It is not at present our business to treat of empirical illusory
appearance (for example, optical illusion), which occurs in the
empirical application of otherwise correct rules of the understanding,
and in which the judgement is misled by the influence of imagination.
Our purpose is to speak of transcendental illusory appearance, which
influences principles—that are not even applied to experience, for in
this case we should possess a sure test of their correctness—but which
leads us, in disregard of all the warnings of criticism, completely
beyond the empirical employment of the categories and deludes us with
the chimera of an extension of the sphere of the pure understanding. We
shall term those principles the application of which is confined
entirely within the limits of possible experience, immanent; those, on
the other hand, which transgress these limits, we shall call
transcendent principles. But by these latter I do not understand
principles of the transcendental use or misuse of the categories, which
is in reality a mere fault of the judgement when not under due
restraint from criticism, and therefore not paying sufficient attention
to the limits of the sphere in which the pure understanding is allowed
to exercise its functions; but real principles which exhort us to break
down all those barriers, and to lay claim to a perfectly new field of
cognition, which recognizes no line of demarcation. Thus transcendental
and transcendent are not identical terms. The principles of the pure
understanding, which we have already propounded, ought to be of
empirical and not of transcendental use, that is, they are not
applicable to any object beyond the sphere of experience. A principle
which removes these limits, nay, which authorizes us to overstep them,
is called transcendent. If our criticism can succeed in exposing the
illusion in these pretended principles, those which are limited in
their employment to the sphere of experience may be called, in
opposition to the others, immanent principles of the pure
understanding.
Logical illusion, which consists merely in the imitation of the form of
reason (the illusion in sophistical syllogisms), arises entirely from a
want of due attention to logical rules. So soon as the attention is
awakened to the case before us, this illusion totally disappears.
Transcendental illusion, on the contrary, does not cease to exist, even
after it has been exposed, and its nothingness clearly perceived by
means of transcendental criticism. Take, for example, the illusion in
the proposition: “The world must have a beginning in time.” The cause
of this is as follows. In our reason, subjectively considered as a
faculty of human cognition, there exist fundamental rules and maxims of
its exercise, which have completely the appearance of objective
principles. Now from this cause it happens that the subjective
necessity of a certain connection of our conceptions, is regarded as an
objective necessity of the determination of things in themselves. This
illusion it is impossible to avoid, just as we cannot avoid perceiving
that the sea appears to be higher at a distance than it is near the
shore, because we see the former by means of higher rays than the
latter, or, which is a still stronger case, as even the astronomer
cannot prevent himself from seeing the moon larger at its rising than
some time afterwards, although he is not deceived by this illusion.
Transcendental dialectic will therefore content itself with exposing
the illusory appearance in transcendental judgements, and guarding us
against it; but to make it, as in the case of logical illusion,
entirely disappear and cease to be illusion is utterly beyond its
power. For we have here to do with a natural and unavoidable illusion,
which rests upon subjective principles and imposes these upon us as
objective, while logical dialectic, in the detection of sophisms, has
to do merely with an error in the logical consequence of the
propositions, or with an artificially constructed illusion, in
imitation of the natural error. There is, therefore, a natural and
unavoidable dialectic of pure reason—not that in which the bungler,
from want of the requisite knowledge, involves himself, nor that which
the sophist devises for the purpose of misleading, but that which is an
inseparable adjunct of human reason, and which, even after its
illusions have been exposed, does not cease to deceive, and continually
to lead reason into momentary errors, which it becomes necessary
continually to remove.
II. Of Pure Reason as the Seat of Transcendental Illusory Appearance
A. OF REASON IN GENERAL.
All our knowledge begins with sense, proceeds thence to understanding,
and ends with reason, beyond which nothing higher can be discovered in
the human mind for elaborating the matter of intuition and subjecting
it to the highest unity of thought. At this stage of our inquiry it is
my duty to give an explanation of this, the highest faculty of
cognition, and I confess I find myself here in some difficulty. Of
reason, as of the understanding, there is a merely formal, that is,
logical use, in which it makes abstraction of all content of cognition;
but there is also a real use, inasmuch as it contains in itself the
source of certain conceptions and principles, which it does not borrow
either from the senses or the understanding. The former faculty has
been long defined by logicians as the faculty of mediate conclusion in
contradistinction to immediate conclusions (consequentiae immediatae);
but the nature of the latter, which itself generates conceptions, is
not to be understood from this definition. Now as a division of reason
into a logical and a transcendental faculty presents itself here, it
becomes necessary to seek for a higher conception of this source of
cognition which shall comprehend both conceptions. In this we may
expect, according to the analogy of the conceptions of the
understanding, that the logical conception will give us the key to the
transcendental, and that the table of the functions of the former will
present us with the clue to the conceptions of reason.
In the former part of our transcendental logic, we defined the
understanding to be the faculty of rules; reason may be distinguished
from understanding as the faculty of principles.
The term principle is ambiguous, and commonly signifies merely a
cognition that may be employed as a principle, although it is not in
itself, and as regards its proper origin, entitled to the distinction.
Every general proposition, even if derived from experience by the
process of induction, may serve as the major in a syllogism; but it is
not for that reason a principle. Mathematical axioms (for example,
there can be only one straight line between two points) are general à
priori cognitions, and are therefore rightly denominated principles,
relatively to the cases which can be subsumed under them. But I cannot
for this reason say that I cognize this property of a straight line
from principles—I cognize it only in pure intuition.
Cognition from principles, then, is that cognition in which I cognize
the particular in the general by means of conceptions. Thus every
syllogism is a form of the deduction of a cognition from a principle.
For the major always gives a conception, through which everything that
is subsumed under the condition thereof is cognized according to a
principle. Now as every general cognition may serve as the major in a
syllogism, and the understanding presents us with such general à priori
propositions, they may be termed principles, in respect of their
possible use.
But if we consider these principles of the pure understanding in
relation to their origin, we shall find them to be anything rather than
cognitions from conceptions. For they would not even be possible à
priori, if we could not rely on the assistance of pure intuition (in
mathematics), or on that of the conditions of a possible experience.
That everything that happens has a cause, cannot be concluded from the
general conception of that which happens; on the contrary the principle
of causality instructs us as to the mode of obtaining from that which
happens a determinate empirical conception.
Synthetical cognitions from conceptions the understanding cannot
supply, and they alone are entitled to be called principles. At the
same time, all general propositions may be termed comparative
principles.
It has been a long-cherished wish—that (who knows how late), may one
day, be happily accomplished—that the principles of the endless variety
of civil laws should be investigated and exposed; for in this way alone
can we find the secret of simplifying legislation. But in this case,
laws are nothing more than limitations of our freedom upon conditions
under which it subsists in perfect harmony with itself; they
consequently have for their object that which is completely our own
work, and of which we ourselves may be the cause by means of these
conceptions. But how objects as things in themselves—how the nature of
things is subordinated to principles and is to be determined, according
to conceptions, is a question which it seems well nigh impossible to
answer. Be this, however, as it may—for on this point our investigation
is yet to be made—it is at least manifest from what we have said that
cognition from principles is something very different from cognition by
means of the understanding, which may indeed precede other cognitions
in the form of a principle, but in itself—in so far as it is
synthetical—is neither based upon mere thought, nor contains a general
proposition drawn from conceptions alone.
The understanding may be a faculty for the production of unity of
phenomena by virtue of rules; the reason is a faculty for the
production of unity of rules (of the understanding) under principles.
Reason, therefore, never applies directly to experience, or to any
sensuous object; its object is, on the contrary, the understanding, to
the manifold cognition of which it gives a unity à priori by means of
conceptions—a unity which may be called rational unity, and which is of
a nature very different from that of the unity produced by the
understanding.
The above is the general conception of the faculty of reason, in so far
as it has been possible to make it comprehensible in the absence of
examples. These will be given in the sequel.
B. OF THE LOGICAL USE OF REASON.
A distinction is commonly made between that which is immediately
cognized and that which is inferred or concluded. That in a figure
which is bounded by three straight lines there are three angles, is an
immediate cognition; but that these angles are together equal to two
right angles, is an inference or conclusion. Now, as we are constantly
employing this mode of thought and have thus become quite accustomed to
it, we no longer remark the above distinction, and, as in the case of
the so-called deceptions of sense, consider as immediately perceived,
what has really been inferred. In every reasoning or syllogism, there
is a fundamental proposition, afterwards a second drawn from it, and
finally the conclusion, which connects the truth in the first with the
truth in the second—and that infallibly. If the judgement concluded is
so contained in the first proposition that it can be deduced from it
without the meditation of a third notion, the conclusion is called
immediate (consequentia immediata); I prefer the term conclusion of the
understanding. But if, in addition to the fundamental cognition, a
second judgement is necessary for the production of the conclusion, it
is called a conclusion of the reason. In the proposition: All men are
mortal, are contained the propositions: Some men are mortal, Nothing
that is not mortal is a man, and these are therefore immediate
conclusions from the first. On the other hand, the proposition: all the
learned are mortal, is not contained in the main proposition (for the
conception of a learned man does not occur in it), and it can be
deduced from the main proposition only by means of a mediating
judgement.
In every syllogism I first cogitate a rule (the major) by means of the
understanding. In the next place I subsume a cognition under the
condition of the rule (and this is the minor) by means of the
judgement. And finally I determine my cognition by means of the
predicate of the rule (this is the conclusio), consequently, I
determine it à priori by means of the reason. The relations, therefore,
which the major proposition, as the rule, represents between a
cognition and its condition, constitute the different kinds of
syllogisms. These are just threefold—analogously with all judgements,
in so far as they differ in the mode of expressing the relation of a
cognition in the understanding—namely, categorical, hypothetical, and
disjunctive.
When as often happens, the conclusion is a judgement which may follow
from other given judgements, through which a perfectly different object
is cogitated, I endeavour to discover in the understanding whether the
assertion in this conclusion does not stand under certain conditions
according to a general rule. If I find such a condition, and if the
object mentioned in the conclusion can be subsumed under the given
condition, then this conclusion follows from a rule which is also valid
for other objects of cognition. From this we see that reason endeavours
to subject the great variety of the cognitions of the understanding to
the smallest possible number of principles (general conditions), and
thus to produce in it the highest unity.
C. OF THE PURE USE OF REASON.
Can we isolate reason, and, if so, is it in this case a peculiar source
of conceptions and judgements which spring from it alone, and through
which it can be applied to objects; or is it merely a subordinate
faculty, whose duty it is to give a certain form to given cognitions—a
form which is called logical, and through which the cognitions of the
understanding are subordinated to each other, and lower rules to higher
(those, to wit, whose condition comprises in its sphere the condition
of the others), in so far as this can be done by comparison? This is
the question which we have at present to answer. Manifold variety of
rules and unity of principles is a requirement of reason, for the
purpose of bringing the understanding into complete accordance with
itself, just as understanding subjects the manifold content of
intuition to conceptions, and thereby introduces connection into it.
But this principle prescribes no law to objects, and does not contain
any ground of the possibility of cognizing or of determining them as
such, but is merely a subjective law for the proper arrangement of the
content of the understanding. The purpose of this law is, by a
comparison of the conceptions of the understanding, to reduce them to
the smallest possible number, although, at the same time, it does not
justify us in demanding from objects themselves such a uniformity as
might contribute to the convenience and the enlargement of the sphere
of the understanding, or in expecting that it will itself thus receive
from them objective validity. In one word, the question is: “does
reason in itself, that is, does pure reason contain à priori
synthetical principles and rules, and what are those principles?”
The formal and logical procedure of reason in syllogisms gives us
sufficient information in regard to the ground on which the
transcendental principle of reason in its pure synthetical cognition
will rest.
1. Reason, as observed in the syllogistic process, is not applicable to
intuitions, for the purpose of subjecting them to rules—for this is the
province of the understanding with its categories—but to conceptions
and judgements. If pure reason does apply to objects and the intuition
of them, it does so not immediately, but mediately—through the
understanding and its judgements, which have a direct relation to the
senses and their intuition, for the purpose of determining their
objects. The unity of reason is therefore not the unity of a possible
experience, but is essentially different from this unity, which is that
of the understanding. That everything which happens has a cause, is not
a principle cognized and prescribed by reason. This principle makes the
unity of experience possible and borrows nothing from reason, which,
without a reference to possible experience, could never have produced
by means of mere conceptions any such synthetical unity.
