Indeed, we may now doubt whether Immanent Idealism signifies a type of

life at all; whether it is not simply a compromise between a religious

shaping of life and a life turned towards sense experience; a _via

media_, which as merely transitional is only able to maintain itself for

a time. The historical experience of the Modern Age seems to show that

the latter hypothesis is the true one. At the beginning of the epoch

Religion stood in secure supremacy and the divine acted on man from a

sovereignty that was supreme over the world. Then the divine came ever

closer to the world that it might spread itself over it and permeate it,

till finally there was no longer any separation, and God and world

blended together in a single whole. At first this seemed a pure and a

great gain: the divine put off all rigid sovereignty and spoke to us

immediately out of the whole extent of life; the world was related,

through the power of the divine, to an inner whole and, illuminated by

it, received a transfigured appearance. And yet this solution was only

apparent; it contained an inner contradiction, which ultimately was

bound to break forth with a power of destruction. The divine had

developed its power and its depth in opposition to the world; will it

retain that power and that depth if the opposition ceases; will not the

renunciation of supremacy, the fusion with things, rob it of all

distinctive content? As a matter of fact, with this increase in

proximity and extension, the divine fades and dissolves more and more;

ever less power proceeds from it: and so the world is ever less

transformed and elevated by it; its transfiguring light is dissipated

and its inner relations are broken. From being a life-penetrating power

Pantheism becomes more and more a vague disposition; indeed, an empty

phrase. The living whole, which in the beginning raised things to

itself, has finally become a mere abstraction which cannot hold its

ground before vigorous thought. Thus, with an immanent dialectic, such

as historical life often enough shows, the movement, since it strove for

breadth, has been destroyed in its life-giving root; it has abandoned

the basis from which it derived its truth and power. Immanent Idealism

shows itself to be one great contradiction; a fascinating illusion,

which, instead of reality, presents us with mere appearance.

Of course, Immanent Idealism is not finally refuted by such doubts and

difficulties; it puts forward demands which need to be satisfied in

some way; it contains truths which in some manner must be acknowledged.

What would become of human life if it should abandon its striving

forwards to the whole; its spiritual penetration of the world; its

advance in greatness and breadth; its joyous and vigorous nature; the

excellence of its disposition? But the indispensable truth that is

involved in Immanent Idealism must be brought into wider relations, and

thus made clear and modified, so that it may be more secure and more

fruitful in its effect. Meanwhile, we see that here also we are in

complete uncertainty; that which was intended to give a firm support,

and to point out a clear course to our life, has itself become a

difficult problem.

(b) THE NEWER SYSTEMS

No attack from without and no relaxation from within could have brought

the older systems of life into the state of chaos which we actually find

them to be in, if the experience of sense had not become far more to man

and had not given him far more to do than in earlier times. Hitherto

genuine spiritual life seemed to be able to unfold itself only in

energetic detachment from the world of sense; it reduced this world to a

subordinate sphere which received its position and value only from a

transcendent order; thus, all tarrying with the things of sense seemed

to be a sign of a lower disposition, a falling from the heights of human

life.

This view has been radically altered by the course of the Modern Age.

