with regard to the direction which research has to take to accomplish
its task. Diverse, fundamentally different systems passed in review
before us; each came forward as the unadorned and true expression of a
reality that seemed common to them all; their struggle appeared to be a
conflict concerning the interpretation of this reality. It became
evident, however, that the conflict is, on the contrary, in regard not
to the interpretation but the fundamental nature of reality; different
realities arise which are irreconcilably opposed. The systems do not
originate in a common and secure basis: the basis itself is sought, and
may assume various forms. The conflict therefore is much more over
ultimate problems than is usually supposed; it arises primarily out of
the nature of life itself, out of the inner movement which advances
against the illimitable world around us, and seeks to gain the mastery
over it. Our life and our world acquire a definite character only by our
taking up such a movement of counteraction, the particular nature of
which decides over all further moulding of life. We have seen that when
we ourselves became active we took up and emphasised one of the
possibilities which lie within the range of our life, and held it as
supreme over all the rest; we took as the fundamental relation one of
the relations of which our life is capable, as, for example, the
relation to God, to the immanent reason of the universe, to nature, to
society, to one's own individuality. A particular sphere of life was
thus marked out; a scheme of life was yielded which appeared capable of
taking up all experience into itself: according to the starting-point
adopted, we sketched a distinctive outline and sought to include the
whole content of human industry, man's universe of work--as we might
call it--in order to lead to our own perfection. This scheme, assumed to
be true, then had to show what it was capable of; a powerful effort was
brought forth to overcome the resistance of a world which, even when it
was grasped from within, still remained alien to our nature; and,
ultimately, to form the whole into a unity. We were not, as it were, an
empty vessel into which a content flows from outside, but we generated
from within a movement which went onward and onward, and desired to take
up everything in itself; it was a matter of radically transforming the
external into an inner life. We could succeed in this only in that life
self-consciously pressed forward to win new powers; formed connections,
branches, and graduations; accomplished an inner construction; and with
progressive self-elevation became an all-inclusive whole, which did not
possess a reality by the side of itself, but itself became complete
reality. Thus, life took possession of the world only in that it widened
itself from within to the world, and, in the appropriation of
everything alien to it, advanced from the original outline to full
concreteness.
According to the results of our inquiry, the chief decision in the
struggle with regard to the nature of the world also depends upon our
type of life. We convinced ourselves that there was no conception of
life common to the different systems, but that from its starting-point,
throughout its whole development, each of them shaped life differently
from the others; and we saw that the differences even went as far as
complete opposition. Each system of life had its own kind of experience;
each formed its own instruments for the appropriation of the world; each
saw of the infinite that in particular which corresponded to the main
direction of its own movement. A consideration of all the facts makes it
quite clear that a decision depends neither upon externals nor upon the
individual, but upon the inner life and the whole; and further, that
cognition does not give a solution to the problems of life, but that
life itself has to reach a solution through its own organisation and
construction, its own advance and creative activity.
However, that which was the compelling and deciding power in the systems
of the present day--the struggle for life itself--has not attained to
complete recognition in them. Rather, they were too quick to begin to
occupy themselves with objects, and sought to show themselves superior
in this respect to their rivals; the attention to results prevented the
correct appreciation and estimation of experience itself. The
impossibility of coming to an agreement concerning the object then
forced us back to the life-process; and we were led to the view that the
object appeared different because we ourselves placed something
different into it, and that we saw less the object itself than ourselves
and our life in the object. Thus we were induced to place our attention
chiefly on the subject; but then there was a strong tendency to leave
the world outside as a special realm; and the division of work between
subject and object drove us still further into uncertainty. In the
midst of such confusion, we did not come to the point of making a
decision; we did not attain the position from which alone an agreement
is possible; at one time one system, at another time another carried us
away. We failed to recognise that, however much we come into contact
externally, we live spiritually in separate worlds; that, while using
the same expressions, we speak different languages, and therefore cannot
possibly understand one another.