2. Reason, in its logical use, endeavours to discover the general
condition of its judgement (the conclusion), and a syllogism is itself
nothing but a judgement by means of the subsumption of its condition
under a general rule (the major). Now as this rule may itself be
subjected to the same process of reason, and thus the condition of the
condition be sought (by means of a prosyllogism) as long as the process
can be continued, it is very manifest that the peculiar principle of
reason in its logical use is to find for the conditioned cognition of
the understanding the unconditioned whereby the unity of the former is
completed.
But this logical maxim cannot be a principle of pure reason, unless we
admit that, if the conditioned is given, the whole series of conditions
subordinated to one another—a series which is consequently itself
unconditioned—is also given, that is, contained in the object and its
connection.
But this principle of pure reason is evidently synthetical; for,
analytically, the conditioned certainly relates to some condition, but
not to the unconditioned. From this principle also there must originate
different synthetical propositions, of which the pure understanding is
perfectly ignorant, for it has to do only with objects of a possible
experience, the cognition and synthesis of which is always conditioned.
The unconditioned, if it does really exist, must be especially
considered in regard to the determinations which distinguish it from
whatever is conditioned, and will thus afford us material for many à
priori synthetical propositions.
The principles resulting from this highest principle of pure reason
will, however, be transcendent in relation to phenomena, that is to
say, it will be impossible to make any adequate empirical use of this
principle. It is therefore completely different from all principles of
the understanding, the use made of which is entirely immanent, their
object and purpose being merely the possibility of experience. Now our
duty in the transcendental dialectic is as follows. To discover whether
the principle that the series of conditions (in the synthesis of
phenomena, or of thought in general) extends to the unconditioned is
objectively true, or not; what consequences result therefrom affecting
the empirical use of the understanding, or rather whether there exists
any such objectively valid proposition of reason, and whether it is
not, on the contrary, a merely logical precept which directs us to
ascend perpetually to still higher conditions, to approach completeness
in the series of them, and thus to introduce into our cognition the
highest possible unity of reason. We must ascertain, I say, whether
this requirement of reason has not been regarded, by a
misunderstanding, as a transcendental principle of pure reason, which
postulates a thorough completeness in the series of conditions in
objects themselves. We must show, moreover, the misconceptions and
illusions that intrude into syllogisms, the major proposition of which
pure reason has supplied—a proposition which has perhaps more of the
character of a petitio than of a postulatum—and that proceed from
experience upwards to its conditions. The solution of these problems is
our task in transcendental dialectic, which we are about to expose even
at its source, that lies deep in human reason. We shall divide it into
two parts, the first of which will treat of the transcendent
conceptions of pure reason, the second of transcendent and dialectical
syllogisms.
TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC—BOOK I—OF THE CONCEPTIONS OF PURE REASON.
The conceptions of pure reason—we do not here speak of the possibility
of them—are not obtained by reflection, but by inference or conclusion.
The conceptions of understanding are also cogitated à priori
antecedently to experience, and render it possible; but they contain
nothing but the unity of reflection upon phenomena, in so far as these
must necessarily belong to a possible empirical consciousness. Through
them alone are cognition and the determination of an object possible.
It is from them, accordingly, that we receive material for reasoning,
and antecedently to them we possess no à priori conceptions of objects
from which they might be deduced, On the other hand, the sole basis of
their objective reality consists in the necessity imposed on them, as
containing the intellectual form of all experience, of restricting
their application and influence to the sphere of experience.
But the term, conception of reason, or rational conception, itself
indicates that it does not confine itself within the limits of
experience, because its object-matter is a cognition, of which every
empirical cognition is but a part—nay, the whole of possible experience
may be itself but a part of it—a cognition to which no actual
experience ever fully attains, although it does always pertain to it.
The aim of rational conceptions is the comprehension, as that of the
conceptions of understanding is the understanding of perceptions. If
they contain the unconditioned, they relate to that to which all
experience is subordinate, but which is never itself an object of
experience—that towards which reason tends in all its conclusions from
experience, and by the standard of which it estimates the degree of
their empirical use, but which is never itself an element in an
empirical synthesis. If, notwithstanding, such conceptions possess
objective validity, they may be called conceptus ratiocinati
(conceptions legitimately concluded); in cases where they do not, they
have been admitted on account of having the appearance of being
correctly concluded, and may be called conceptus ratiocinantes
(sophistical conceptions). But as this can only be sufficiently
demonstrated in that part of our treatise which relates to the
dialectical conclusions of reason, we shall omit any consideration of
it in this place. As we called the pure conceptions of the
understanding categories, we shall also distinguish those of pure
reason by a new name and call them transcendental ideas. These terms,
however, we must in the first place explain and justify.
Section I—Of Ideas in General
Despite the great wealth of words which European languages possess, the
thinker finds himself often at a loss for an expression exactly suited
to his conception, for want of which he is unable to make himself
intelligible either to others or to himself. To coin new words is a
pretension to legislation in language which is seldom successful; and,
before recourse is taken to so desperate an expedient, it is advisable
to examine the dead and learned languages, with the hope and the
probability that we may there meet with some adequate expression of the
notion we have in our minds. In this case, even if the original meaning
of the word has become somewhat uncertain, from carelessness or want of
caution on the part of the authors of it, it is always better to adhere
to and confirm its proper meaning—even although it may be doubtful
whether it was formerly used in exactly this sense—than to make our
labour vain by want of sufficient care to render ourselves
intelligible.
For this reason, when it happens that there exists only a single word
to express a certain conception, and this word, in its usual
acceptation, is thoroughly adequate to the conception, the accurate
distinction of which from related conceptions is of great importance,
we ought not to employ the expression improvidently, or, for the sake
of variety and elegance of style, use it as a synonym for other cognate
words. It is our duty, on the contrary, carefully to preserve its
peculiar signification, as otherwise it easily happens that when the
attention of the reader is no longer particularly attracted to the
expression, and it is lost amid the multitude of other words of very
different import, the thought which it conveyed, and which it alone
conveyed, is lost with it.
Plato employed the expression idea in a way that plainly showed he
meant by it something which is never derived from the senses, but which
far transcends even the conceptions of the understanding (with which
Aristotle occupied himself), inasmuch as in experience nothing
perfectly corresponding to them could be found. Ideas are, according to
him, archetypes of things themselves, and not merely keys to possible
experiences, like the categories. In his view they flow from the
highest reason, by which they have been imparted to human reason,
which, however, exists no longer in its original state, but is obliged
with great labour to recall by reminiscence—which is called
philosophy—the old but now sadly obscured ideas. I will not here enter
upon any literary investigation of the sense which this sublime
philosopher attached to this expression. I shall content myself with
remarking that it is nothing unusual, in common conversation as well as
in written works, by comparing the thoughts which an author has
delivered upon a subject, to understand him better than he understood
himself inasmuch as he may not have sufficiently determined his
conception, and thus have sometimes spoken, nay even thought, in
opposition to his own opinions.
Plato perceived very clearly that our faculty of cognition has the
feeling of a much higher vocation than that of merely spelling out
phenomena according to synthetical unity, for the purpose of being able
to read them as experience, and that our reason naturally raises itself
to cognitions far too elevated to admit of the possibility of an object
given by experience corresponding to them—cognitions which are
nevertheless real, and are not mere phantoms of the brain.
This philosopher found his ideas especially in all that is
practical,[41] that is, which rests upon freedom, which in its turn
ranks under cognitions that are the peculiar product of reason. He who
would derive from experience the conceptions of virtue, who would make
(as many have really done) that, which at best can but serve as an
imperfectly illustrative example, a model for or the formation of a
perfectly adequate idea on the subject, would in fact transform virtue
into a nonentity changeable according to time and circumstance and
utterly incapable of being employed as a rule. On the contrary, every
one is conscious that, when any one is held up to him as a model of
virtue, he compares this so-called model with the true original which
he possesses in his own mind and values him according to this standard.
But this standard is the idea of virtue, in relation to which all
possible objects of experience are indeed serviceable as
examples—proofs of the practicability in a certain degree of that which
the conception of virtue demands—but certainly not as archetypes. That
the actions of man will never be in perfect accordance with all the
requirements of the pure ideas of reason, does not prove the thought to
be chimerical. For only through this idea are all judgements as to
moral merit or demerit possible; it consequently lies at the foundation
of every approach to moral perfection, however far removed from it the
obstacles in human nature—indeterminable as to degree—may keep us.
[41] He certainly extended the application of his conception to
speculative cognitions also, provided they were given pure and
completely à priori, nay, even to mathematics, although this science
cannot possess an object otherwhere than in Possible experience. I
cannot follow him in this, and as little can I follow him in his
mystical deduction of these ideas, or in his hypostatization of them;
although, in truth, the elevated and exaggerated language which he
employed in describing them is quite capable of an interpretation more
subdued and more in accordance with fact and the nature of things.
The Platonic Republic has become proverbial as an example—and a
striking one—of imaginary perfection, such as can exist only in the
brain of the idle thinker; and Brucker ridicules the philosopher for
maintaining that a prince can never govern well, unless he is
participant in the ideas. But we should do better to follow up this
thought and, where this admirable thinker leaves us without assistance,
employ new efforts to place it in clearer light, rather than carelessly
fling it aside as useless, under the very miserable and pernicious
pretext of impracticability. A constitution of the greatest possible
human freedom according to laws, by which the liberty of every
individual can consist with the liberty of every other (not of the
greatest possible happiness, for this follows necessarily from the
former), is, to say the least, a necessary idea, which must be placed
at the foundation not only of the first plan of the constitution of a
state, but of all its laws. And, in this, it not necessary at the
outset to take account of the obstacles which lie in our way—obstacles
which perhaps do not necessarily arise from the character of human
nature, but rather from the previous neglect of true ideas in
legislation. For there is nothing more pernicious and more unworthy of
a philosopher, than the vulgar appeal to a so-called adverse
experience, which indeed would not have existed, if those institutions
had been established at the proper time and in accordance with ideas;
while, instead of this, conceptions, crude for the very reason that
they have been drawn from experience, have marred and frustrated all
our better views and intentions. The more legislation and government
are in harmony with this idea, the more rare do punishments become and
thus it is quite reasonable to maintain, as Plato did, that in a
perfect state no punishments at all would be necessary. Now although a
perfect state may never exist, the idea is not on that account the less
just, which holds up this maximum as the archetype or standard of a
constitution, in order to bring legislative government always nearer
and nearer to the greatest possible perfection. For at what precise
degree human nature must stop in its progress, and how wide must be the
chasm which must necessarily exist between the idea and its
realization, are problems which no one can or ought to determine—and
for this reason, that it is the destination of freedom to overstep all
assigned limits between itself and the idea.
But not only in that wherein human reason is a real causal agent and
where ideas are operative causes (of actions and their objects), that
is to say, in the region of ethics, but also in regard to nature
herself, Plato saw clear proofs of an origin from ideas. A plant, and
animal, the regular order of nature—probably also the disposition of
the whole universe—give manifest evidence that they are possible only
by means of and according to ideas; that, indeed, no one creature,
under the individual conditions of its existence, perfectly harmonizes
with the idea of the most perfect of its kind—just as little as man
with the idea of humanity, which nevertheless he bears in his soul as
the archetypal standard of his actions; that, notwithstanding, these
ideas are in the highest sense individually, unchangeably, and
completely determined, and are the original causes of things; and that
the totality of connected objects in the universe is alone fully
adequate to that idea. Setting aside the exaggerations of expression in
the writings of this philosopher, the mental power exhibited in this
ascent from the ectypal mode of regarding the physical world to the
architectonic connection thereof according to ends, that is, ideas, is
an effort which deserves imitation and claims respect. But as regards
the principles of ethics, of legislation, and of religion, spheres in
which ideas alone render experience possible, although they never
attain to full expression therein, he has vindicated for himself a
position of peculiar merit, which is not appreciated only because it is
judged by the very empirical rules, the validity of which as principles
is destroyed by ideas. For as regards nature, experience presents us
with rules and is the source of truth, but in relation to ethical laws
experience is the parent of illusion, and it is in the highest degree
reprehensible to limit or to deduce the laws which dictate what I ought
to do, from what is done.