When the invisible world became uncertain to man and the life directed

towards it shadowy, an intense thirst for reality, for a life out of the

abundance and truth of things, arose, and only the visible world seemed

to promise satisfaction. This world had been seen previously in a

particular light which is now felt to be artificial and distorting; if

this light fails and the world can unfold itself unaffected, it shows a

far richer content, far firmer relations, far greater tasks. All this is

more especially because the world no longer appears to be something

finished, but as still in process and as capable of a thorough-going

elevation; because great possibilities which human power is able to

awaken still lie dormant in it. In diverse directions sense experience

advances far beyond the older form; Natural Science analyses the visible

world into its single components and makes it penetrable to our thought,

and at the same time technical skill wins power over its forces. In the

political and social sphere men find new tasks not only in regard to

isolated questions, but throughout the whole of its organisation, and

great hopes of an essential elevation of life are raised. The individual

also appears more powerful and richer, in that the decay of traditional

ties gives him complete freedom for his development. Even if, in the

struggle for the control of life, these movements in many ways fall into

contradiction one with another, still, in the first place they unite in

advancing the world of sense in man's estimation, in fixing his love and

his work there, and in also making men more and more disinclined to

consider the life-systems rooted in the invisible. Sense experience

presents itself ever more decidedly as something which can tolerate

neither partner nor rival; the life directed towards it loses more and

more the nature of being an opponent, which it hitherto had, and it

undertakes to shape our whole existence characteristically in positive

achievement and also to satisfy the spiritual needs of man completely.

All this signifies an entire reversal of the order of life; for, since

the world which formerly had seemed secondary now becomes predominant,

indeed exclusive, all standards and values are changed, and the old

possession appears also as a new gain. It is true that the new mode of

thought misses the advantages which a long tradition gave to the old:

but in place of this, it has the charm of searching and finding for

itself, the joy of first discovery and successful exertion; here an

infinite horizon is disclosed; before the research and effort of man

lies an open way. Endeavour derives particular power and confidence

from the conviction that the new is nothing else than the old and

genuine, but hitherto misunderstood, nature: it is a return of life to

itself, to its plain and pure truth, which permits us to expect a new

world epoch. And so mankind, exalted in mind and with cheerful courage,

enters upon the course which promises so much.

1. THE NATURALISTIC SYSTEM

The movement towards giving sole attention to the world of sense cannot

make sure progress without a more definite decision concerning the main

agents and the main direction of work. Different possibilities here

offer themselves; three, however, in particular. In reality, these have

all evolved, sometimes blending together and strengthening one another,

at other times crossing and hindering one another.

None of these movements has displayed more energy and exercised more

power than that which makes the sense experience of surrounding nature

its basis, and strives to include man's entire being within this

experience. This is Naturalism, which, starting out from the mechanical

conception of nature, which has been developed in the Modern Age,

applies the ideas thus obtained to everything, and subordinates even the

life of the soul to them. The movement originated at the dawn of the

seventeenth century, when an independence and autonomy of nature began

to be acknowledged. Nature had been covered with a veil of explanation,

mainly æsthetic or religious in character, which gave it a colour

corresponding to the prevailing disposition, but at the same time

excluded the possibility of a scientific comprehension. A comprehension

of this kind could only be attained by getting rid of all subjective

addition which had been made by man, and by investigating nature purely

by itself. Since Descartes and Galileo that has been accomplished, and

nature now appears as an immense web of single threads, as a complex of

fundamentally mobile, but soulless, elements, whose movements take

simple basal forms, while the combination of these elements produces all

constructions, even the most complicated. This mighty machinery never

points beyond, and as it runs its course solely within itself, so it

requires to be understood solely from itself. Everything spiritual is

thus eliminated; this realm of fact has no implication of aims, or of a

meaning of events.

This new scientific conception of nature had first, with much toil and

difficulty, to wrestle with the traditional, naïvely human,

representation; this was chiefly a matter of reducing first appearances

to their simple elements, and of constructing the world anew from these.

By this process, nature at the same time became accessible to the

operation of man. For, the technical control of nature presupposes the

analytic character of research; only such a research, with its discovery

of the single elements and tendencies, places man in a relation of

activity towards nature; while in earlier times only an attitude of

contemplation had been granted to him. Natural Science thus created a

new type of life, a life energetic, masculine, pressing forward

unceasingly.