The gain is by no means an insignificant one, and a distinctive
treatment arises, if we become clearly conscious of the fact that the
shaping of the process of life itself is the chief object of conflict;
that the movement is not one between world and life, but lies entirely
within life; and that the essential matter is the perfecting of life
itself. The recognition of this fact leads us to an immanent mode of
treatment that has many advantages. The facts involved are now seen to
lie deeper. The source of experiences is not so much the relation to the
environment as the movement and expansion of life itself. Striving and
conduct may now involve a certain concreteness; indeed, the actual
experiencing of limitations and negations may lead to an elevation above
them. The type of life does not seek to justify itself, to show its
truth, through harmony with an external world; it is justified by its
own advance, its increase in strength, and its upward growth. It is only
a justification of this kind, a justification within its own realm, that
can acquire a power to convince and to restore again to life that
concreteness of which, in opposition to the excess of unrestrained
reflection and vague feeling, it is to-day in the direst need. If we
desire to arise above this state of division, and to attain a greater
unity, we can achieve our aim only by the power of an inner unification
of our life.
Instead, therefore, of considering the internal from the point of view
of the external, we must consider the external from the point of view of
the internal; our knowledge must be essentially a knowledge of self, our
experience an experience of self, if we would come any nearer to the
attainment of the aim. Our inner nature is not given to us as something
complete; it has first to be aroused to life and developed; we need to
attain to a state of self-determining activity if we would reach the
highest that we are capable of. From the recognition of the necessity of
greater activity, and of seeking the roots of the problem at greater
depths, we become aware of a new relation of thought to life. Although
thought may involve certain fundamental forms, and may adhere to them in
all its activity, it is life in its totality, as we understand it, which
first gives to thought its more detailed form, a characteristic nature,
clear aims and sure tendencies. Thought, therefore, is inseparable from
the movement and the advance of life; all hope of progress rests on the
hope of a further deepening of life; a revealing of new relations, and a
development of new powers. It is not from mere knowledge, but only from
the movement of life as a whole that we can make any advance; but the
life here referred to is one that includes knowledge, and not one that
takes up a position independent of knowledge, and, in opposition to it,
bases itself on supposed practical needs.
A treatment such as the one we have indicated has to be followed in the
investigation upon which we are about to enter. The chief aim of this
investigation is to reveal and to call forth life; it is not its chief
aim to interpret life in conceptual terms. It is from this position,
therefore, that we ask the question--which the conflict of the different
systems of life forced upon us--whether a unity transcending the
oppositions exists in us and can be aroused to life through our
self-determining activity. It is from this position also that we ask the
further question--which springs out of the struggle between the older
and the newer modes of thought--whether ultimately man must give up the
superior position which from early times he has adjudged himself, or
whether an inner elevation is possible which gives him the power to cope
with new tasks and new conditions. Whether such a treatment leads to a
positive result is a question of fact; and what the answer to this is
cannot be decided by a preliminary consideration, but only by the actual
investigation.
I. THE MAIN THESIS
(a) THE ASCENT TO THE MAIN THESIS
The most expeditious way of arriving at a comprehensive conception of
human life is to begin with the impression which we get of it as a
whole; ascertain what problems arise from this, and seek to make what
headway we can in solving them until we reach a stage where the
necessity of a particular assertion becomes apparent. From the outset,
however, the attention will be centred chiefly upon that which
differentiates human life from other forms of life existing within our
knowledge; it is from a consideration of this that we shall most readily
see the whole in its proper light.
1. MAN AS A BEING OF NATURE
No one doubts that human life forms the highest point of development
that comes within our experience; that it is in some way more than mere
animal life. But what it is that is characteristic in human life as
distinct from animal life, and how it is to be interpreted, is a matter
of dispute. From the earliest times there has been a great diversity of
opinion and conviction concerning this matter, and absolutely
contradictory views have been maintained. Some thinkers have believed it
possible to regard human life, in spite of its uniqueness, as
essentially the same as that of the animal, and to trace back all
difference to a difference in the quantity of the fundamental nature
which they all possess; these thinkers did not concern themselves with
presenting the higher as developed from the lower by a gradual growth.
Others, on the contrary, regarded human life as something essentially
new and in its very nature distinct--the beginning of another kind of
world--and denied to the uttermost a derivation from lower forms; these
held it to be impossible to avoid the recognition of a break between
animal and human life. According to which of these positions was
accepted, life obtained a fundamentally different prospect and a
fundamentally different task; activity necessarily had different aims
and sought different paths; the conflict around this problem affected
the whole sphere of existence.