We must, however, omit the consideration of these important subjects,
the development of which is in reality the peculiar duty and dignity of
philosophy, and confine ourselves for the present to the more humble
but not less useful task of preparing a firm foundation for those
majestic edifices of moral science. For this foundation has been
hitherto insecure from the many subterranean passages which reason in
its confident but vain search for treasures has made in all directions.
Our present duty is to make ourselves perfectly acquainted with the
transcendental use made of pure reason, its principles and ideas, that
we may be able properly to determine and value its influence and real
worth. But before bringing these introductory remarks to a close, I beg
those who really have philosophy at heart—and their number is but
small—if they shall find themselves convinced by the considerations
following as well as by those above, to exert themselves to preserve to
the expression idea its original signification, and to take care that
it be not lost among those other expressions by which all sorts of
representations are loosely designated—that the interests of science
may not thereby suffer. We are in no want of words to denominate
adequately every mode of representation, without the necessity of
encroaching upon terms which are proper to others. The following is a
graduated list of them. The genus is representation in general
(representatio). Under it stands representation with consciousness
(perceptio). A perception which relates solely to the subject as a
modification of its state, is a sensation (sensatio), an objective
perception is a cognition (cognitio). A cognition is either an
intuition or a conception (intuitus vel conceptus). The former has an
immediate relation to the object and is singular and individual; the
latter has but a mediate relation, by means of a characteristic mark
which may be common to several things. A conception is either empirical
or pure. A pure conception, in so far as it has its origin in the
understanding alone, and is not the conception of a pure sensuous
image, is called notio. A conception formed from notions, which
transcends the possibility of experience, is an idea, or a conception
of reason. To one who has accustomed himself to these distinctions, it
must be quite intolerable to hear the representation of the colour red
called an idea. It ought not even to be called a notion or conception
of understanding.
Section II. Of Transcendental Ideas
Transcendental analytic showed us how the mere logical form of our
cognition can contain the origin of pure conceptions à priori,
conceptions which represent objects antecedently to all experience, or
rather, indicate the synthetical unity which alone renders possible an
empirical cognition of objects. The form of judgements—converted into a
conception of the synthesis of intuitions—produced the categories which
direct the employment of the understanding in experience. This
consideration warrants us to expect that the form of syllogisms, when
applied to synthetical unity of intuitions, following the rule of the
categories, will contain the origin of particular à priori conceptions,
which we may call pure conceptions of reason or transcendental ideas,
and which will determine the use of the understanding in the totality
of experience according to principles.
The function of reason in arguments consists in the universality of a
cognition according to conceptions, and the syllogism itself is a
judgement which is determined à priori in the whole extent of its
condition. The proposition: “Caius is mortal,” is one which may be
obtained from experience by the aid of the understanding alone; but my
wish is to find a conception which contains the condition under which
the predicate of this judgement is given—in this case, the conception
of man—and after subsuming under this condition, taken in its whole
extent (all men are mortal), I determine according to it the cognition
of the object thought, and say: “Caius is mortal.”
Hence, in the conclusion of a syllogism we restrict a predicate to a
certain object, after having thought it in the major in its whole
extent under a certain condition. This complete quantity of the extent
in relation to such a condition is called universality (universalitas).
To this corresponds totality (universitas) of conditions in the
synthesis of intuitions. The transcendental conception of reason is
therefore nothing else than the conception of the totality of the
conditions of a given conditioned. Now as the unconditioned alone
renders possible totality of conditions, and, conversely, the totality
of conditions is itself always unconditioned; a pure rational
conception in general can be defined and explained by means of the
conception of the unconditioned, in so far as it contains a basis for
the synthesis of the conditioned.
To the number of modes of relation which the understanding cogitates by
means of the categories, the number of pure rational conceptions will
correspond. We must therefore seek for, first, an unconditioned of the
categorical synthesis in a subject; secondly, of the hypothetical
synthesis of the members of a series; thirdly, of the disjunctive
synthesis of parts in a system.
There are exactly the same number of modes of syllogisms, each of which
proceeds through prosyllogisms to the unconditioned—one to the subject
which cannot be employed as predicate, another to the presupposition
which supposes nothing higher than itself, and the third to an
aggregate of the members of the complete division of a conception.
Hence the pure rational conceptions of totality in the synthesis of
conditions have a necessary foundation in the nature of human reason—at
least as modes of elevating the unity of the understanding to the
unconditioned. They may have no valid application, corresponding to
their transcendental employment, in concreto, and be thus of no greater
utility than to direct the understanding how, while extending them as
widely as possible, to maintain its exercise and application in perfect
consistence and harmony.
But, while speaking here of the totality of conditions and of the
unconditioned as the common title of all conceptions of reason, we
again light upon an expression which we find it impossible to dispense
with, and which nevertheless, owing to the ambiguity attaching to it
from long abuse, we cannot employ with safety. The word absolute is one
of the few words which, in its original signification, was perfectly
adequate to the conception it was intended to convey—a conception which
no other word in the same language exactly suits, and the loss—or,
which is the same thing, the incautious and loose employment—of which
must be followed by the loss of the conception itself. And, as it is a
conception which occupies much of the attention of reason, its loss
would be greatly to the detriment of all transcendental philosophy. The
word absolute is at present frequently used to denote that something
can be predicated of a thing considered in itself and intrinsically. In
this sense absolutely possible would signify that which is possible in
itself (interne)—which is, in fact, the least that one can predicate of
an object. On the other hand, it is sometimes employed to indicate that
a thing is valid in all respects—for example, absolute sovereignty.
Absolutely possible would in this sense signify that which is possible
in all relations and in every respect; and this is the most that can be
predicated of the possibility of a thing. Now these significations do
in truth frequently coincide. Thus, for example, that which is
intrinsically impossible, is also impossible in all relations, that is,
absolutely impossible. But in most cases they differ from each other
toto caelo, and I can by no means conclude that, because a thing is in
itself possible, it is also possible in all relations, and therefore
absolutely. Nay, more, I shall in the sequel show that absolute
necessity does not by any means depend on internal necessity, and that,
therefore, it must not be considered as synonymous with it. Of an
opposite which is intrinsically impossible, we may affirm that it is in
all respects impossible, and that, consequently, the thing itself, of
which this is the opposite, is absolutely necessary; but I cannot
reason conversely and say, the opposite of that which is absolutely
necessary is intrinsically impossible, that is, that the absolute
necessity of things is an internal necessity. For this internal
necessity is in certain cases a mere empty word with which the least
conception cannot be connected, while the conception of the necessity
of a thing in all relations possesses very peculiar determinations. Now
as the loss of a conception of great utility in speculative science
cannot be a matter of indifference to the philosopher, I trust that the
proper determination and careful preservation of the expression on
which the conception depends will likewise be not indifferent to him.
In this enlarged signification, then, shall I employ the word absolute,
in opposition to that which is valid only in some particular respect;
for the latter is restricted by conditions, the former is valid without
any restriction whatever.
Now the transcendental conception of reason has for its object nothing
else than absolute totality in the synthesis of conditions and does not
rest satisfied till it has attained to the absolutely, that is, in all
respects and relations, unconditioned. For pure reason leaves to the
understanding everything that immediately relates to the object of
intuition or rather to their synthesis in imagination. The former
restricts itself to the absolute totality in the employment of the
conceptions of the understanding and aims at carrying out the
synthetical unity which is cogitated in the category, even to the
unconditioned. This unity may hence be called the rational unity of
phenomena, as the other, which the category expresses, may be termed
the unity of the understanding. Reason, therefore, has an immediate
relation to the use of the understanding, not indeed in so far as the
latter contains the ground of possible experience (for the conception
of the absolute totality of conditions is not a conception that can be
employed in experience, because no experience is unconditioned), but
solely for the purpose of directing it to a certain unity, of which the
understanding has no conception, and the aim of which is to collect
into an absolute whole all acts of the understanding. Hence the
objective employment of the pure conceptions of reason is always
transcendent, while that of the pure conceptions of the understanding
must, according to their nature, be always immanent, inasmuch as they
are limited to possible experience.
I understand by idea a necessary conception of reason, to which no
corresponding object can be discovered in the world of sense.
Accordingly, the pure conceptions of reason at present under
consideration are transcendental ideas. They are conceptions of pure
reason, for they regard all empirical cognition as determined by means
of an absolute totality of conditions. They are not mere fictions, but
natural and necessary products of reason, and have hence a necessary
relation to the whole sphere of the exercise of the understanding. And,
finally, they are transcendent, and overstep the limits of all
experiences, in which, consequently, no object can ever be presented
that would be perfectly adequate to a transcendental idea. When we use
the word idea, we say, as regards its object (an object of the pure
understanding), a great deal, but as regards its subject (that is, in
respect of its reality under conditions of experience), exceedingly
little, because the idea, as the conception of a maximum, can never be
completely and adequately presented in concreto. Now, as in the merely
speculative employment of reason the latter is properly the sole aim,
and as in this case the approximation to a conception, which is never
attained in practice, is the same thing as if the conception were
non-existent—it is commonly said of the conception of this kind, “it is
only an idea.” So we might very well say, “the absolute totality of all
phenomena is only an idea,” for, as we never can present an adequate
representation of it, it remains for us a problem incapable of
solution. On the other hand, as in the practical use of the
understanding we have only to do with action and practice according to
rules, an idea of pure reason can always be given really in concreto,
although only partially, nay, it is the indispensable condition of all
practical employment of reason. The practice or execution of the idea
is always limited and defective, but nevertheless within indeterminable
boundaries, consequently always under the influence of the conception
of an absolute perfection. And thus the practical idea is always in the
highest degree fruitful, and in relation to real actions indispensably
necessary. In the idea, pure reason possesses even causality and the
power of producing that which its conception contains. Hence we cannot
say of wisdom, in a disparaging way, “it is only an idea.” For, for the
very reason that it is the idea of the necessary unity of all possible
aims, it must be for all practical exertions and endeavours the
primitive condition and rule—a rule which, if not constitutive, is at
least limitative.
Now, although we must say of the transcendental conceptions of reason,
“they are only ideas,” we must not, on this account, look upon them as
superfluous and nugatory. For, although no object can be determined by
them, they can be of great utility, unobserved and at the basis of the
edifice of the understanding, as the canon for its extended and
self-consistent exercise—a canon which, indeed, does not enable it to
cognize more in an object than it would cognize by the help of its own
conceptions, but which guides it more securely in its cognition. Not to
mention that they perhaps render possible a transition from our
conceptions of nature and the non-ego to the practical conceptions, and
thus produce for even ethical ideas keeping, so to speak, and
connection with the speculative cognitions of reason. The explication
of all this must be looked for in the sequel.
But setting aside, in conformity with our original purpose, the
consideration of the practical ideas, we proceed to contemplate reason
in its speculative use alone, nay, in a still more restricted sphere,
to wit, in the transcendental use; and here must strike into the same
path which we followed in our deduction of the categories. That is to
say, we shall consider the logical form of the cognition of reason,
that we may see whether reason may not be thereby a source of
conceptions which enables us to regard objects in themselves as
determined synthetically à priori, in relation to one or other of the
functions of reason.