This life, like science itself, in the first place forms a special part

of a wider whole. As the expulsion of the soul from nature at first

brought about a strengthening of the soul in itself, nature was the less

immediately able to govern the whole. The individual of modern times

strengthened and asserted himself against nature, and insisted upon a

realm of independent inwardness. The contest was a severe one; yet the

more nature was seen to extend, on the one hand, to the infinitely

great, and, on the other, to the infinitely small, the more fixed

relations it showed, so much the more overwhelmingly did it draw man to

itself, the more did its conception tend to include the inner aspects of

the soul also. The final blow in the struggle was given by the modern

theory of descent, since this theory asserts man to be the product

solely of natural forces, and maintains that everything which man

ascribes to himself as characteristic and distinctive is derived from a

gradual development of natural factors. And so nature is exalted as an

all-comprehensive world--nature, that is, as represented in the modern

mechanistic theory, which is thus transformed into a final theory of the

world, a naturalistic metaphysic. The human and spiritual world, which

hitherto had been felt to be an independent realm in contrast with

nature, appears henceforth as its mere continuation, as something which

fits completely into a wider conception of nature.

A conviction of this kind must fundamentally alter the position of the

spiritual life, as well as its magnitudes and values: and this

conviction is no mere theory, but desires and strives to take possession

of the whole of existence and to change its form completely. Indeed, a

particular naturalistic type of life arises and wins a powerful

influence over the thought and activity of the time.

Naturalism denies all independence of the spiritual life, which it

regards as nothing more than an adjunct to the realm of nature, and one

that can only exist along with sense existence, as a part of or as a

supplement to it. Spirituality has, therefore, to subordinate itself and

conform entirely to the life of nature; it can never produce and guide a

movement from itself, never evolve a basal and comprehensive activity,

never withdraw itself into its own sphere as into an independent realm.

All self-existent spirituality fades to a world of mere shadows;

whatever makes itself felt in us can only become a complete reality by

winning flesh and blood through the appropriation of physical forces.

Life, thus understood, possesses nothing in itself; it receives

everything from its relations to the environment with which it is bound

up: thought brings forth no new ideas; all ideas are merely

abbreviations of sense impressions. Effort can never realise purely

spiritual values; the essence of all happiness is sensuous enjoyment,

however refined that may in some cases be. The naturalistic system of

life receives a more definite delineation from the representation of

nature, which the mechanical theory, together with a theory of descent

adapted to it, sketches and impressively holds up to the present age. By

this theory nature is completely resolved into a co-existence of

individual forces, which, within the narrow bounds of existence, must

clash violently together, and assert themselves one against the other in

ceaseless conflict. This conflict, however, is a source of progressive

movement, in that it brings together, establishes, and employs

everything useful for self-preservation; it keeps life in a state of

youthful freshness, in that new conditions continually arise and demand

new accommodations with respect to the biologico-economic environment. A

biologico-economic mode of thought is evolved which revolutionises all

previous estimations of values. Everything intrinsically valuable

disappears from the world; its expulsion seems a deliverance from a

confused, indeed a meaningless, conception of things; the useful, that

which promotes the interests of living beings, each after its kind, in

the struggle for existence, becomes the all-dominating value. No

mysterious being of things is apprehended in the True; but those

presentations and systems of thought are called true which ensure that

the best accommodation to the conditions of life shall be attained, and

which just in this way hold the individuals together. No longer does a

Good speak to man with austere demand from a transcendent sovereignty;

but that is good which, within our experience, is of service to the

preservation of life. The Beautiful, also, is subordinated to the

useful, and it is solely by its value in relation to this that it

asserts itself. In everything, it is only one's own welfare, the

interest of individual preservation, that directly inspires conduct; but

real life shows man in so many relations, so closely implicated with his

environment, that he can strive for nothing for himself without also

striving for others. This extension of interests has no limits; there is

nothing in the whole of infinity which could not in this way become to

man, indirectly, a means of self-preservation and thus an object of

desire.

The naturalistic type of life extends from the most general of impulses

to every branch of activity, and forms every department of life in a

distinctive fashion. Knowledge depends entirely upon experience; every

speculative element must be excluded as a subjective delusion; in all

its branches knowledge is nothing else than a broadened Natural Science.