As a result of the movements and experiences of the nineteenth century,
this conflict has entered upon a new stage. In earlier times the
decision had generally been made as a result of the immediate impression
of the civilised man who was conscious of his superiority; it did not
seem possible for him to lift himself far enough above his environment;
the life of his soul, through its distinctive spiritual character,
seemed to be as distinct from every impulse which nature exhibited as
the sky is distant from the earth. Science and art, morality and
religion were accepted as an original possession of man and as the power
which had dominated his life from the beginning. He appeared to be a
higher being; and to direct all thought and endeavour towards the
strengthening of the distinctively human was regarded as the chief
requirement of life.
The movements which have arisen in the Modern Age have led to a radical
change in our treatment of this question: this change is chiefly due to
science. Modern science breaks down the authority of the immediate
impression, and, in contrast with it, projects a new representation of
the world. Man is no longer looked upon as occupying a position of
lonely elevation, but is seen to be in the closest concatenation with
nature around him, and is regarded, finally, as a mere part of its
machinery. Many movements of thought tend toward this conclusion and
support one another. The physical relationship which exists between man
and the animals could not have been so clearly perceived, and traced
with such exactitude of detail by modern science had not the fixed
boundaries, which in our representation had hitherto divided the life of
the human soul from that of the animals, been abolished. The new view
was further supported by the results of a keener investigation into the
nature of psychical life, since in this investigation the traditional
conception was analysed into its individual constituents, and it was
sought to explain from their combinations even the highest spiritual
achievements. The result of this modification of ideas was that the
inner life of man was assimilated much more closely to nature than
before; the juxtaposition and the succession of occurrences gained in
significance; it was recognised that relations did not hold from the
beginning but are developed gradually. The forces and impulses which
were operative in this development seemed to have arisen from an actual
process of nature, without any co-operation of human caprice. Our
psychical life appeared to be nothing more than a continuation of
nature. The great divergence between the heights attained in experience,
and the theories that were formulated to account for them, caused no
misgivings because the idea of a gradual evolution during an indefinite
period of time was sufficient to bridge the widest gulf. At the same
time the conception of society allied itself with that of history and
lent its support to the general tendency. Every higher aspect of life
that was accepted formerly as a proof of a supernatural order now became
a witness to historico-social relationship and, with its new
interpretation, lost its old mysteriousness. All this was, of course,
only on the assumption that human life brings nothing essentially new
with it. Not the least doubt as to the validity of this assumption came
to those who entered upon this train of thought.
Thought was able to follow this course with the greater confidence
because it went hand in hand with a change in practical life. By reason
of the development of modern life, man's relations to the environment
have become increasingly significant to man. Modern industry and
physical science have led him from a preponderatingly contemplative
relation to his environment to an active one; infinite prospects have
been disclosed; the forces of nature have been pressed more and more
into the service of mankind. But even in the service which they render
man these forces have won a power over him, since with a determining
power they keep his activity and his thought bent upon themselves. The
material side of life has escaped from the mean estimation in which it
had previously been held, if not in the conduct of individuals, yet at
the height of spiritual culture: to the present age it has become the
indispensable basis of all development. The social movement, with its
summoning of the masses to complete participation in happiness and
culture, supports the tendency to estimate material goods more highly.
With the cessation of oppression and necessity, and with the increase of
material well-being, a general advance and an inner development of life
seem assured. The whole tendency which we have considered exhibits man
as solely and entirely a part of nature, even though nature may be
conceived of more broadly than it was formerly; and the life of the
society and of the individual as being determined by natural forces and
subject to natural laws. How, along with this tendency, the traditional
conception of the world has been completely transformed; how biology, in
the sense of natural science, has been taken as the leading point of
view for the explanation of life, it is unnecessary to follow further,
since our consideration of the naturalistic system of life has already
given us an insight into this matter.
2. THE GROWTH OF MAN BEYOND NATURE
But even after we had seen an older type of life disappear and a new one
with the power of youth rise up, gain mastery over souls, and transform
conditions, despite all its triumphs the new movement manifested
limitations--limitations which did not arouse the criticism of the
thinker, but with the compulsion of an actual power the opposition of
the developing life of mankind. That which we became aware of in this
connection will become even more clear to us, and impel us to seek for
new aims, if we now concentrate our attention upon the process of life
and follow it throughout its experiences.