Reason, considered as the faculty of a certain logical form of
cognition, is the faculty of conclusion, that is, of mediate
judgement—by means of the subsumption of the condition of a possible
judgement under the condition of a given judgement. The given judgement
is the general rule (major). The subsumption of the condition of
another possible judgement under the condition of the rule is the
minor. The actual judgement, which enounces the assertion of the rule
in the subsumed case, is the conclusion (conclusio). The rule
predicates something generally under a certain condition. The condition
of the rule is satisfied in some particular case. It follows that what
was valid in general under that condition must also be considered as
valid in the particular case which satisfies this condition. It is very
plain that reason attains to a cognition, by means of acts of the
understanding which constitute a series of conditions. When I arrive at
the proposition, “All bodies are changeable,” by beginning with the
more remote cognition (in which the conception of body does not appear,
but which nevertheless contains the condition of that conception), “All
compound is changeable,” by proceeding from this to a less remote
cognition, which stands under the condition of the former, “Bodies are
compound,” and hence to a third, which at length connects for me the
remote cognition (changeable) with the one before me, “Consequently,
bodies are changeable”—I have arrived at a cognition (conclusion)
through a series of conditions (premisses). Now every series, whose
exponent (of the categorical or hypothetical judgement) is given, can
be continued; consequently the same procedure of reason conducts us to
the ratiocinatio polysyllogistica, which is a series of syllogisms,
that can be continued either on the side of the conditions (per
prosyllogismos) or of the conditioned (per episyllogismos) to an
indefinite extent.
But we very soon perceive that the chain or series of prosyllogisms,
that is, of deduced cognitions on the side of the grounds or conditions
of a given cognition, in other words, the ascending series of
syllogisms must have a very different relation to the faculty of reason
from that of the descending series, that is, the progressive procedure
of reason on the side of the conditioned by means of episyllogisms.
For, as in the former case the cognition (conclusio) is given only as
conditioned, reason can attain to this cognition only under the
presupposition that all the members of the series on the side of the
conditions are given (totality in the series of premisses), because
only under this supposition is the judgement we may be considering
possible à priori; while on the side of the conditioned or the
inferences, only an incomplete and becoming, and not a presupposed or
given series, consequently only a potential progression, is cogitated.
Hence, when a cognition is contemplated as conditioned, reason is
compelled to consider the series of conditions in an ascending line as
completed and given in their totality. But if the very same condition
is considered at the same time as the condition of other cognitions,
which together constitute a series of inferences or consequences in a
descending line, reason may preserve a perfect indifference, as to how
far this progression may extend _a parte posteriori_, and whether the
totality of this series is possible, because it stands in no need of
such a series for the purpose of arriving at the conclusion before it,
inasmuch as this conclusion is sufficiently guaranteed and determined
on grounds a parte priori. It may be the case, that upon the side of
the conditions the series of premisses has a first or highest
condition, or it may not possess this, and so be a parte priori
unlimited; but it must, nevertheless, contain totality of conditions,
even admitting that we never could succeed in completely apprehending
it; and the whole series must be unconditionally true, if the
conditioned, which is considered as an inference resulting from it, is
to be held as true. This is a requirement of reason, which announces
its cognition as determined à priori and as necessary, either in
itself—and in this case it needs no grounds to rest upon—or, if it is
deduced, as a member of a series of grounds, which is itself
unconditionally true.
Section III. System of Transcendental Ideas
We are not at present engaged with a logical dialectic, which makes
complete abstraction of the content of cognition and aims only at
unveiling the illusory appearance in the form of syllogisms. Our
subject is transcendental dialectic, which must contain, completely à
priori, the origin of certain cognitions drawn from pure reason, and
the origin of certain deduced conceptions, the object of which cannot
be given empirically and which therefore lie beyond the sphere of the
faculty of understanding. We have observed, from the natural relation
which the transcendental use of our cognition, in syllogisms as well as
in judgements, must have to the logical, that there are three kinds of
dialectical arguments, corresponding to the three modes of conclusion,
by which reason attains to cognitions on principles; and that in all it
is the business of reason to ascend from the conditioned synthesis,
beyond which the understanding never proceeds, to the unconditioned
which the understanding never can reach.
Now the most general relations which can exist in our representations
are: 1st, the relation to the subject; 2nd, the relation to objects,
either as phenomena, or as objects of thought in general. If we connect
this subdivision with the main division, all the relations of our
representations, of which we can form either a conception or an idea,
are threefold: 1. The relation to the subject; 2. The relation to the
manifold of the object as a phenomenon; 3. The relation to all things
in general.
Now all pure conceptions have to do in general with the synthetical
unity of representations; conceptions of pure reason (transcendental
ideas), on the other hand, with the unconditional synthetical unity of
all conditions. It follows that all transcendental ideas arrange
themselves in three classes, the first of which contains the absolute
(unconditioned) unity of the thinking subject, the second the absolute
unity of the series of the conditions of a phenomenon, the third the
absolute unity of the condition of all objects of thought in general.
The thinking subject is the object-matter of Psychology; the sum total
of all phenomena (the world) is the object-matter of Cosmology; and the
thing which contains the highest condition of the possibility of all
that is cogitable (the being of all beings) is the object-matter of all
Theology. Thus pure reason presents us with the idea of a
transcendental doctrine of the soul (psychologia rationalis), of a
transcendental science of the world (cosmologia rationalis), and
finally of a transcendental doctrine of God (theologia
transcendentalis). Understanding cannot originate even the outline of
any of these sciences, even when connected with the highest logical use
of reason, that is, all cogitable syllogisms—for the purpose of
proceeding from one object (phenomenon) to all others, even to the
utmost limits of the empirical synthesis. They are, on the contrary,
pure and genuine products, or problems, of pure reason.
What modi of the pure conceptions of reason these transcendental ideas
are will be fully exposed in the following chapter. They follow the
guiding thread of the categories. For pure reason never relates
immediately to objects, but to the conceptions of these contained in
the understanding. In like manner, it will be made manifest in the
detailed explanation of these ideas—how reason, merely through the
synthetical use of the same function which it employs in a categorical
syllogism, necessarily attains to the conception of the absolute unity
of the thinking subject—how the logical procedure in hypothetical ideas
necessarily produces the idea of the absolutely unconditioned in a
series of given conditions, and finally—how the mere form of the
disjunctive syllogism involves the highest conception of a being of all
beings: a thought which at first sight seems in the highest degree
paradoxical.
An objective deduction, such as we were able to present in the case of
the categories, is impossible as regards these transcendental ideas.
For they have, in truth, no relation to any object, in experience, for
the very reason that they are only ideas. But a subjective deduction of
them from the nature of our reason is possible, and has been given in
the present chapter.
It is easy to perceive that the sole aim of pure reason is the absolute
totality of the synthesis on the side of the conditions, and that it
does not concern itself with the absolute completeness on the Part of
the conditioned. For of the former alone does she stand in need, in
order to preposit the whole series of conditions, and thus present them
to the understanding à priori. But if we once have a completely (and
unconditionally) given condition, there is no further necessity, in
proceeding with the series, for a conception of reason; for the
understanding takes of itself every step downward, from the condition
to the conditioned. Thus the transcendental ideas are available only
for ascending in the series of conditions, till we reach the
unconditioned, that is, principles. As regards descending to the
conditioned, on the other hand, we find that there is a widely
extensive logical use which reason makes of the laws of the
understanding, but that a transcendental use thereof is impossible; and
that when we form an idea of the absolute totality of such a synthesis,
for example, of the whole series of all future changes in the world,
this idea is a mere ens rationis, an arbitrary fiction of thought, and
not a necessary presupposition of reason. For the possibility of the
conditioned presupposes the totality of its conditions, but not of its
consequences. Consequently, this conception is not a transcendental
idea—and it is with these alone that we are at present occupied.
Finally, it is obvious that there exists among the transcendental ideas
a certain connection and unity, and that pure reason, by means of them,
collects all its cognitions into one system. From the cognition of self
to the cognition of the world, and through these to the supreme being,
the progression is so natural, that it seems to resemble the logical
march of reason from the premisses to the conclusion.[42] Now whether
there lies unobserved at the foundation of these ideas an analogy of
the same kind as exists between the logical and transcendental
procedure of reason, is another of those questions, the answer to which
we must not expect till we arrive at a more advanced stage in our
inquiries. In this cursory and preliminary view, we have, meanwhile,
reached our aim. For we have dispelled the ambiguity which attached to
the transcendental conceptions of reason, from their being commonly
mixed up with other conceptions in the systems of philosophers, and not
properly distinguished from the conceptions of the understanding; we
have exposed their origin and, thereby, at the same time their
determinate number, and presented them in a systematic connection, and
have thus marked out and enclosed a definite sphere for pure reason.
[42] The science of Metaphysics has for the proper object of its
inquiries only three grand ideas: GOD, FREEDOM, and IMMORTALITY, and
it aims at showing, that the second conception, conjoined with the
first, must lead to the third, as a necessary conclusion. All the
other subjects with which it occupies itself, are merely means for the
attainment and realization of these ideas. It does not require these
ideas for the construction of a science of nature, but, on the
contrary, for the purpose of passing beyond the sphere of nature. A
complete insight into and comprehension of them would render Theology,
Ethics, and, through the conjunction of both, Religion, solely
dependent on the speculative faculty of reason. In a systematic
representation of these ideas the above-mentioned arrangement—the
synthetical one—would be the most suitable; but in the investigation
which must necessarily precede it, the analytical, which reverses this
arrangement, would be better adapted to our purpose, as in it we
should proceed from that which experience immediately presents to
us—psychology, to cosmology, and thence to theology.
TRANSCENDENTAL DIALECTIC—BOOK II—OF THE DIALECTICAL PROCEDURE OF PURE
REASON
It may be said that the object of a merely transcendental idea is
something of which we have no conception, although the idea may be a
necessary product of reason according to its original laws. For, in
fact, a conception of an object that is adequate to the idea given by
reason, is impossible. For such an object must be capable of being
presented and intuited in a Possible experience. But we should express
our meaning better, and with less risk of being misunderstood, if we
said that we can have no knowledge of an object, which perfectly
corresponds to an idea, although we may possess a problematical
conception thereof.
Now the transcendental (subjective) reality at least of the pure
conceptions of reason rests upon the fact that we are led to such ideas
by a necessary procedure of reason. There must therefore be syllogisms
which contain no empirical premisses, and by means of which we conclude
from something that we do know, to something of which we do not even
possess a conception, to which we, nevertheless, by an unavoidable
illusion, ascribe objective reality. Such arguments are, as regards
their result, rather to be termed sophisms than syllogisms, although
indeed, as regards their origin, they are very well entitled to the
latter name, inasmuch as they are not fictions or accidental products
of reason, but are necessitated by its very nature. They are sophisms,
not of men, but of pure reason herself, from which the Wisest cannot
free himself. After long labour he may be able to guard against the
error, but he can never be thoroughly rid of the illusion which
continually mocks and misleads him.
Of these dialectical arguments there are three kinds, corresponding
to the number of the ideas which their conclusions present. In the
argument or syllogism of the first class, I conclude, from the
transcendental conception of the subject which contains no manifold,
the absolute unity of the subject itself, of which I cannot in this
manner attain to a conception. This dialectical argument I shall
call the transcendental paralogism. The second class of sophistical
arguments is occupied with the transcendental conception of the
absolute totality of the series of conditions for a given phenomenon,
and I conclude, from the fact that I have always a self-contradictory
conception of the unconditioned synthetical unity of the series upon
one side, the truth of the opposite unity, of which I have nevertheless
no conception. The condition of reason in these dialectical arguments,
I shall term the antinomy of pure reason. Finally, according to the
third kind of sophistical argument, I conclude, from the totality of
the conditions of thinking objects in general, in so far as they can
be given, the absolute synthetical unity of all conditions of the
possibility of things in general; that is, from things which I do not
know in their mere transcendental conception, I conclude a being of all
beings which I know still less by means of a transcendental conception,
and of whose unconditioned necessity I can form no conception whatever.
This dialectical argument I shall call the ideal of pure reason.
Chapter I. Of the Paralogisms of Pure Reason
The logical paralogism consists in the falsity of an argument in
respect of its form, be the content what it may. But a transcendental
paralogism has a transcendental foundation, and concludes falsely,
while the form is correct and unexceptionable. In this manner the
paralogism has its foundation in the nature of human reason, and is the
parent of an unavoidable, though not insoluble, mental illusion.