Art may not pursue imaginary ideals; it finds its single task in the

faithful and simple reproduction of the natural environment. Social life

and endeavour will develop, above all, natural powers, and will seek to

adapt itself to the conditions given by nature, and, rejecting all aims

based upon mere imagination, it will care chiefly for the physical

welfare of the whole, as the source of all power and of all success.

It is not difficult to understand how this form of life was able to win

and carry away the minds of its contemporaries. In the first place it

has the character of simplicity and immediacy, which, in contrast with

the complexity and the remoteness of the traditional position, appears a

great advantage. For, in this scheme, life, with all its multiplicity,

is dominated and unified by the idea of natural self-preservation; and

the things which immediately affect us, which lie physically and

psychically near to us, come most directly into relation to this aim. It

is a further tendency of this scheme of life to bring the whole of

existence into a state of activity and restless advance. For the state

of conflict which prevails under the naturalistic system allows nothing

to persist merely because of its present existence or through the weight

of tradition, but everything must always be reasserting its right to

existence; it must stretch and extend itself in order to be useful in

the life of the present. That which cannot satisfy this test is

unmercifully thrown over as a dead weight. It is also of great

importance to the theory in question that nature and the world are

involved in ceaseless change, and that, along with the conditions of

life, the requirements also alter: the matter is one of continually

accommodating oneself anew; and so life is placed entirely in the

present, and the fixity of an absolute conception and treatment of

change yields to the instability of a relative one. Last of all, and

most especially, life according to its own conviction bears the

character of truth. For human striving appears to attain the firm basis

of reality, and to become truthful in itself only when it is definitely

related to the surrounding world; while, so long as it trusted to the

capacity of the subject--which fondly imagined itself independent--it

fell into unspeakable error. Only when delivered from subjectivity, only

when fixed within the web of the whole of nature, does life seem to

awaken out of a dream, and to become fully real, a genuine, securely

grounded life.

The energy of negation which this theory employs and with which it

drives out everything which has become old adds strength to the elements

of assertion and positive achievement in these changes. In this theory

there is nothing indefinite which could soften the opposition, nothing

mediatory which could overcome it, but, distinctly and harshly,

affirmation and negation stand face to face and call for a plain

decision between them. Whatever remains in doubt and under suspicion is

forced into the background, indeed eliminated altogether, through the

victorious onward march of modern Natural Science and the increasing

triumphs of technical skill, which seem to demonstrate, immediately, the

truth of the naturalistic type of life. Thus, this movement spreads in a

mighty flood through humanity, and seizes with a particular power the

classes which are struggling upward, and which meet science and culture

with a faith yet undisturbed. In matters temporal there is hardly

anything which seems able to withstand such an attack.

Nevertheless, that which gains the support of many contemporaries is not

thereby proved to be the supreme power and the final truth. In that

movement there may be far more, and something far more important than it

itself admits. It may be that it achieves that which it does achieve

only with the help of elements of another kind; perhaps, indeed, it is

able to maintain its truth only in so far as it enters into broader

relations in a wider whole and thereby changes its meaning essentially.

Whether such is the case can be ascertained not by reference to

subjective opinion, but by an examination of the life of humanity.

Now, the first movement of opposition is produced in just that sphere

which seemed Naturalism's strongest bulwark, that is, Natural Science,

the Natural Science based on mathematics and physics. Only the most

fleeting survey can lead to the confusion of Natural Science with

Naturalism; in reality, the naturalistic thinker cannot with justice

acknowledge any exact Natural Science, and a natural scientist cannot be

naturalistic in thought in consequence of his science, but only in spite

of it. For, Natural Science is anything but a mere copy of the sense

impressions which we experience; its origin and progress are due to the

fact that thought fundamentally acts upon and transforms those

impressions. If our intellect were no more than Naturalism can logically

make it out to be, it could, at most, only refine the animal

presentations a little; it never could have advanced beyond the single

presentations to a representative conception of the world as a whole.