There cannot be the least doubt that we belong to nature: no one can
fail to recognise that it penetrates deep into the life of the soul, and
to a marked extent impresses its own form upon that life: the boundary
therefore is not between man and nature, but within the soul of man
itself. But whether nature is able to claim the whole life of the soul,
or whether at some point there does not arise an insuperable opposition
to such a claim, is another question. Even the most zealous champion of
the claims of nature cannot deny that man achieves something
distinctive: we not only belong to nature, we also have knowledge of the
fact; and this knowledge is in itself sufficient to show that we are
more than nature. For in knowledge, be it in the first place however
meanly conceived, however much concerned with the simple representation
of external occurrences, there is a kind of life other than that which
is shown in the simultaneity and succession of events at the level of
nature. For it is a characteristic of knowledge that in it we hold the
single points present together and connect them into a chain; but how
could we do that without in some way rising above the mere succession
and surveying it from a transcendent point? In this survey we pass from
earlier to later, from later to earlier; and at the same time we are
able to hold the multiplicity together: there must be a unity of some
kind ruling within us; but the mechanism of nature can never produce
such a unity. A transcendence of nature therefore is already
accomplished in the process of thought, even when it only represents
nature, only displays it to our consciousness. Intellectual achievement,
however, is by no means exhausted in the representation of nature. The
development of a new scientific conception of nature sufficiently
demonstrates, as we saw reason to believe, that thought has far more
independence than such representation implies; that in arranging and
transforming phenomena it opposes itself to the environment. For the
scientific conception of nature is not offered to us immediately as
something complete; it has to be won from the naïve view with toil and
difficulty. In order to arrive at this scientific conception, thought
must have a position antecedent to the impressions, must become
conscious of itself, realise its own strength, and in its activity lead
from universal to universal. The work of thought is not simply
transitional: without its continuance that which has been gained would
be quickly lost. Mere existence gives to nature no present reality for
our thought and life. To follow the pathway to reality involves the
overthrow of manifold delusions; and this necessitates such a longing
for truth, and a power to gain truth, as only a thought, which
transcends the sense impression, can produce. Not only is transcendence
of nature demonstrated through the fact of the existence of thought with
such independence, thought also carries within its being unique demands,
measures the life of nature by their standard, and in that life
recognises limitations not simply on this side and that, but also in the
inner being of the whole. Thought cannot possibly be satisfied with the
state of things as they are presented; it desires to illuminate,
penetrate, and comprehend it; it asks "Whence?" and "Why?"--it insists
that events must have a meaning and be rational. And from this point of
view it feels the mere actuality of nature--which excites no opposition
within its own sphere--to be a painful limitation and constraint,
something dark and meaningless. To thought, a life which is swayed by
blind natural impulse must be inadequate, indeed intolerable. Similar
conflicts arise in other directions. Thought embraces a whole and
demands a whole; it cannot refrain from passing a judgment upon the
whole. If this treatment is applied by thought to nature, the
predominant concentration of life in the single individuals and their
juxtaposition will appear to be a serious defect; all the passionate
strivings of the individual beings cannot deceive us concerning the
inner emptiness of the whole. For in nature there is nothing that
experiences the whole of this movement as a whole; makes the experience
self-conscious and something of value in itself. In the movement of
nature everything individual is sacrificed; and there seems to be
nothing to which this sacrifice brings results which are experienced as
a good. The same holds good of a culture that resolves human social
relationship into a simple co-existence of individuals, regards them as
battling together in the struggle for existence, and believes all
progress of the whole to be dependent upon their ceaseless and pitiless
conflict. Even if such a conflict leads to further external results,
there is no spiritual product: the results are experienced by no one as
an inner gain. The indescribable meanness of this whole culture, swayed
as it is solely by the spirit of egoism; the slavish dependence to which
this culture condemns man; the rigour of the individualism that rules in
it, cannot possibly escape from the criticism of thought. Thought, in
transforming this condition of things into an experience--that is, in
making us conscious of it--at the same time makes it impossible for man
to accept it as final. Since it makes us more conscious of the
limitations of this state of life, thought demonstrates--and that
through this very consciousness of its limitations itself--that our
whole existence is not exhausted by that individualisation and
detachment, but that there is a tendency of some sort within us which
strives towards the unity of the whole.