We now come to a conception which was not inserted in the general list
of transcendental conceptions, and yet must be reckoned with them, but
at the same time without in the least altering, or indicating a
deficiency in that table. This is the conception, or, if the term is
preferred, the judgement, “I think.” But it is readily perceived that
this thought is as it were the vehicle of all conceptions in general,
and consequently of transcendental conceptions also, and that it is
therefore regarded as a transcendental conception, although it can have
no peculiar claim to be so ranked, inasmuch as its only use is to
indicate that all thought is accompanied by consciousness. At the same
time, pure as this conception is from empirical content (impressions of
the senses), it enables us to distinguish two different kinds of
objects. “I,” as thinking, am an object of the internal sense, and am
called soul. That which is an object of the external senses is called
body. Thus the expression, “I,” as a thinking being, designates the
object-matter of psychology, which may be called “the rational doctrine
of the soul,” inasmuch as in this science I desire to know nothing of
the soul but what, independently of all experience (which determines me
in concreto), may be concluded from this conception “I,” in so far as
it appears in all thought.
Now, the rational doctrine of the soul is really an undertaking of this
kind. For if the smallest empirical element of thought, if any
particular perception of my internal state, were to be introduced among
the grounds of cognition of this science, it would not be a rational,
but an empirical doctrine of the soul. We have thus before us a
pretended science, raised upon the single proposition, “I think,” whose
foundation or want of foundation we may very properly, and agreeably
with the nature of a transcendental philosophy, here examine. It ought
not to be objected that in this proposition, which expresses the
perception of one’s self, an internal experience is asserted, and that
consequently the rational doctrine of the soul which is founded upon
it, is not pure, but partly founded upon an empirical principle. For
this internal perception is nothing more than the mere apperception, “I
think,” which in fact renders all transcendental conceptions possible,
in which we say, “I think substance, cause, etc.” For internal
experience in general and its possibility, or perception in general,
and its relation to other perceptions, unless some particular
distinction or determination thereof is empirically given, cannot be
regarded as empirical cognition, but as cognition of the empirical, and
belongs to the investigation of the possibility of every experience,
which is certainly transcendental. The smallest object of experience
(for example, only pleasure or pain), that should be included in the
general representation of self-consciousness, would immediately change
the rational into an empirical psychology.
“I think” is therefore the only text of rational psychology, from which
it must develop its whole system. It is manifest that this thought,
when applied to an object (myself), can contain nothing but
transcendental predicates thereof; because the least empirical
predicate would destroy the purity of the science and its independence
of all experience.
But we shall have to follow here the guidance of the categories—only,
as in the present case a thing, “I,” as thinking being, is at first
given, we shall—not indeed change the order of the categories as it
stands in the table—but begin at the category of substance, by which at
the a thing in itself is represented and proceeds backwards through the
series. The topic of the rational doctrine of the soul, from which
everything else it may contain must be deduced, is accordingly as
follows:
1 2
The Soul is SUBSTANCE As regards its quality
it is SIMPLE
3
As regards the different
times in which it exists,
it is numerically identical,
that is UNITY, not Plurality.
4
It is in relation to possible objects in space[43]
[43] The reader, who may not so easily perceive the psychological
sense of these expressions, taken here in their transcendental
abstraction, and cannot guess why the latter attribute of the soul
belongs to the category of existence, will find the expressions
sufficiently explained and justified in the sequel. I have, moreover,
to apologize for the Latin terms which have been employed, instead of
their German synonyms, contrary to the rules of correct writing. But I
judged it better to sacrifice elegance to perspicuity.
From these elements originate all the conceptions of pure psychology,
by combination alone, without the aid of any other principle. This
substance, merely as an object of the internal sense, gives the
conception of Immateriality; as simple substance, that of
Incorruptibility; its identity, as intellectual substance, gives the
conception of Personality; all these three together, Spirituality. Its
relation to objects in space gives us the conception of connection
(commercium) with bodies. Thus it represents thinking substance as the
principle of life in matter, that is, as a soul (anima), and as the
ground of Animality; and this, limited and determined by the conception
of spirituality, gives us that of Immortality.
Now to these conceptions relate four paralogisms of a transcendental
psychology, which is falsely held to be a science of pure reason,
touching the nature of our thinking being. We can, however, lay at the
foundation of this science nothing but the simple and in itself
perfectly contentless representation “i” which cannot even be called a
conception, but merely a consciousness which accompanies all
conceptions. By this “I,” or “He,” or “It,” who or which thinks,
nothing more is represented than a transcendental subject of thought =
x, which is cognized only by means of the thoughts that are its
predicates, and of which, apart from these, we cannot form the least
conception. Hence in a perpetual circle, inasmuch as we must always
employ it, in order to frame any judgement respecting it. And this
inconvenience we find it impossible to rid ourselves of, because
consciousness in itself is not so much a representation distinguishing
a particular object, as a form of representation in general, in so far
as it may be termed cognition; for in and by cognition alone do I think
anything.
It must, however, appear extraordinary at first sight that the
condition under which I think, and which is consequently a property of
my subject, should be held to be likewise valid for every existence
which thinks, and that we can presume to base upon a seemingly
empirical proposition a judgement which is apodeictic and universal, to
wit, that everything which thinks is constituted as the voice of my
consciousness declares it to be, that is, as a self-conscious being.
The cause of this belief is to be found in the fact that we necessarily
attribute to things à priori all the properties which constitute
conditions under which alone we can cogitate them. Now I cannot obtain
the least representation of a thinking being by means of external
experience, but solely through self-consciousness. Such objects are
consequently nothing more than the transference of this consciousness
of mine to other things which can only thus be represented as thinking
beings. The proposition, “I think,” is, in the present case, understood
in a problematical sense, not in so far as it contains a perception of
an existence (like the Cartesian “Cogito, ergo sum”), but in regard to
its mere possibility—for the purpose of discovering what properties may
be inferred from so simple a proposition and predicated of the subject
of it.
If at the foundation of our pure rational cognition of thinking beings
there lay more than the mere Cogito—if we could likewise call in aid
observations on the play of our thoughts, and the thence derived
natural laws of the thinking self, there would arise an empirical
psychology which would be a kind of physiology of the internal sense
and might possibly be capable of explaining the phenomena of that
sense. But it could never be available for discovering those properties
which do not belong to possible experience (such as the quality of
simplicity), nor could it make any apodeictic enunciation on the nature
of thinking beings: it would therefore not be a rational psychology.
Now, as the proposition “I think” (in the problematical sense) contains
the form of every judgement in general and is the constant
accompaniment of all the categories, it is manifest that conclusions
are drawn from it only by a transcendental employment of the
understanding. This use of the understanding excludes all empirical
elements; and we cannot, as has been shown above, have any favourable
conception beforehand of its procedure. We shall therefore follow with
a critical eye this proposition through all the predicaments of pure
psychology; but we shall, for brevity’s sake, allow this examination to
proceed in an uninterrupted connection.
Before entering on this task, however, the following general remark may
help to quicken our attention to this mode of argument. It is not
merely through my thinking that I cognize an object, but only through
my determining a given intuition in relation to the unity of
consciousness in which all thinking consists. It follows that I cognize
myself, not through my being conscious of myself as thinking, but only
when I am conscious of the intuition of myself as determined in
relation to the function of thought. All the modi of self-consciousness
in thought are hence not conceptions of objects (conceptions of the
understanding—categories); they are mere logical functions, which do
not present to thought an object to be cognized, and cannot therefore
present my Self as an object. Not the consciousness of the determining,
but only that of the determinable self, that is, of my internal
intuition (in so far as the manifold contained in it can be connected
conformably with the general condition of the unity of apperception in
thought), is the object.
1. In all judgements I am the determining subject of that relation
which constitutes a judgement. But that the I which thinks, must be
considered as in thought always a subject, and as a thing which cannot
be a predicate to thought, is an apodeictic and identical proposition.
But this proposition does not signify that I, as an object, am, for
myself, a self-subsistent being or substance. This latter statement—an
ambitious one—requires to be supported by data which are not to be
discovered in thought; and are perhaps (in so far as I consider the
thinking self merely as such) not to be discovered in the thinking self
at all.
2. That the I or Ego of apperception, and consequently in all thought,
is singular or simple, and cannot be resolved into a plurality of
subjects, and therefore indicates a logically simple subject—this is
self-evident from the very conception of an Ego, and is consequently an
analytical proposition. But this is not tantamount to declaring that
the thinking Ego is a simple substance—for this would be a synthetical
proposition. The conception of substance always relates to intuitions,
which with me cannot be other than sensuous, and which consequently lie
completely out of the sphere of the understanding and its thought: but
to this sphere belongs the affirmation that the Ego is simple in
thought. It would indeed be surprising, if the conception of
“substance,” which in other cases requires so much labour to
distinguish from the other elements presented by intuition—so much
trouble, too, to discover whether it can be simple (as in the case of
the parts of matter)—should be presented immediately to me, as if by
revelation, in the poorest mental representation of all.
3. The proposition of the identity of my Self amidst all the manifold
representations of which I am conscious, is likewise a proposition
lying in the conceptions themselves, and is consequently analytical.
But this identity of the subject, of which I am conscious in all its
representations, does not relate to or concern the intuition of the
subject, by which it is given as an object. This proposition cannot
therefore enounce the identity of the person, by which is understood
the consciousness of the identity of its own substance as a thinking
being in all change and variation of circumstances. To prove this, we
should require not a mere analysis of the proposition, but synthetical
judgements based upon a given intuition.
4. I distinguish my own existence, as that of a thinking being, from
that of other things external to me—among which my body also is
reckoned. This is also an analytical proposition, for other things are
exactly those which I think as different or distinguished from myself.
But whether this consciousness of myself is possible without things
external to me; and whether therefore I can exist merely as a thinking
being (without being man)—cannot be known or inferred from this
proposition.
Thus we have gained nothing as regards the cognition of myself as
object, by the analysis of the consciousness of my Self in thought. The
logical exposition of thought in general is mistaken for a metaphysical
determination of the object.
Our Critique would be an investigation utterly superfluous, if there
existed a possibility of proving à priori, that all thinking beings are
in themselves simple substances, as such, therefore, possess the
inseparable attribute of personality, and are conscious of their
existence apart from and unconnected with matter. For we should thus
have taken a step beyond the world of sense, and have penetrated into
the sphere of noumena; and in this case the right could not be denied
us of extending our knowledge in this sphere, of establishing
ourselves, and, under a favouring star, appropriating to ourselves
possessions in it. For the proposition: “Every thinking being, as such,
is simple substance,” is an à priori synthetical proposition; because
in the first place it goes beyond the conception which is the subject
of it, and adds to the mere notion of a thinking being the mode of its
existence, and in the second place annexes a predicate (that of
simplicity) to the latter conception—a predicate which it could not
have discovered in the sphere of experience. It would follow that à
priori synthetical propositions are possible and legitimate, not only,
as we have maintained, in relation to objects of possible experience,
and as principles of the possibility of this experience itself, but are
applicable to things in themselves—an inference which makes an end of
the whole of this Critique, and obliges us to fall back on the old mode
of metaphysical procedure. But indeed the danger is not so great, if we
look a little closer into the question.
There lurks in the procedure of rational Psychology a paralogism, which
is represented in the following syllogism:
That which cannot be cogitated otherwise than as subject, does not
exist otherwise than as subject, and is therefore substance.
A thinking being, considered merely as such, cannot be cogitated
otherwise than as subject.
Therefore it exists also as such, that is, as substance.
In the major we speak of a being that can be cogitated generally and in
every relation, consequently as it may be given in intuition. But in
the minor we speak of the same being only in so far as it regards
itself as subject, relatively to thought and the unity of
consciousness, but not in relation to intuition, by which it is
presented as an object to thought. Thus the conclusion is here arrived
at by a Sophisma figurae dictionis.[44]
[44] Thought is taken in the two premisses in two totally different
senses. In the major it is considered as relating and applying to
objects in general, consequently to objects of intuition also. In the
minor, we understand it as relating merely to self-consciousness. In
this sense, we do not cogitate an object, but merely the relation to
the self-consciousness of the subject, as the form of thought. In the
former premiss we speak of things which cannot be cogitated otherwise
than as subjects. In the second, we do not speak of things, but of
thought (all objects being abstracted), in which the Ego is always the
subject of consciousness. Hence the conclusion cannot be, “I cannot
exist otherwise than as subject”; but only “I can, in cogitating my
existence, employ my Ego only as the subject of the judgement.” But
this is an identical proposition, and throws no light on the mode of
my existence.