Such an advance can be achieved only by thought raising itself above the

stream of appearances and placing itself over against it; but how could

a mere bundle of perceptions, to which Naturalism reduces the intellect,

achieve this? Incomparably more unity of being and freedom of operation

are necessary for this achievement than such a bundle could produce.

In earlier times, no doubt, man went very much astray in the

interpretation of his environment; he transferred his immediate feelings

into it; he coloured the whole world in human colours, and associated

with its realities as with beings of the same nature as himself. But

even the error shows a seeking and an interpretation; the simple putting

of the question proclaims a being becoming superior to mere nature. The

most important thing, however, is that man has not regarded the matter

as finally settled with this anthropomorphism; he has come to regard it

as inadequate and has pressed forward to a new way of thinking. What

could drive him to that change but a desire for truth, and how is such a

conception as _truth_ attainable from nature? And if thought has

succeeded in breaking through the misty veil of anthropomorphism and

seeks things in their own relations; if an objective consciousness of

the world has emerged, a consciousness which is as different from the

immediacy of sense impressions as the sky is distant from the earth, has

not man also grown in himself beyond mere sense impression; is it not a

work of thought which supports and governs the whole construction, and

differentiates genuine nature from appearance? How much power of

comprehension and of relating together is exhibited even by Natural

Science, in that it analyses the sense presentation of the environment

into its single elements, ascertains the laws of these, and traces the

movement from the simplest beginnings right up to its present stage of

development. All activity of thought is thus subject to a certain

reproach in that it must continually bring itself into relation to

perception: nevertheless it will interweave all that is imparted to it

by perception into a framework of thought--transform it, in fact, into a

realm of thought. Spirituality is bound; but how dull an individual must

be to confuse such a bound spirituality with mere sensuousness!

The error of Naturalism is obvious; concerned solely with the object and

its form, it entirely leaves out of account the psychical activity which

is involved in the perception of an object; it overlooks the

life-process within which alone we can have knowledge of an object and

occupy ourselves with it. As soon, however, as we regard the object from

this point of view, it will be transformed and will assume far more

spiritual traits. Reality will then burst asunder the framework into

which Naturalism desires to press it.

The type of life which Naturalism gives rise to also contains more than

Naturalism is able to explain. At first sight it seems as though man is

taken up completely into a wider conception of nature; as though his

life obeys its forces and impulses exclusively; as though all his

asserted superiority to nature is simply imaginary. As a matter of fact,

in this turning to nature, man, with his spiritual activity, stands not

within, but above, nature. For he does not appear as a mere piece of

nature, but experiences it and thinks over it: its kingdom, its

organisation, its stability become to him a joyful possession and a

widening of his being. The spiritual life has developed in relation to

nature; nature has not welded it together. The same may be said of the

idea of the increase of power, which constitutes the main gain of life

in the naturalistic system. For, in the naturalistic type of life power

is not directed towards externals, as in nature, but is experienced and

enjoyed, and only thus does it constitute a source of happiness; yet how

could it be that, without an organisation of life in an inner unity

which transcends individual occurrences? Thus, the intellectual and the

technical control of nature which the Modern Age has acquired attracts

men and prevails over them chiefly as a growth of life, as an increase

of self-reliance. Even material goods, wealth and property, do not

determine the endeavour of the man of culture so much through sensuous

enjoyment, the limit of which is soon reached, as through their

possibilities as means to activity and creation, to the advancement of

human capacity. It is this in particular which has filled the material

civilisation of the present with the spirit of restlessness and

extravagance, and gives it its demoniacal power over men. It is this

relation alone which explains and justifies the present estimate of

material goods, so much higher as that is in modern culture than it was

in the older systems of thought, which branded as unworthy all endeavour

directed to the acquirement of such things.

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