That this famous argument is a mere paralogism, will be plain to any
one who will consider the general remark which precedes our exposition
of the principles of the pure understanding, and the section on
noumena. For it was there proved that the conception of a thing, which
can exist per se—only as a subject and never as a predicate, possesses
no objective reality; that is to say, we can never know whether there
exists any object to correspond to the conception; consequently, the
conception is nothing more than a conception, and from it we derive no
proper knowledge. If this conception is to indicate by the term
substance, an object that can be given, if it is to become a cognition,
we must have at the foundation of the cognition a permanent intuition,
as the indispensable condition of its objective reality. For through
intuition alone can an object be given. But in internal intuition there
is nothing permanent, for the Ego is but the consciousness of my
thought. If then, we appeal merely to thought, we cannot discover the
necessary condition of the application of the conception of
substance—that is, of a subject existing per se—to the subject as a
thinking being. And thus the conception of the simple nature of
substance, which is connected with the objective reality of this
conception, is shown to be also invalid, and to be, in fact, nothing
more than the logical qualitative unity of self-consciousness in
thought; whilst we remain perfectly ignorant whether the subject is
composite or not.
Refutation of the Argument of Mendelssohn for the Substantiality or
Permanence of the Soul.
This acute philosopher easily perceived the insufficiency of the common
argument which attempts to prove that the soul—it being granted that it
is a simple being—cannot perish by dissolution or decomposition; he saw
it is not impossible for it to cease to be by extinction, or
disappearance. He endeavoured to prove in his Phaedo, that the soul
cannot be annihilated, by showing that a simple being cannot cease to
exist. Inasmuch as, he said, a simple existence cannot diminish, nor
gradually lose portions of its being, and thus be by degrees reduced to
nothing (for it possesses no parts, and therefore no multiplicity),
between the moment in which it is, and the moment in which it is not,
no time can be discovered—which is impossible. But this philosopher did
not consider that, granting the soul to possess this simple nature,
which contains no parts external to each other and consequently no
extensive quantity, we cannot refuse to it any less than to any other
being, intensive quantity, that is, a degree of reality in regard to
all its faculties, nay, to all that constitutes its existence. But this
degree of reality can become less and less through an infinite series
of smaller degrees. It follows, therefore, that this supposed
substance—this thing, the permanence of which is not assured in any
other way, may, if not by decomposition, by gradual loss (remissio) of
its powers (consequently by elanguescence, if I may employ this
expression), be changed into nothing. For consciousness itself has
always a degree, which may be lessened.[45] Consequently the faculty of
being conscious may be diminished; and so with all other faculties. The
permanence of the soul, therefore, as an object of the internal sense,
remains undemonstrated, nay, even indemonstrable. Its permanence in
life is evident, per se, inasmuch as the thinking being (as man) is to
itself, at the same time, an object of the external senses. But this
does not authorize the rational psychologist to affirm, from mere
conceptions, its permanence beyond life.[46]
[45] Clearness is not, as logicians maintain, the consciousness of a
representation. For a certain degree of consciousness, which may not,
however, be sufficient for recollection, is to be met with in many dim
representations. For without any consciousness at all, we should not
be able to recognize any difference in the obscure representations we
connect; as we really can do with many conceptions, such as those of
right and justice, and those of the musician, who strikes at once
several notes in improvising a piece of music. But a representation is
clear, in which our consciousness is sufficient for the consciousness
of the difference of this representation from others. If we are only
conscious that there is a difference, but are not conscious of the
difference—that is, what the difference is—the representation must be
termed obscure. There is, consequently, an infinite series of degrees
of consciousness down to its entire disappearance.
[46] There are some who think they have done enough to establish a new
possibility in the mode of the existence of souls, when they have
shown that there is no contradiction in their hypotheses on this
subject. Such are those who affirm the possibility of thought—of which
they have no other knowledge than what they derive from its use in
connecting empirical intuitions presented in this our human life—after
this life has ceased. But it is very easy to embarrass them by the
introduction of counter-possibilities, which rest upon quite as good a
foundation. Such, for example, is the possibility of the division of a
simple substance into several substances; and conversely, of the
coalition of several into one simple substance. For, although
divisibility presupposes composition, it does not necessarily require
a composition of substances, but only of the degrees (of the several
faculties) of one and the same substance. Now we can cogitate all the
powers and faculties of the soul—even that of consciousness—as
diminished by one half, the substance still remaining. In the same way
we can represent to ourselves without contradiction, this obliterated
half as preserved, not in the soul, but without it; and we can believe
that, as in this case every thing that is real in the soul, and has a
degree—consequently its entire existence—has been halved, a particular
substance would arise out of the soul. For the multiplicity, which has
been divided, formerly existed, but not as a multiplicity of
substances, but of every reality as the quantum of existence in it;
and the unity of substance was merely a mode of existence, which by
this division alone has been transformed into a plurality of
subsistence. In the same manner several simple substances might
coalesce into one, without anything being lost except the plurality of
subsistence, inasmuch as the one substance would contain the degree of
reality of all the former substances. Perhaps, indeed, the simple
substances, which appear under the form of matter, might (not indeed
by a mechanical or chemical influence upon each other, but by an
unknown influence, of which the former would be but the phenomenal
appearance), by means of such a dynamical division of the
parent-souls, as intensive quantities, produce other souls, while the
former repaired the loss thus sustained with new matter of the same
sort. I am far from allowing any value to such chimeras; and the
principles of our analytic have clearly proved that no other than an
empirical use of the categories—that of substance, for example—is
possible. But if the rationalist is bold enough to construct, on the
mere authority of the faculty of thought—without any intuition,
whereby an object is given—a self-subsistent being, merely because the
unity of apperception in thought cannot allow him to believe it a
composite being, instead of declaring, as he ought to do, that he is
unable to explain the possibility of a thinking nature; what ought to
hinder the materialist, with as complete an independence of
experience, to employ the principle of the rationalist in a directly
opposite manner—still preserving the formal unity required by his
opponent?
If, now, we take the above propositions—as they must be accepted as
valid for all thinking beings in the system of rational psychology—in
synthetical connection, and proceed, from the category of relation,
with the proposition: “All thinking beings are, as such, substances,”
backwards through the series, till the circle is completed; we come at
last to their existence, of which, in this system of rational
psychology, substances are held to be conscious, independently of
external things; nay, it is asserted that, in relation to the
permanence which is a necessary characteristic of substance, they can
of themselves determine external things. It follows that idealism—at
least problematical idealism, is perfectly unavoidable in this
rationalistic system. And, if the existence of outward things is not
held to be requisite to the determination of the existence of a
substance in time, the existence of these outward things at all, is a
gratuitous assumption which remains without the possibility of a proof.
But if we proceed analytically—the “I think” as a proposition
containing in itself an existence as given, consequently modality being
the principle—and dissect this proposition, in order to ascertain its
content, and discover whether and how this Ego determines its existence
in time and space without the aid of anything external; the
propositions of rationalistic psychology would not begin with the
conception of a thinking being, but with a reality, and the properties
of a thinking being in general would be deduced from the mode in which
this reality is cogitated, after everything empirical had been
abstracted; as is shown in the following table:
1
I think,
2 3
as Subject, as simple Subject,
4
as identical Subject,
in every state of my thought.
Now, inasmuch as it is not determined in this second proposition,
whether I can exist and be cogitated only as subject, and not also as a
predicate of another being, the conception of a subject is here taken
in a merely logical sense; and it remains undetermined, whether
substance is to be cogitated under the conception or not. But in the
third proposition, the absolute unity of apperception—the simple Ego in
the representation to which all connection and separation, which
constitute thought, relate, is of itself important; even although it
presents us with no information about the constitution or subsistence
of the subject. Apperception is something real, and the simplicity of
its nature is given in the very fact of its possibility. Now in space
there is nothing real that is at the same time simple; for points,
which are the only simple things in space, are merely limits, but not
constituent parts of space. From this follows the impossibility of a
definition on the basis of materialism of the constitution of my Ego as
a merely thinking subject. But, because my existence is considered in
the first proposition as given, for it does not mean, “Every thinking
being exists” (for this would be predicating of them absolute
necessity), but only, “I exist thinking”; the proposition is quite
empirical, and contains the determinability of my existence merely in
relation to my representations in time. But as I require for this
purpose something that is permanent, such as is not given in internal
intuition; the mode of my existence, whether as substance or as
accident, cannot be determined by means of this simple
self-consciousness. Thus, if materialism is inadequate to explain the
mode in which I exist, spiritualism is likewise as insufficient; and
the conclusion is that we are utterly unable to attain to any knowledge
of the constitution of the soul, in so far as relates to the
possibility of its existence apart from external objects.
And, indeed, how should it be possible, merely by the aid of the unity
of consciousness—which we cognize only for the reason that it is
indispensable to the possibility of experience—to pass the bounds of
experience (our existence in this life); and to extend our cognition to
the nature of all thinking beings by means of the empirical—but in
relation to every sort of intuition, perfectly
undetermined—proposition, “I think”?
There does not then exist any rational psychology as a doctrine
furnishing any addition to our knowledge of ourselves. It is nothing
more than a discipline, which sets impassable limits to speculative
reason in this region of thought, to prevent it, on the one hand, from
throwing itself into the arms of a soulless materialism, and, on the
other, from losing itself in the mazes of a baseless spiritualism. It
teaches us to consider this refusal of our reason to give any
satisfactory answer to questions which reach beyond the limits of this
our human life, as a hint to abandon fruitless speculation; and to
direct, to a practical use, our knowledge of ourselves—which, although
applicable only to objects of experience, receives its principles from
a higher source, and regulates its procedure as if our destiny reached
far beyond the boundaries of experience and life.
From all this it is evident that rational psychology has its origin in
a mere misunderstanding. The unity of consciousness, which lies at the
basis of the categories, is considered to be an intuition of the
subject as an object; and the category of substance is applied to the
intuition. But this unity is nothing more than the unity in thought, by
which no object is given; to which therefore the category of
substance—which always presupposes a given intuition—cannot be applied.
Consequently, the subject cannot be cognized. The subject of the
categories cannot, therefore, for the very reason that it cogitates
these, frame any conception of itself as an object of the categories;
for, to cogitate these, it must lay at the foundation its own pure
self-consciousness—the very thing that it wishes to explain and
describe. In like manner, the subject, in which the representation of
time has its basis, cannot determine, for this very reason, its own
existence in time. Now, if the latter is impossible, the former, as an
attempt to determine itself by means of the categories as a thinking
being in general, is no less so.[47]
[47] The “I think” is, as has been already stated, an empirical
proposition, and contains the proposition, “I exist.” But I cannot
say, “Everything, which thinks, exists”; for in this case the property
of thought would constitute all beings possessing it, necessary
beings. Hence my existence cannot be considered as an inference from
the proposition, “I think,” as Descartes maintained—because in this
case the major premiss, “Everything, which thinks, exists,” must
precede—but the two propositions are identical. The proposition, “I
think,” expresses an undetermined empirical intuition, that perception
(proving consequently that sensation, which must belong to
sensibility, lies at the foundation of this proposition); but it
precedes experience, whose province it is to determine an object of
perception by means of the categories in relation to time; and
existence in this proposition is not a category, as it does not apply
to an undetermined given object, but only to one of which we have a
conception, and about which we wish to know whether it does or does
not exist, out of, and apart from this conception. An undetermined
perception signifies here merely something real that has been given,
only, however, to thought in general—but not as a phenomenon, nor as a
thing in itself (noumenon), but only as something that really exists,
and is designated as such in the proposition, “I think.” For it must
be remarked that, when I call the proposition, “I think,” an empirical
proposition, I do not thereby mean that the Ego in the proposition is
an empirical representation; on the contrary, it is purely
intellectual, because it belongs to thought in general. But without
some empirical representation, which presents to the mind material for
thought, the mental act, “I think,” would not take place; and the
empirical is only the condition of the application or employment of
the pure intellectual faculty.
Thus, then, appears the vanity of the hope of establishing a cognition
which is to extend its rule beyond the limits of experience—a cognition
which is one of the highest interests of humanity; and thus is proved
the futility of the attempt of speculative philosophy in this region of
thought. But, in this interest of thought, the severity of criticism
has rendered to reason a not unimportant service, by the demonstration
of the impossibility of making any dogmatical affirmation concerning an
object of experience beyond the boundaries of experience. She has thus
fortified reason against all affirmations of the contrary. Now, this
can be accomplished in only two ways. Either our proposition must be
proved apodeictically; or, if this is unsuccessful, the sources of this
inability must be sought for, and, if these are discovered to exist in
the natural and necessary limitation of our reason, our opponents must
submit to the same law of renunciation and refrain from advancing
claims to dogmatic assertion.
But the right, say rather the necessity to admit a future life, upon
principles of the practical conjoined with the speculative use of
reason, has lost nothing by this renunciation; for the merely
speculative proof has never had any influence upon the common reason of
men. It stands upon the point of a hair, so that even the schools have
been able to preserve it from falling only by incessantly discussing it
and spinning it like a top; and even in their eyes it has never been
able to present any safe foundation for the erection of a theory. The
proofs which have been current among men, preserve their value
undiminished; nay, rather gain in clearness and unsophisticated power,
by the rejection of the dogmatical assumptions of speculative reason.
For reason is thus confined within her own peculiar province—the
arrangement of ends or aims, which is at the same time the arrangement
of nature; and, as a practical faculty, without limiting itself to the
latter, it is justified in extending the former, and with it our own
existence, beyond the boundaries of experience and life. If we turn our
attention to the analogy of the nature of living beings in this world,
in the consideration of which reason is obliged to accept as a
principle that no organ, no faculty, no appetite is useless, and that
nothing is superfluous, nothing disproportionate to its use, nothing
unsuited to its end; but that, on the contrary, everything is perfectly
conformed to its destination in life—we shall find that man, who alone
is the final end and aim of this order, is still the only animal that
seems to be excepted from it. For his natural gifts—not merely as
regards the talents and motives that may incite him to employ them, but
especially the moral law in him—stretch so far beyond all mere earthly
utility and advantage, that he feels himself bound to prize the mere
consciousness of probity, apart from all advantageous consequences—even
the shadowy gift of posthumous fame—above everything; and he is
conscious of an inward call to constitute himself, by his conduct in
this world—without regard to mere sublunary interests—the citizen of a
better. This mighty, irresistible proof—accompanied by an
ever-increasing knowledge of the conformability to a purpose in
everything we see around us, by the conviction of the boundless
immensity of creation, by the consciousness of a certain
illimitableness in the possible extension of our knowledge, and by a
desire commensurate therewith—remains to humanity, even after the
theoretical cognition of ourselves has failed to establish the
necessity of an existence after death.
Conclusion of the Solution of the Psychological Paralogism.
The dialectical illusion in rational psychology arises from our
confounding an idea of reason (of a pure intelligence) with the
conception—in every respect undetermined—of a thinking being in
general. I cogitate myself in behalf of a possible experience, at the
same time making abstraction of all actual experience; and infer
therefrom that I can be conscious of myself apart from experience and
its empirical conditions. I consequently confound the possible
abstraction of my empirically determined existence with the supposed
consciousness of a possible separate existence of my thinking self; and
I believe that I cognize what is substantial in myself as a
transcendental subject, when I have nothing more in thought than the
unity of consciousness, which lies at the basis of all determination of
cognition.
The task of explaining the community of the soul with the body does not
properly belong to the psychology of which we are here speaking;
because it proposes to prove the personality of the soul apart from
this communion (after death), and is therefore transcendent in the
proper sense of the word, although occupying itself with an object of
experience—only in so far, however, as it ceases to be an object of
experience. But a sufficient answer may be found to the question in our
system. The difficulty which lies in the execution of this task
consists, as is well known, in the presupposed heterogeneity of the
object of the internal sense (the soul) and the objects of the external
senses; inasmuch as the formal condition of the intuition of the one is
time, and of that of the other space also. But if we consider that both
kinds of objects do not differ internally, but only in so far as the
one appears externally to the other—consequently, that what lies at the
basis of phenomena, as a thing in itself, may not be heterogeneous;
this difficulty disappears. There then remains no other difficulty than
is to be found in the question—how a community of substances is
possible; a question which lies out of the region of psychology, and
which the reader, after what in our analytic has been said of primitive
forces and faculties, will easily judge to be also beyond the region of
human cognition.
GENERAL REMARK
On the Transition from Rational Psychology to Cosmology.
The proposition, “I think,” or, “I exist thinking,” is an empirical
proposition. But such a proposition must be based on empirical
intuition, and the object cogitated as a phenomenon; and thus our
theory appears to maintain that the soul, even in thought, is merely a
phenomenon; and in this way our consciousness itself, in fact, abuts
upon nothing.
Thought, per se, is merely the purely spontaneous logical function
which operates to connect the manifold of a possible intuition; and it
does not represent the subject of consciousness as a phenomenon—for
this reason alone, that it pays no attention to the question whether
the mode of intuiting it is sensuous or intellectual. I therefore do
not represent myself in thought either as I am, or as I appear to
myself; I merely cogitate myself as an object in general, of the mode
of intuiting which I make abstraction. When I represent myself as the
subject of thought, or as the ground of thought, these modes of
representation are not related to the categories of substance or of
cause; for these are functions of thought applicable only to our
sensuous intuition. The application of these categories to the Ego
would, however, be necessary, if I wished to make myself an object of
knowledge. But I wish to be conscious of myself only as thinking; in
what mode my Self is given in intuition, I do not consider, and it may
be that I, who think, am a phenomenon—although not in so far as I am a
thinking being; but in the consciousness of myself in mere thought I am
a being, though this consciousness does not present to me any property
of this being as material for thought.
But the proposition, “I think,” in so far as it declares, “I exist
thinking,” is not the mere representation of a logical function. It
determines the subject (which is in this case an object also) in
relation to existence; and it cannot be given without the aid of the
internal sense, whose intuition presents to us an object, not as a
thing in itself, but always as a phenomenon. In this proposition there
is therefore something more to be found than the mere spontaneity of
thought; there is also the receptivity of intuition, that is, my
thought of myself applied to the empirical intuition of myself. Now, in
this intuition the thinking self must seek the conditions of the
employment of its logical functions as categories of substance, cause,
and so forth; not merely for the purpose of distinguishing itself as an
object in itself by means of the representation “I,” but also for the
purpose of determining the mode of its existence, that is, of cognizing
itself as noumenon. But this is impossible, for the internal empirical
intuition is sensuous, and presents us with nothing but phenomenal
data, which do not assist the object of pure consciousness in its
attempt to cognize itself as a separate existence, but are useful only
as contributions to experience.
But, let it be granted that we could discover, not in experience, but
in certain firmly-established à priori laws of the use of pure
reason—laws relating to our existence, authority to consider ourselves
as legislating à priori in relation to our own existence and as
determining this existence; we should, on this supposition, find
ourselves possessed of a spontaneity, by which our actual existence
would be determinable, without the aid of the conditions of empirical
intuition. We should also become aware that in the consciousness of our
existence there was an à priori content, which would serve to determine
our own existence—an existence only sensuously determinable—relatively,
however, to a certain internal faculty in relation to an intelligible
world.
But this would not give the least help to the attempts of rational
psychology. For this wonderful faculty, which the consciousness of the
moral law in me reveals, would present me with a principle of the
determination of my own existence which is purely intellectual—but by
what predicates? By none other than those which are given in sensuous
intuition. Thus I should find myself in the same position in rational
psychology which I formerly occupied, that is to say, I should find
myself still in need of sensuous intuitions, in order to give
significance to my conceptions of substance and cause, by means of
which alone I can possess a knowledge of myself: but these intuitions
can never raise me above the sphere of experience. I should be
justified, however, in applying these conceptions, in regard to their
practical use, which is always directed to objects of experience—in
conformity with their analogical significance when employed
theoretically—to freedom and its subject. At the same time, I should
understand by them merely the logical functions of subject and
predicate, of principle and consequence, in conformity with which all
actions are so determined, that they are capable of being explained
along with the laws of nature, conformably to the categories of
substance and cause, although they originate from a very different
principle. We have made these observations for the purpose of guarding
against misunderstanding, to which the doctrine of our intuition of
self as a phenomenon is exposed. We shall have occasion to perceive
their utility in the sequel.
Chapter II. The Antinomy of Pure Reason
We showed in the introduction to this part of our work, that all
transcendental illusion of pure reason arose from dialectical
arguments, the schema of which logic gives us in its three formal
species of syllogisms—just as the categories find their logical schema
in the four functions of all judgements. The first kind of these
sophistical arguments related to the unconditioned unity of the
subjective conditions of all representations in general (of the subject
or soul), in correspondence with the categorical syllogisms, the major
of which, as the principle, enounces the relation of a predicate to a
subject. The second kind of dialectical argument will therefore be
concerned, following the analogy with hypothetical syllogisms, with the
unconditioned unity of the objective conditions in the phenomenon; and,
in this way, the theme of the third kind to be treated of in the
following chapter will be the unconditioned unity of the objective
conditions of the possibility of objects in general.
But it is worthy of remark that the transcendental paralogism produced
in the mind only a one-third illusion, in regard to the idea of the
subject of our thought; and the conceptions of reason gave no ground to
maintain the contrary proposition. The advantage is completely on the
side of Pneumatism; although this theory itself passes into naught, in
the crucible of pure reason.
Very different is the case when we apply reason to the objective
synthesis of phenomena. Here, certainly, reason establishes, with much
plausibility, its principle of unconditioned unity; but it very soon
falls into such contradictions that it is compelled, in relation to
cosmology, to renounce its pretensions.
For here a new phenomenon of human reason meets us—a perfectly natural
antithetic, which does not require to be sought for by subtle
sophistry, but into which reason of itself unavoidably falls. It is
thereby preserved, to be sure, from the slumber of a fancied
conviction—which a merely one-sided illusion produces; but it is at the
same time compelled, either, on the one hand, to abandon itself to a
despairing scepticism, or, on the other, to assume a dogmatical
confidence and obstinate persistence in certain assertions, without
granting a fair hearing to the other side of the question. Either is
the death of a sound philosophy, although the former might perhaps
deserve the title of the euthanasia of pure reason.
Before entering this region of discord and confusion, which the
conflict of the laws of pure reason (antinomy) produces, we shall
present the reader with some considerations, in explanation and
justification of the method we intend to follow in our treatment of
this subject. I term all transcendental ideas, in so far as they relate
to the absolute totality in the synthesis of phenomena, cosmical
conceptions; partly on account of this unconditioned totality, on which
the conception of the world-whole is based—a conception, which is
itself an idea—partly because they relate solely to the synthesis of
phenomena—the empirical synthesis; while, on the other hand, the
absolute totality in the synthesis of the conditions of all possible
things gives rise to an ideal of pure reason, which is quite distinct
from the cosmical conception, although it stands in relation with it.
Hence, as the paralogisms of pure reason laid the foundation for a
dialectical psychology, the antinomy of pure reason will present us
with the transcendental principles of a pretended pure (rational)
cosmology—not, however, to declare it valid and to appropriate it,
but—as the very term of a conflict of reason sufficiently indicates, to
present it as an idea which cannot be reconciled with phenomena and
experience.
Section I. System of Cosmological Ideas
That we may be able to enumerate with systematic precision these ideas
according to a principle, we must remark, in the first place, that it
is from the understanding alone that pure and transcendental
conceptions take their origin; that the reason does not properly give
birth to any conception, but only frees the conception of the
understanding from the unavoidable limitation of a possible experience,
and thus endeavours to raise it above the empirical, though it must
still be in connection with it. This happens from the fact that, for a
given conditioned, reason demands absolute totality on the side of the
conditions (to which the understanding submits all phenomena), and thus
makes of the category a transcendental idea. This it does that it may
be able to give absolute completeness to the empirical synthesis, by
continuing it to the unconditioned (which is not to be found in
experience, but only in the idea). Reason requires this according to
the principle: If the conditioned is given the whole of the conditions,
and consequently the absolutely unconditioned, is also given, whereby
alone the former was possible. First, then, the transcendental ideas
are properly nothing but categories elevated to the unconditioned; and
they may be arranged in a table according to the titles of the latter.
But, secondly, all the categories are not available for this purpose,
but only those in which the synthesis constitutes a series—of
conditions subordinated to, not co-ordinated with, each other. Absolute
totality is required of reason only in so far as concerns the ascending
series of the conditions of a conditioned; not, consequently, when the
question relates to the descending series of consequences, or to the
aggregate of the co-ordinated conditions of these consequences. For, in
relation to a given conditioned, conditions are presupposed and
considered to be given along with it. On the other hand, as the
consequences do not render possible their conditions, but rather
presuppose them—in the consideration of the procession of consequences
(or in the descent from the given condition to the conditioned), we may
be quite unconcerned whether the series ceases or not; and their
totality is not a necessary demand of reason.
Thus we cogitate—and necessarily—a given time completely elapsed up to
a given moment, although that time is not determinable by us. But as
regards time future, which is not the condition of arriving at the
present, in order to conceive it; it is quite indifferent whether we
consider future time as ceasing at some point, or as prolonging itself
to infinity. Take, for example, the series m, n, o, in which n is given
as conditioned in relation to m, but at the same time as the condition
of o, and let the series proceed upwards from the conditioned n to m
(l, k, i, etc.), and also downwards from the condition n to the
conditioned o (p, q, r, etc.)—I must presuppose the former series, to
be able to consider n as given, and n is according to reason (the
totality of conditions) possible only by means of that series. But its
possibility does not rest on the following series o, p, q, r, which for
this reason cannot be regarded as given, but only as capable of being
given (dabilis).
I shall term the synthesis of the series on the side of the
conditions—from that nearest to the given phenomenon up to the more
remote—regressive; that which proceeds on the side of the conditioned,
from the immediate consequence to the more remote, I shall call the
progressive synthesis. The former proceeds in antecedentia, the latter
in consequentia. The cosmological ideas are therefore occupied with the
totality of the regressive synthesis, and proceed in antecedentia, not
in consequentia. When the latter takes place, it is an arbitrary and
not a necessary problem of pure reason; for we require, for the
complete understanding of what is given in a phenomenon, not the
consequences which succeed, but the grounds or principles which
precede.
In order to construct the table of ideas in correspondence with the
table of categories, we take first the two primitive quanta of all our
intuitions, time and space. Time is in itself a series (and the formal
condition of all series), and hence, in relation to a given present, we
must distinguish à priori in it the antecedentia as conditions (time
past) from the consequentia (time future). Consequently, the
transcendental idea of the absolute totality of the series of the
conditions of a given conditioned, relates merely to all past time.
According to the idea of reason, the whole past time, as the condition
of the given moment, is necessarily cogitated as given. But, as regards
space, there exists in it no distinction between progressus and
regressus; for it is an aggregate and not a series—its parts existing
together at the same time. I can consider a given point of time in
relation to past time only as conditioned, because this given moment
comes into existence only through the past time rather through the
passing of the preceding time. But as the parts of space are not
subordinated, but co-ordinated to each other, one part cannot be the
condition of the possibility of the other; and space is not in itself,
like time, a series. But the synthesis of the manifold parts of
space—(the syntheses whereby we apprehend space)—is nevertheless
successive; it takes place, therefore, in time, and contains a series.
And as in this series of aggregated spaces (for example, the feet in a
rood), beginning with a given portion of space, those which continue to
be annexed form the condition of the limits of the former—the
measurement of a space must also be regarded as a synthesis of the
series of the conditions of a given conditioned. It differs, however,
in this respect from that of time, that the side of the conditioned is
not in itself distinguishable from the side of the condition; and,
consequently, regressus and progressus in space seem to be identical.
But, inasmuch as one part of space is not given, but only limited, by
and through another, we must also consider every limited space as
conditioned, in so far as it presupposes some other space as the
condition of its limitation, and so on. As regards limitation,
therefore, our procedure in space is also a regressus, and the
transcendental idea of the absolute totality of the synthesis in a
series of conditions applies to space also; and I am entitled to demand
the absolute totality of the phenomenal synthesis in space as well as
in time. Whether my demand can be satisfied is a question to be
answered in the sequel.
Secondly, the real in space—that is, matter—is conditioned. Its
internal conditions are its parts, and the parts of parts its remote
conditions; so that in this case we find a regressive synthesis, the
absolute totality of which is a demand of reason. But this cannot be
obtained otherwise than by a complete division of parts, whereby the
real in matter becomes either nothing or that which is not matter, that
is to say, the simple. Consequently we find here also a series of
conditions and a progress to the unconditioned.
Thirdly, as regards the categories of a real relation between
phenomena, the category of substance and its accidents is not suitable
for the formation of a transcendental idea; that is to say, reason has
no ground, in regard to it, to proceed regressively with conditions.
For accidents (in so far as they inhere in a substance) are
co-ordinated with each other, and do not constitute a series. And, in
relation to substance, they are not properly subordinated to it, but
are the mode of existence of the substance itself. The conception of
the substantial might nevertheless seem to be an idea of the
transcendental reason. But, as this signifies nothing more than the
conception of an object in general, which subsists in so far as we
cogitate in it merely a transcendental subject without any predicates;
and as the question here is of an unconditioned in the series of
phenomena—it is clear that the substantial can form no member thereof.
The same holds good of substances in community, which are mere
aggregates and do not form a series. For they are not subordinated to
each other as conditions of the possibility of each other; which,
however, may be affirmed of spaces, the limits of which are never
determined in themselves, but always by some other space. It is,
therefore, only in the category of causality that we can find a series
of causes to a given effect, and in which we ascend from the latter, as
the conditioned, to the former as the conditions, and thus answer the
question of reason.
Fourthly, the conceptions of the possible, the actual, and the
necessary do not conduct us to any series—excepting only in so far as
the contingent in existence must always be regarded as conditioned, and
as indicating, according to a law of the understanding, a condition,
under which it is necessary to rise to a higher, till in the totality
of the series, reason arrives at unconditioned necessity.
There are, accordingly, only four cosmological ideas, corresponding
with the four titles of the categories. For we can select only such as
necessarily furnish us with a series in the synthesis of the manifold.
1
The absolute Completeness
of the
COMPOSITION
of the given totality of all phenomena.
2
The absolute Completeness
of the
DIVISION
of given totality in a phenomenon.
3
The absolute Completeness
of the
ORIGINATION
of a phenomenon.
4
The absolute Completeness
of the DEPENDENCE of the EXISTENCE
of what is changeable in a phenomenon.
We must here remark, in the first place, that the idea of absolute
totality relates to nothing but the exposition of phenomena, and
therefore not to the pure conception of a totality of things. Phenomena
are here, therefore, regarded as given, and reason requires the
absolute completeness of the conditions of their possibility, in so far
as these conditions constitute a series—consequently an absolutely
(that is, in every respect) complete synthesis, whereby a phenomenon
can be explained according to the laws of the understanding.
Secondly, it is properly the unconditioned alone that reason seeks in
this serially and regressively conducted synthesis of conditions. It
wishes, to speak in another way, to attain to completeness in the
series of premisses, so as to render it unnecessary to presuppose
others. This unconditioned is always contained in the absolute totality
of the series, when we endeavour to form a representation of it in
thought. But this absolutely complete synthesis is itself but an idea;
for it is impossible, at least before hand, to know whether any such
synthesis is possible in the case of phenomena. When we represent all
existence in thought by means of pure conceptions of the understanding,
without any conditions of sensuous intuition, we may say with justice
that for a given conditioned the whole series of conditions
subordinated to each other is also given; for the former is only given
through the latter. But we find in the case of phenomena a particular
limitation of the mode in which conditions are given, that is, through
the successive synthesis of the manifold of intuition, which must be
complete in the regress. Now whether this completeness is sensuously
possible, is a problem. But the idea of it lies in the reason—be it
possible or impossible to connect with the idea adequate empirical
conceptions. Therefore, as in the absolute totality of the regressive
synthesis of the manifold in a phenomenon (following the guidance of
the categories, which represent it as a series of conditions to a given
conditioned) the unconditioned is necessarily contained—it being still
left unascertained whether and how this totality exists; reason sets
out from the idea of totality, although its proper and final aim is the
unconditioned—of the whole series, or of a part thereof.
This unconditioned may be cogitated—either as existing only in the
entire series, all the members of which therefore would be without
exception conditioned and only the totality absolutely
unconditioned—and in this case the regressus is called infinite; or the
absolutely unconditioned is only a part of the series, to which the
other members are subordinated, but which Is not itself submitted to
any other condition.[48] In the former case the series is a parte
priori unlimited (without beginning), that is, infinite, and
nevertheless completely given. But the regress in it is never
completed, and can only be called potentially infinite. In the second
case there exists a first in the series. This first is called, in
relation to past time, the beginning of the world; in relation to
space, the limit of the world; in relation to the parts of a given
limited whole, the simple; in relation to causes, absolute spontaneity
(liberty); and in relation to the existence of changeable things,
absolute physical necessity.
[48] The absolute totality of the series of conditions to a given
conditioned is always unconditioned; because beyond it there exist no
other conditions, on which it might depend. But the absolute totality
of such a series is only an idea, or rather a problematical
conception, the possibility of which must be investigated—particularly
in relation to the mode in which the unconditioned, as the
transcendental idea which is the real subject of inquiry, may be
contained therein.
We possess two expressions, world and nature, which are generally
interchanged. The first denotes the mathematical total of all phenomena
and the totality of their synthesis—in its progress by means of
composition, as well as by division. And the world is termed
nature,[49] when it is regarded as a dynamical whole—when our attention
is not directed to the aggregation in space and time, for the purpose
of cogitating it as a quantity, but to the unity in the existence of
phenomena. In this case the condition of that which happens is called a
cause; the unconditioned causality of the cause in a phenomenon is
termed liberty; the conditioned cause is called in a more limited sense
a natural cause. The conditioned in existence is termed contingent, and
the unconditioned necessary. The unconditioned necessity of phenomena
may be called natural necessity.
[49] Nature, understood adjective (formaliter), signifies the complex
of the determinations of a thing, connected according to an internal
principle of causality. On the other hand, we understand by nature,
substantive (materialiter), the sum total of phenomena, in so far as
they, by virtue of an internal principle of causality, are connected
with each other throughout. In the former sense we speak of the nature
of liquid matter, of fire, etc., and employ the word only adjective;
while, if speaking of the objects of nature, we have in our minds the
idea of a subsisting whole.
The ideas which we are at present engaged in discussing I have called
cosmological ideas; partly because by the term world is understood the
entire content of all phenomena, and our ideas are directed solely to
the unconditioned among phenomena; partly also, because world, in the
transcendental sense, signifies the absolute totality of the content of
existing things, and we are directing our attention only to the
completeness of the synthesis—although, properly, only in regression.
In regard to the fact that these ideas are all transcendent, and,
although they do not transcend phenomena as regards their mode, but are
concerned solely with the world of sense (and not with noumena),
nevertheless carry their synthesis to a degree far above all possible
experience—it still seems to me that we can, with perfect propriety,
designate them cosmical conceptions. As regards the distinction between
the mathematically and the dynamically unconditioned which is the aim
of the regression of the synthesis, I should call the two former, in a
more limited signification, cosmical conceptions, the remaining two
transcendent physical conceptions. This distinction does not at present
seem to be of particular importance, but we shall afterwards find it to
be of some value.